Danielle Steel - The Ranch

“Well, that was a quick change,” he said, admiring her, standing as close to her as he dared, and aching to kiss her.

“That's the whole idea.” She took his cowboy hat off and put it on her head, and it disguised her even further.

“Good move,” he said, and he was glad she was being careful. “That was a knockout,” he said, referring to her singing.

“I've always thought that should be our anthem, instead of the ‘Star Spangled Banner.’ I really like it.”

“I like anything you sing,” he said, still looking a little awestruck. “You could sing ‘Smoky the Bear’ and you'd make me cry, Tanny.”

“That's good to hear,” she said, her eyes caressing him. Then he bought her a beer and they shared it. She stood with one foot up on the pen, drinking his beer, with his rodeo hat on, looking like a real cowgirl.

“Tanny, you knock my socks off,” he whispered, and she laughed at him.

“You do a pretty good job on mine too,” she teased, and they watched the rodeo together for a little while, and then she went back to the others so they wouldn't worry. “Ride safe. Tell the horse that if he hurts you, I'll come back and shoot him.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, as she put his hat back on him, it would have been the perfect moment to kiss her, but he was afraid to. If there were a photographer around, they'd be all over the papers. He also didn't know if Charlotte Collins was there that night. And the cowboys would have talked for sure. They both knew they were better off keeping their secret.

“I'll try and come back later. Otherwise, come visit,” she whispered before she left. He had promised that afternoon to come to her cabin again, they loved to sit and talk and neck in the moonlight. She had a date with him the next morning. She was going to take her bus into Moose, and he'd pick her up there in his truck, and they'd spend the day together. There were a million places he wanted to show her.

She wished him luck again, and went back to her seat, where Mary Stuart and Hartley had been waiting. They hadn't spotted her in the crowd from the moment she'd left the ring, but when she came back to them, they could see why. She had taken her shirt off and pulled her hair back.

“That was smart,” Mary Stuart praised her and asked where she'd been, although she had a pretty good idea before Tanya told them.

“At the bronc pens,” she said, sounding pure Texas, and Mary Stuart laughed at her.

“I remember when you sounded like that all the time. I used to love it.”

“I been in the big city too long,” she said, pulling out her drawl, and in spite of the change of costume, people around her were starting to point and whisper. Mary Stuart gave her her new dark blue hat to put on, and Tanya hid quietly beneath it, keeping her eyes down.

She watched most of the events with interest, and then Gordon came on. He was riding bareback tonight, which was even harder and more dangerous. Tanya hated all of it, and most of all the breathless feeling of watching him in midair being bounced around by a wild beast that could easily have killed him. Everything was going well until suddenly the horse literally flew into the air, and did a jackknife leap at the gate of the bullpen. He was willing to do almost anything to get rid of his rider, and did, he pounded Gordon against it, and when he eventually fell off, the horse dragged him fifty feet by one hand, but at last the pickup men got him. He was doubled over when he left the ring, and holding his arm. But at the last moment, he turned and waved, and she knew he had done it just for her, so she wouldn't worry. She wanted to run and find him and find out if he was all right, but she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself, so she waited a little while, and watched him from where she was sitting. He had climbed back on the bullpen again, but he seemed to be nursing the arm, and the announcer congratulated him on a real nice ride. He got the second highest score of the evening, but at what price glory.

“You think he's all right?” Tanya leaned over and asked Hartley.

“I think he is, probably. They'd have taken him away or called for the paramedics if he wasn't.” But it shocked all of them to see how many of the cowboys left the ring obviously injured. They limped out, they held their backs, dragged their legs, cradled their arms, their heads were banged, their guts were hurt, and they came back to do it again three days later. The announcer even congratulated one of them for coming back after he'd gotten a “real bad concussion ridin’ the bulls on Wednesday.” As far as Tanya was concerned, it wasn't brave, it was just plain stupid. But this was the world they lived in. Even the five year olds were out in the ring during the intermission chasing raffle tickets and tickets for free days at the county fair tied to the tails of calves and young steers, and Mary Stuart kept complaining to Hartley that they were going to get trampled. But this was how they lived in Wyoming. It was like the running of the bulls in Spain, it made sense to them. But even to Tanya, who had lived in Texas, it all looked dangerous and more than a little crazy.

“This macho shit is going to kill me,” she said to Hartley as they watched one young bull rider nearly get killed when the bull dropped him unexpectedly and then stomped on what must have been his kidneys. They called an ambulance for him, but he still crawled out of the ring, nearly on hands and knees, with some assistance. And the audience cheered him. “This is a lot worse than what I do,” Tanya said, and Hartley and Mary Stuart laughed. And a little while later, she went back to the bronc pens to check on Gordon.

“Are you okay?” she asked with worried eyes when she got there. She had given Mary Stuart back her hat, because she didn't want to get it dirty, or lose it if someone grabbed it from her. That happened to her sometimes. People snatched articles of clothing from her and ran off with them as souvenirs. It was really annoying, and always scared her a little. “How's your arm?” she asked him quickly, and he smiled at her concern. She could see that his hand was swollen, but he had put ice on it and claimed he didn't feel it.

“You're lying, you big fool. If I shook your hand right now, or held it, you'd probably hit me.”

“No, but I might cry a little bit,” he teased, and she laughed at him in spite of herself.

“You people are nuts,” she scolded him. “How's the guy who got stomped by the bull?”

“He's okay. He didn't want to go to the hospital. He's pretty tough. He'll be peeing blood for a week, but he's used to it.”

“If you keep doing this, I'm going to kill you,” she said fiercely. “It's bad for my nerves.”

“You're good for my nerves,” he said, moving closer to her, and she could smell his aftershave mixed with the smell of horses. He noticed a couple of people watching her then, and turned so he would block her from their line of vision. It was Saturday, and there were more people here tonight, and a lot of them were drinking. “I want you to be careful when you leave, Tan. You hear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and saluted. She wasn't worried. She liked to think she was invisible, or that she wouldn't be recognized if she didn't want to be and wouldn't make eye contact with them, but he knew better.

“People know you're here, Tan. Tell Hartley to get the cops to help you out. It's Saturday, and a lot of people are drunk out there.”

“I'll be fine,” she reassured him. “I'll see you later.” She touched his cheek then and disappeared, and he watched her for the rest of the rodeo, sitting in the bleachers. He didn't see her leave, because he was talking to some of the other men. They were talking about a cowboy who'd been disqualified from the saddle broncs, and offered a reride but refused it. The politics of cowboys.