B.J. Daniels - Shotgun Surrender

Ty picked it up from the dirt and slapped the dust off against his jeaned thigh. “Yep, that one could go down in the record book as one of the dumber things I’ve seen you do, Slim.” He handed her the hat, shaking his head at her.

As a kid, she’d been a beanpole, all elbows and knees, and she’d taken a lot of teasing about it. It had made her self-conscious. Even when she began to develop and actually had curves, she’d kept them hidden under her brothers’ too large hand-me-down western shirts.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, glaring at him as she shoved the hat down on her blond head, tucking the single long braid up under it as she did.

He shook his head as if she mystified him. “What possessed you to ride The Undertaker? Have you lost all sense?”

The truth was, maybe she had. She didn’t know what had gotten into her lately. Not that as a kid she hadn’t always tried to be one of the boys and ride animals she shouldn’t have. It came with being raised on an isolated ranch with four older brothers and their dumb friends.

That, and the fact that for most of her life, she’d just wanted to fit in, be one of the boys—not have them make fun of her, but treat her like one of their own.

All that had changed a few weeks ago when she’d first laid eyes on Boone Rasmussen. Suddenly, she didn’t want to blend in anymore. She didn’t want to be one of the boys. She felt things she’d only read about.

Now all she wanted was to be noticed by Boone Rasmussen.

And apparently there was no chance in hell of that ever happening.

“Here,” Ty said extending a hand to help her up.

She ignored it as she got to her feet on her own and tried not to groan as she did. She’d be sore tomorrow if she could move at all. That had been a fool thing to do, but not for the reason Ty thought. She’d only done it to get Boone’s attention. She couldn’t believe she’d been so desperate, she thought as she took off the protective vest. Ty took it as well and handed both vest and helmet to one of the cowboys along the fence.

She hated feeling desperate.

Being that desperate made her mad and disgusted with herself. But the problem was, even being raised with four older brothers, she knew nothing about men. She hadn’t dated much in high school, just a few dances or a movie. The boys she’d gone out with were like her, from God-fearing ranch families. None had been like Boone Rasmussen.

She realized that might be the problem. Boone was a man. And Boone had a reckless air about him that promised he was like no man she’d ever known.

“Nice ride,” one of the cowboys told her as she limped out of the corral.

“Don’t encourage her,” Ty said beside her.

There was a time she would have been busting with pride. She’d ridden The Undertaker. She’d stayed on the eight seconds for the horn.

But today wasn’t one of those days. The one cowboy she’d hoped to impress hadn’t even seen her ride.

“You don’t have to go telling my brothers about this,” she warned Ty.

He grunted. “I have better things to do than go running to your brothers with stories about you,” he said. “Anyway, the way you behave, it would be a full-time job.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed look, then surreptitiously glanced around for Boone Rasmussen, spotting him over by the bull corrals talking to the big burly cowboy who worked with him, Lamar something or other.

Boone didn’t even glance in her direction and obviously hadn’t seen her ride or cared. Suddenly, she felt close to tears and was spitting mad at herself.

“You sure you’re all right?” Ty asked as he reached to open her pickup door for her.

She could feel his gaze on her. “I told you I’m fine,” she snapped, fighting tears. What was wrong with her? She normally would rather swallow tacks than cry in front of him or one of her brothers.

“You’re sure you’re up to driving back to the ranch by yourself?” he asked, only making her feel worse.

She fought a swell of emotion as she climbed into the pickup seat and started to close the door.

Ty stopped her by covering her hand on the door handle with his. “Okay, Slim, that was one hell of a ride. You stayed on longer than any of those cowboys. And you rode The Undertaker. Feel better?”

She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. He thought she was mad at him because he’d chewed her out for riding today?

She half smiled at him, filled with a sudden stab of affection. Funny, but since Boone, she even felt differently about Ty.

Unlike Boone though, Ty had blue eyes like her own. There was no mystery about Ty. She’d known him her whole life. Boone on the other hand, had dark eyes, mysterious eyes, and everything about him felt…dangerous.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I could explain it,” she said.

Ty smiled ruefully and reached out to pluck a piece of straw from a stray strand of her blond hair. “Probably not, Slim, but maybe it’s time you grew up before you break your fool neck.” He let go of her hand and she slammed the pickup door. So much for the stab of affection she’d felt for him.

Grow up? Without looking at him, she started the truck and fought the urge to roll down her window and tell him what she thought. But when she glanced over, Ty had already walked away.

She sat for a moment in a stew of her own emotions. The worst part was, Ty was right. It was definitely time for her to grow up. Too bad she didn’t have the first clue how to do that.

She shifted the pickup into gear. Boone Rasmussen was still talking to Lamar by the chutes. He didn’t look up as she pulled away.

TY MENTALLY KICKED HIMSELF all the way to his truck. He’d only come by the rodeo grounds this morning to see if Clayton T. Brooks was around. The old bull rider hadn’t shown up for work.

Everyone said Ty was a fool for hiring him. Even part-time. But Clayton was a good worker and Ty knew Clayton needed the money. Sometimes he showed up late, but he always showed for work. Until today.

“Any of you seen Clayton today?” he called to the handful of men on the corral fence. Several of the cowboys were trying to get Lou to let them ride again. Couldn’t let some little gal like Dusty McCall show them up.

“Saw him at the bar last night,” one of them called back. “He was three sheets to the wind and going on about some bull.” The cowboy shook his head. “You know Clayton. Haven’t seen him since, though.” The rest shook their heads in agreement.

“Thanks.” Ty did know Clayton. For most of his life, Clayton had ridden bulls. Now that he couldn’t ride anymore, he “talked” bulls. Or talked “bull,” as some said.

Still, Ty was worried about him. He decided to swing by Clayton’s trailer on the opposite side of town before returning to the ranch.

Dusty McCall drove past as Ty climbed into his truck. He let out a sigh as he watched her leave. All he’d done was make her mad. But the fool girl could have gotten herself killed. What had been going on with her lately?

Not your business, Coltrane.

Didn’t he know it.

In spite of himself, he smiled at the memory of her riding that saddle bronc. She was something, he thought with a shake of his head. Unfortunately, she saw him at best as the cowboy next door. At worst, as another older brother, as if she needed another one.

He shook off that train of thought like a dog shaking off water and considered what might have happened to Clayton as he started his pickup and drove into town.

Antelope Flats was a small western town with little more than a café, motel, gas station and general store. The main business was coal or coal-bed methane gas. Those who worked either in the open-pit coal mine or for the gas companies lived twenty-plus miles away in Sheridan, Wyoming, where there was a movie theater, pizza parlors, clothing stores and real grocery stores.