Helen DePrima - The Bull Rider

He pulled out his cell phone. “Okay if I make a quick call home? My folks can watch some events live, but the satellite reception is iffy.”

“I remember—you let them know you and Luke are okay. Please, go ahead.”

He hit Send and waited, then said, “Hey, Shelby, did you guys...” He laughed. “Me too—I was ducking and weaving for all I was worth. That bull’s mama goes back to Bodacious—I think she passed along all his tricks.”

He listened for a moment, frowning. “How much do you expect?” More listening while he rubbed the bridge of his nose and jerked his hand away. “Just don’t let Dad...”

He smiled. “I know you will.” He glanced at Jo. “Yeah, she’s here—she’s getting a triple dose of bull riding this weekend. You guys take care. We’ll be home by Monday morning.”

“Everything all right?” Jo asked.

He sighed. “I guess. They’re expecting some snow, and that always worries me when we’re this far from home. My dad had a heart attack last spring during a blizzard—he was just forty-six.”

Tom still had trouble believing it had happened. Except for the dark time between their mother’s death and Shelby’s arrival, Jake had always been the rock they all looked to for shelter.

“There’d been a couple days of rain, and then the wind swung around out of the north,” he said. “The western slope of the Rockies got hit with three feet of wet snow right at the beginning of calving season. Dad was out gathering all the heifers into the home pasture where he could get feed to them. My stepmother was pitching down hay for the horses when Dad’s horse came in without him—luckily there was already enough snow on the ground she could track back to where he fell. She got him to the hospital in time, but the storm wiped out half our herd in one weekend, all bred heifers and new calves. At least we didn’t lose any horses—they sheltered in a big shed attached to the barn. Some folks had stock freeze to death right in the corral.”

“How terrifying for your stepmother, dealing with that all alone.”

He gave a wry chuckle. “You don’t know Shelby—not much she can’t handle. When my dad met her, she was hitchhiking because she told the guy who gave her a ride she’d rather walk than sleep with him. She jumped ship in the middle of nowhere with snow coming on. She says this won’t be much of a storm, just six inches or so.”

He’d been able to replace some of the dead cattle with last year’s winnings, but Cameron’s Pride was still drowning in red ink from the blizzard losses, plus Jake’s medical bills. After much soul-searching, Tom had concluded that lightening the financial pressure with his prize money would help his dad more than if he worked at the ranch full-time.

“You and Luke were on the road when it happened?” Jo said. “You must have been frantic to get home.”

He nodded. They’d watched Weather Channel coverage of the storm from inside an airport nearly two thousand miles away, unable to get a flight even as far as Albuquerque.

“When we finally got to Durango, we checked on Dad at the hospital and then headed out to the ranch. The ice and drifts were so bad we had to go in by snowmobile the last ten miles. And then we started looking for our cattle.”

Bitterness rose in his throat at the memory of finding the cows, most of them raised at Cameron’s Pride, dead with their calves lifeless inside them or frozen at their sides. They’d had to burn the carcasses, and the stench of scorched hair and roasting meat had hung in the valley for days.

“Is your dad doing okay now?”

He turned to her with a start; he’d been living so deeply in the past, he’d almost forgotten her presence.

“So the doctors say. You’d never know he almost died, but Shelby still rides pretty close herd on him.” Yet another reason to bless her presence in the family.

He yawned, almost cracking his jaws, and flushed. “Dang, I’m sorry,” he said a second time. “I guess my battery’s running low.”

A lot of unmarried riders partied after the event, blowing off adrenaline with booze and the ever-willing girls who swarmed around the cowboys. He didn’t care much for drinking—the loss of control scared him—and he’d never again settle for sweaty sheets and girls whose names and faces ran together in a blur. Usually he walked for a couple hours to step down from the high of riding; tonight talking with Jo about home had drained away the tension. Too bad Traci had never been interested in hearing about the ranch.

Jo smiled. “Sounds like a cue to call it a night. What’s the schedule tomorrow?”

“The event starts at one,” he said. “I’ll be downstairs for breakfast around nine if you’d like to join me.”

“Why don’t you stop by my room first? I can help with the concealer again.” She stood just as the door opened.

Luke stopped short. “Hey, I can come back later...”

“Jo’s just leaving,” Tom said. “I’ve been boring her with Cameron family history.”

“Far from it,” she said. “I could listen all night.”

“And he could yammer on about the family legends till you want to stuff a sock in his mouth,” Luke said. “Best take it in installments.”

“Thanks for listening,” Tom said, although she’d probably considered it just part of her work.

“Anytime,” she said with a smile, gathering her purse and the day sheet from the evening’s competition. “I’d love to hear more about your family and the ranch.”

For a moment, he pictured her at Cameron’s Pride and then banished the image. He was a job to Jo Dace, nothing more—they’d have no problem as long as he kept that in mind.

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