The Bull Rider's Valentine. Cathy McDavid
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or what had happened to him.
Ronnie had tried telling herself the same thing would have happened regardless of how delicately she’d handled the breakup. Sometimes, she almost believed it. Mostly, she regretted her actions. Nate had done nothing wrong, was, in fact, a great boyfriend and had been deserving of far more from her. She’d been the one consumed by grief and guilt. The one who’d wanted out.
“Whoo-hoo!” Sam gave a loud hoot as she rounded the last barrel and galloped for the finish line.
Head stretched out and tail flying, the Comanche ran for all he was worth. Crossing the finish line, Sam slowed the horse as they passed through the gate, then brought him back around.
Ronnie didn’t have to wait for Nate’s announcement. Instinct, honed from years of competing, followed by years of teaching, told her Sam’s time was in the money.
“Sixteen-point-three-six seconds.” He showed her the phone. “Not bad for a pattern this size.”
“From what Sam has told me, that’s very close to Big John’s time pre-injury.”
“Meaning she can do as well on Comanche as Big John.”
Ronnie pushed off the arena fence. “If she wants. Which she doesn’t.”
“Put yourself in her shoes. What was it like when you competed on a horse that wasn’t yours? It can be intimidating.”
Before Ronnie could respond, Sam trotted over, Comanche’s sides continuing to heave from his exertion. With nimble ease, she jumped off, the reins loosely clutched between her fingers. “How’d we do?”
Nate told her.
She frowned. “Better than I thought.”
“Then why are you mad?”
“I’m not.”
Except, she was. If Ronnie were to guess, she’d say the horse’s more than decent performance hadn’t bolstered Sam’s argument that she needed Big John in order to qualify for Nationals.
Nate pocketed his phone. “You were a little slow changing leads on that last barrel.”
Ronnie had also noticed the lag but refrained from commenting. She and Sam regularly engaged in this same argument. Sam always blamed the horse and did again today.
“It’s not my fault. I have to cue him twice before he changes leads.”
“Maybe you need to practice more. The partnership between horse and rider doesn’t happen overnight. It can take months, years even, to perfect.”
Something else Ronnie had tried to tell Sam, without much success.
“You’re right.” The teenager flashed Nate an apologetic smile. “I can’t help getting impatient.”
What? Ronnie blinked. Had Sam really just agreed with Nate when all she ever did with Ronnie was fight? Increasingly so these last weeks as the competitive season drew nearer and nearer to an end.
“Will you stay the next two weeks and help me?” She grabbed Nate’s arm with her free hand. “Please. I know I can qualify with you coaching me.”
Coaching her? Wasn’t that Ronnie’s job?
She coughed and cleared her throat. “I think Nate’s on his way to Houston.”
“That can wait.” He sent her a look that probably wasn’t dismissive but felt that way nonetheless.
“Yes.” Sam’s face exploded in a huge smile. “I’m so happy.”
Not Ronnie. “We wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you,” she said dryly.
“No inconvenience. I’ll juggle my schedule.”
If only she could do the same and leave town for the next two weeks. Unfortunately, obligations to her family, her barrel racing business and her students kept her rooted in Mustang Valley for the foreseeable future.
A future that, temporarily at least, now included Nate Truett.
“Where’s the rodeo this weekend?” Nate asked. He led Breeze while Samantha—he supposed he should get used to calling her Sam—walked beside him. They’d been circling the grounds for the last fifteen minutes, letting the old mare stretch her legs a bit before returning her to the trailer.
“Kingman. The Annual Andy Devine Days. We need to be on the road no later than 6:00 a.m. Friday morning.”
That gave him the rest of today, plus Wednesday and Thursday, to find a place to park his trailer and earn some quick cash.
“I like Kingman. Those were the days...”
“Was that where you earned your first championship?” she asked.
“Hardly. But I did win my first buckle there. In steer wrestling.”
“Not bull riding?”
“If I recall correctly, I came in dead last.”
“No way!”
“It’s true.” He’d been all of eighteen and, just like Sam, brand new to professional rodeoing. “I lasted a whopping one-point-two seconds before T-Rex dumped me face-first into the dirt.”
“You remember the bull’s name?”
“He made an impression.”
The truth was, Nate had been scared witless when T-Rex executed an abrupt one-eighty and charged. It was without doubt the quickest he’d ever scrambled to his feet and scaled the fence. The small scar on his left shin was a constant reminder of just how close the bull’s hoof had come to slicing his leg open.
“We’ll probably take Ronnie’s truck and trailer to Kingman,” Sam said. “Is that okay with you? There’s enough room for all of us to bunk in the camper.”
“I’ll get a hotel room.” Not that he had much money for a hotel. Unless his luck changed.
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Sure that Ronnie wouldn’t bunk in the same camper with him even if her life depended on it.
He and Sam turned the corner of the horse barn, trading late October sunshine for chilly shade. Ronnie hadn’t come with them. She’d made some excuse about returning a phone call and hightailed it to the ranch office. From the look on Ronnie’s face when he’d accepted Sam’s invitation to stay, she needed some alone time to process this unexpected development.
Not nice of him, for sure. He really should have called ahead and given her fair warning. Only, deep down, a small part of him still resented her for rejecting his proposal, and for her brutal handling of their breakup—which must mean an equally small part of him still cared for her. Not that he’d admit as much, to her or anyone else.
At his truck, Sam held Breeze’s lead rope while Nate lowered the trailer’s rear gate. With very little prodding, the old brown mare meandered in and waited for Nate to secure her lead rope to the metal ring.
“Are there any cheap places in the area I can park my trailer? Preferably one that rents spaces by the day or week.”
“Why not stay at Ronnie’s?” Sam offered. “She has room. There’s just her now that Mel moved out. And since you two already know each other—”
“Room for what?”
Nate and Sam both turned at the sound of Ronnie’s voice. “Nothing,” he said, hoping Sam took the hint and kept quiet.
She didn’t. “Can Nate park his truck and trailer at your house?”
“Um...ah...”
“Don’t