Cowboy Crazy

chapter 38



Lane dug his heels into the side of a black-speckled bull named Dalmatian and tensed to give the nod. Shifting his weight, he tightened the rope wrapped around his riding glove, then reached up and shoved his hat down hard. The arena was clear, the crowd hushed, the clowns and pickup men standing off to the side. If only he could clear his mind and quiet the thoughts whirling through his brain.

He stared down at the bull’s blunt horns, but all he could see was Sarah. That would be all right if he could see her naked, but the pictures that kept flashing through his mind were surprisingly tame. Her flushed embarrassment after he’d kissed her. Her serious, sedate dance with the horse when she didn’t know he was watching. Her face, bright with fury when she’d confronted him about Flash.

He worked his fingers deeper into the glove and tugged himself closer to the bull’s broad shoulders. He just didn’t feel right. Maybe if he rewrapped his hand. He unwound the rosined rope and carefully laced it around his hand, tight but not too tight, staring down at the process but still thinking about Flash.

What had happened to the stallion wasn’t Roy Price’s fault, but it had been a mistake to work the horse like he did. And though Lane managed to keep the animal comfortable, he couldn’t be ridden. His potential never would have paid off. Roy had gone out on a limb buying the horse, and sooner or later, that limb would have come crashing down.

But it seemed like the one good thing Sarah had held onto all her life was her unshakable belief in her stepfather. She probably had great memories of Flash too, since she’d ridden him successfully on the barrel racing circuit. If he told her what had been wrong with the horse, she’d be horrified to learn she’d put the animal through excruciating pain.

If hating Lane helped her, he’d let her do it. That way she’d keep believing in her father and in herself. He was doing the right thing.

It took him a half second to realize he’d nodded his head at the thought and the cowboy by the gate had taken it as a signal. The iron bars swung aside and Dalmatian leapt for the opening, rearing up so high he almost dumped Lane off the back.

Damn. He wasn’t ready on the rope. He hadn’t settled into his seat. Worst of all, he wasn’t ready mentally. He felt his legs sliding backward. The rope burned his palm as it slid through his grip, twisting away. For a long, suspended second he looked down from the top of his arc and saw the bull kicking up dust, the wide-eyed wonder of the cowboy at the gate watching him fly up and away, and the faces of the crowd, a blur of color and light, tracing his descent.

The arena fence rose to meet him, the metal bars speeding closer, closer—and then a shuddering clang reverberated through every bone in his body. Stars exploded inside his head and faded to a deep, black darkness and the last thing he knew was pain.

***

By the time she trudged up the wheelchair ramp to the house, Sarah was a mess. Her boots were dusty, her hair flecked with hay. She’d splashed her face over and over with cold water from the spigot in the barn, and though it had washed away the swelling from her tears, it had left her face ruddy and pink.

She needed to talk to Trevor and find out where Lane was so she could tell him she knew she’d misjudged him. Hell, she’d misjudged her whole life, and she was ready to start over. She’d start by apologizing to Lane.

Not that it would make much difference. She’d shown her worst side to him. He knew she was angry and stubborn and hopelessly deluded. He knew the image she’d presented to the world was a false front, like a grand facade on the street side of a rickety, tumbledown shack. She’d just as soon never face him again.

But she needed to bite the bullet and tell him he was right. She hadn’t been giving her true self a chance. If she could, she’d take the job he’d offered, but she could hardly work as a stable hand when she couldn’t bring herself to get on a horse. Her riding days were over. She’d proven that this morning.

It was a shame, because she’d come to another conclusion during her long, hay-scented crying jag. Lane had been right when he’d said Two Shot made her what she was today. The specter of her past had always urged her on like a trainer with a lunge whip, pushing her to try harder. If she could stay, she could somehow pay the town back, make amends. But with no job, there was no future for her in Two Shot.

Halfway up the wheelchair ramp to the house, she almost turned around. What if she went back to the barn and tried again? Maybe a different horse would help. But those painful memories and the heart-pounding panic that accompanied them weren’t something she could face again.

Trevor was just hanging up the phone when she stepped into the kitchen. She’d kicked her boots off on the porch, so he didn’t hear her stocking feet on the hardwood floor.

“Is he conscious?” he was asking.

Sarah stopped. His tone was hushed, as different from his usual bantering tone as it could be. Dread coiled in her stomach and she reached out and touched a hand to the counter to keep her balance.

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.” He turned and caught sight of Sarah. “I’ll send somebody right over.”

He clicked the phone shut and set it on the counter, then lowered his head and closed his eyes as if marshaling all his strength.

“Lane’s hurt,” he said. “Bucked into the fence.”

Sarah felt heat behind her eyes. “Is he okay?”

“Dunno.” Trevor’s face flushed and his lips whitened, as if he was holding back emotion. “It’s a head injury. They’re working on him, but he’s unconscious.”

She pictured him in an ambulance and felt her lungs squeeze shut. The thought brought back the pictures she’d been trying to avoid—a man killed by an animal. Roy in the driveway, Roy in the ambulance, his ruddy skin gray and lifeless.

No. Lane Carrigan was upright and vital and most of all, strong. He couldn’t end up that way. She couldn’t let the fate that had taken away Roy steal the only other man she’d ever—loved?

That couldn’t be right. Hell, she wasn’t even capable of love. Lane had given her every reason to love and trust him, and she’d still blamed him for her reception in Two Shot. Blamed him for what had happened to her family.

“Oh, God,” she said to Trevor. “When he left—I said terrible things to him. I need to get to him. I need to tell him I didn’t mean it.”

She hated herself even as she said the words. Trevor was losing his best friend, and all she could think of was herself. But she couldn’t stop replaying their parting in her head. She’d told Lane to hit the road and he’d walked away without defending himself, sparing her the pain of knowing the truth.

She needed to tell him she knew about Flash, and that she was sorry. Picturing him lying in the dirt of the arena, hurt and helpless, she knew there was one more truth she needed to face. One more puzzle piece in her future she needed to slide into place.

She loved Lane Carrigan. He couldn’t possibly love her back—not after how she’d behaved. Even a good man had his limits. But she needed to tell him.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Casper,” he said.

“Casper? Where was the rodeo?”

“Humboldt.”

“But…” She paused, stunned. “He said he was going away. Staying somewhere else.”

“Yeah, he said he was going to stay in the trailer, then leave for Amarillo tomorrow or the next day.”

So he’d had nowhere to go. He could have stayed at the ranch.

“Why?”

The minute she asked the question, she prayed Trevor didn’t know the answer. Hopefully Lane hadn’t told Trev she was a basket case, that she was delusional, that she blamed him for all her problems and he was afraid to be alone in the house with a crazy woman. Because that was the only reason he would have stayed in the cramped trailer instead of his own cozy Love Nest.

“Dunno.” Trevor shrugged and spun the chair away from the counter.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. One thing about rodeo cowboys—they were not given to introspection. It was a quality she’d often criticized, but right now she was grateful for it.

“Can you drive the van?” Trevor held up his hand. It was shaking like an aspen leaf in a high breeze.

“Sure.” She was shaking a little herself, but Trevor didn’t need to know that.

Lane did, though. Lane needed to know everything.

She was through with keeping secrets.