Special Delivery Baby. Sherri Shackelford
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Murdoch Gang again?” Will asked.
“Maybe, maybe not.” The sheriff shrugged. “Those boys robbed a church in broad daylight. I don’t see them keeping to the shadows.”
“You’re probably right.” With most of the town gathered for the rodeo, this was the perfect time for another strike. “Why don’t we—”
Raucous applause drowned out his words. Will and Daniel exchanged another glance before heading toward the corral. Since most of the townsfolk knew Daniel owned the stockyards, the crowds parted for them. People lined the entire circumference of the corral and crowded two and three deep in some places. Only a few feminine hats stood out against the mostly male crowd.
Upon reaching the fence, a distinctive paint horse carrying a redheaded rider galloped through an open gate. In a blur the pair sped around the corner and cut a diagonal across the center of the corral. Dirt clods kicked up by speeding hooves peppered the delighted audience. As Tomasina raced by, the men waved and shouted encouragement. With a flying lead change, the duo switched courses and curved across the opposite side, then galloped back toward the center once more.
The rider pulled up short. At the sudden stop the animal’s hooves cut trenches in the soft earth. The horse sidestepped left and back again. Horse and rider wheeled in a tight circle then changed directions just as quickly before stilling once more. The boisterous spectators shouted and whistled.
Tomasina Stone, better known as Texas Tom, waved to the crowd from her perch. Only then did Will notice the horse wore no saddle or bridle. Tomasina had controlled the racing animal with nothing but her legs and heels. The dawning realization sent a collective gasp erupting from the audience.
Clearly feeding off the attention, she bent one knee and braced it on the horse’s haunches then pushed off until she was standing. She wore her familiar leather-fringed chaps and blue chambray shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons on the flap pockets. Hatless in the afternoon sunlight, her flowing red curls glistened.
Save for the flicker of its tail, the horse remained motionless. The crowd grew hushed. Balancing on the paint’s back, Tomasina swooped her arms higher, urging the men into a cheer. Her plea was met with thunderous whoops and hollers.
Even Will had to admit she was magnificent. Her smile was infectious, her confidence alluring. Every man in the audience was admiring her, as well. An unexpected surge of jealousy caught him by surprise. The urge to protect her was nearly overwhelming. Not even Dora had inspired this confusing flood of emotions. Yet this slip of a girl he’d only met a handful of times had him captivated.
In an instant the mood changed. Her balance faltered. The horse lunged forward. Tomasina vaulted into the air. Strangled cries sounded from several onlookers. Will instinctively pitched forward. She landed in a crouch then popped upright and swept one arm across her stomach in a shallow bow. Her trick drew deafening applause. A vein throbbed in Will’s temple. The whole thing had been a stunt.
She whistled, and the horse veered straight at her. Though Will knew by now her act was all for show, the muscles in his shoulders tensed. At the last second Tomasina neatly sidestepped and caught the horse’s mane in both hands. Using the forward motion, she swung one leg over the animal’s haunches and resumed her seat once more.
Will’s knuckles whitened around the top rail of the corral fence, his heart thundering in his chest as he watched the scene unfolding before him. Tomasina spun her mount and trotted toward him. Her vivid green eyes pinned him in place.
Halting in front of his spot on the fence, the horse’s hooves kicked more dirt over his boots.
With her mischievous grin firmly in place, Tomasina winked at him. Apprehension snaked up his spine. His instincts were correct once again.
Texas Tom meant trouble.
She flourished one hand. “For my next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience.” She sidled her horse nearer Will’s vigil and extended her arm, indicating him with a hand encased in a fringed leather glove. “How about you, kind sir? Are you man enough to take on Texas Tom?”
Before Will could react to her unexpected challenge, a commotion at the far end of the corral distracted Tomasina. He followed her gaze. A saddled but riderless horse, almost identical to the one she rode, trotted toward them. Loose reins trailed in the dirt while empty stirrups flapped against the animal’s sides.
Tomasina’s stance instantly focused on the odd sight. Her fingers flexed on her horse’s mane. Her attention sharpened. Though the proud lines of her profile remained inflexible, Will sensed something was wrong. Her curls fluttered in the soft breeze. This wasn’t part of the show. Uncertain as well, the crowd remained hushed in anticipation.
Waiting.
Tomasina sat straighter. A crash sounded.
An enormous white bull galloped into the corral, thrashing and snorting. The nostrils on the riderless horse flared, and the animal lunged away from the steer’s path. Tomasina spun her mount and charged toward the bull.
His heart racing, Will dropped his cane and vaulted over the fence. Upon his landing, pain shot up his leg and rattled his teeth.
Daniel grabbed for his coat. “What are you doing, Will?”
“Don’t be a fool!” Quincy Davis called out.
The riderless horse bolted past, and Will caught the reins, yanking the animal to a halt. Using his good leg, he stuck one foot in the empty stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. The animal danced beneath him, frightened and confused. Grasping the pommel, he squeezed his legs, asserting his dominance over the skittish horse.
Quickly snagging the second rein and establishing control, he searched for Tomasina and the bull. Cornered at the far end of corral, the horned animal reared and snorted. Tomasina sidled her mount toward the fence. Nostrils flared and sharp hooves pawed the earth. The animal was set to charge, and she’d positioned herself directly in its path.
An icy chill pooled in the pit of his stomach.
Placing two fingers in his mouth, Will let out a sharp whistle. Distracted from its closest prey, the bull shook its enormous head. Will waved his hands above his head. The bull changed direction and charged toward him. Keeping his mount steady, Will held his position to the last second. Feinting left, he narrowly escaped the sharp horns.
A flash of red caught his attention. Blood darkened the animal’s fur. The bull had been injured, though not badly enough to slow it down. In preparation for the bronc-busting contest, a rope had been fastened around the bull’s middle along with a halter around the snout. If Will caught hold of that halter, he might be able to flip the bull. If Texas Tom was the marksman she claimed, he’d buy enough time for a shot. Will spun his mount and intercepted her.
She waved him toward the opposite end. “Help me herd him back to the gate.”
“No.” Will shook his head. “Too dangerous. That animal is hurt. He’s better off in the corral, where he can thrash about.” He followed the bull’s frantic bucking. “Let the cowboys clear out the spectators, then I’ll grab his head and flip him. You take the shot.”
There was no other way.
Her expression revealed an embarrassing level of skepticism. “Have you ever flipped a bull before?”
“No time to argue.” He’d seen the trick plenty of times, but he’d never actually performed the task. If the war had taught him one thing, it was that sometimes a man learned skills on the fly. “Grab your guns and prove you’re a sharpshooter.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she shouted. “I won’t let you.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
The more time they wasted, the more they risked. Wild with pain, the bull charged toward the corral fence.