The Bull Rider's Redemption. Heidi Hormel
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her... She was pretty sure he had.
“I am not putting this collar,” he said as he dived into the bags again, “or this leash on Mama. It’s not right. She’s a ranch dog.”
“A ranch dog? You live in a tiny apartment, in a tiny town, not on a ranch.”
“I’m not using these.” He got out of the truck, lifted down the dog and tied her to the door handle so she was in the shade. Then he strode toward the store. She followed him.
“Danny, the collar and leash are fine. She’s a girl.”
“She’s a ranch dog, and she doesn’t need rhinestones.” He didn’t slow down. She continued after him and back into the store.
“Lem,” Danny yelled. “What the hell are you selling? I want a real collar and leash.”
“You know the rules,” the tall, skinny and stooped Lem said. “No returns.”
“That’s BS. There are returns when you’re selling us crap.” Danny glared at the man.
Clover had already guessed she’d been taken advantage of. But she felt it only fair since she was guilty of hitting the dog. Somehow getting gouged made her feel better about that. Like she was paying her dues. “I like the leash and collar.” There was that, too.
“Of course you do. You’re from New York City,” Danny said, as if she’d come from Sodom or Gomorrah.
“They’re girlie. And I’ve spent more of life in Texas than New York.”
“They’re ridiculous.”
“Not man enough to walk a dog sporting a few rhinestones?” she jeered, smiling at the image of him. He was not going to return the darned leash and collar.
“I was man enough for you, darlin’.” His tone said exactly what that implied.
She blushed, wanting to smack him because she could see the speculation in Lem’s eyes. She did not want to be one of Danny Leigh’s women. “That was when you were a bull rider. What are you now? Mayor of a dying town, living off your fading fame.” She’d gone too far. She knew it even as the mean words came out. She opened her mouth to apologize or maybe to suck the words back in.
The dog woofed as she came waddling and limping in. She went over to Danny, stretched up and grabbed the leash and collar from his hands, which had fallen to his sides with her ugly words.
Danny seemed to awaken and tried to pull them back. “No,” he said. The dog growled and yanked the collar and leash to her, showing teeth.
“Hell’s bells, Mayor. That your dog?”
“Just a stray,” Danny said. “A bitch who doesn’t know what she wants, apparently.”
Clover sucked in her breath. Even in their worst teenage fights, Danny had never called her that.
A call to his sister Jessie had gotten Danny no help and no sympathy for mama dog. His sister had her own child to deal with, her horse therapy program and a husband adjusting to a new job and baby. Jessie had a lot of choice words. Next he tried Lavonda, the sister closest to his age. She said that Cat, her cat, had nixed the idea. Danny told her that he didn’t see how a property could function with just a cat to keep the stock in line. Lavonda reminded him who Cat was—an overweight Siamese mix who had a miniature donkey at her beck and call. When she asked him about Clover, he ignored the question.
Mama had made herself at home in a pile of not-so-clean clothes that had missed the hamper. So far she’d been quiet, probably tuckered out. He’d find her a new home soon because even if the original owners came forward, he wasn’t giving her up to them. It was obvious they didn’t care. His landlord would eventually hear what Danny had in his rooms, and the lease had been clear. No animals. One of those rules he’d figured wouldn’t matter because Danny had never planned to stay. It had just been a place to put his gear between competitions. After becoming mayor and retiring from bull riding, he hadn’t had time to find a better place. On the other hand, his tiny apartment was convenient to the diner and the rooms were easy for him to clean with his meager housekeeping skills. The rent was cheap, too, freeing up money for his business.
He’d bought properties, purchased more or less as favors to the owners who couldn’t keep up with the repairs. The buildings had been sliding toward neglect, so he’d fixed them up, rented them back to the owners at a reasonable price and come up with a grander scheme than just living off rental income and handyman work.
Danny had wanted to buy warehouse properties near to the depot, some of them already broken up into small apartments. He’d also been able to purchase a half dozen buildings on and just behind Miner’s Gulch that needed TLC. He’d transform some of them into good housing at a good price. With his ties to bull riding, sisters nearby and friends in Tucson, he’d entice new families to move to Angel Crossing. The town was literally dying, the population aging every day. His homes wouldn’t be fancy, but they’d be affordable for couples just starting out. He’d mix in a few more expensive options so that the town didn’t get segregated into the haves and have-nots, as he’d seen in many places. After all was said and done, he’d make a little money and the town would be better.
He looked at Mama sleeping peacefully. Maybe he should see about recruiting a vet.
Losing the auction had been a blow to his long-term strategy. He couldn’t understand what Clover, or rather her father, wanted to do with the property. He’d searched online for her and found out that she was working for her dad now. He needed to do more checking. He had a vague memory of someone, somewhere in town saying that a New York City company had bought other properties.
He couldn’t find anything on Van Camp Worldwide’s website about a plan for Arizona. “Why would she buy those old warehouses by the tracks?” he asked the sleeping dog. “They’ll have to tear them down. That’s what I wanted to do. It was the only way to build anything that would appeal to first-time home buyers. I might have been able to reuse bits and pieces of the interior. Or if I could have found a group of artists, I thought about studios and living spaces. Guess I won’t get to do either.”
Mama sighed heavily and wiggled her brows before burrowing further into the clothing.
“I’m going to Jim’s,” he told the dog. He deserved a beer for the day he’d had. A little uncomplicated loving and attention would have been nice, too. Not happening as long as he lived in Angel Crossing. The downside of a small town was that if he made a move on anyone and it didn’t work out, he’d have to see her day after day. It had definitely put a damper on his love life.
* * *
“DO YOU REALLY do karaoke on Tuesdays?” Danny asked. He couldn’t believe the wood-paneled, domestic-beer-serving tavern ran anything that appealed to someone under the age of 70. He’d seen the sign before but hadn’t wanted to ask.
“Country-western only,” said Anita, the owner, who’d gotten the place from a former husband.
“Anyone any good?”
“Nah, but that don’t stop them.” She stared hard at Danny before going on. “Hear your high school sweetheart’s in Angel Crossing.”
The gossip nearly had it right. He didn’t even wonder about the speed of the stories that flew around town. “She and I dated over a summer when I was with the junior rodeo.”
“Makes sense. Couldn’t imagine how someone like her went to your high school. She was the rodeo queen or something?”
“Miss Steer Princess,” he corrected automatically.
“Huh,” Anita said before strolling off.
Danny wondered exactly what of that conversation would be shared. By the time he heard about him and Clover