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“The Cowboy Rebels are playing to a packed house and Carter—” Lucy looked both ways before pulling onto the road and heading back to the Saguaro Cactus Lounge “—said a couple of guys have reached their limit and he wants them gone before they pick a fight.”
“Carter should call the cops if his customers are giving him trouble.”
“He’d rather I haul the cowboys away than risk the sheriff’s deputy closing him down for the night.”
Tony hated the thought of Lucy alone on the road with drunken men.
She’s not your girl. You have no say in what she does.
Lucy turned into the lounge and parked next to the Pony Express van. Before they got out of his truck, he said, “Mind if I ride along with you tonight?” What the heck else did he have to do but go home and worry about Lucy’s safety?
“Okay.” Lucy smiled. “I doubt the passengers will give me any trouble with a border patrol agent riding shotgun.”
* * *
“YOU MISSED THE turnoff,” Tony said.
Shoot. Lucy had been thinking about Tony’s confession that he was to blame for Michael’s death. “Sorry.” She slowed the van, checked her mirrors and made a U-turn. She hadn’t believed she could feel any guiltier than she already did, but Tony’s admission twisted the screws tighter.
Tell him it isn’t his fault. Tell him it’s your fault.
Too late. The lot at Willie’s was jammed, so Lucy parked in front of the entrance—an oversize royal-blue door that sported a silhouette of a cowboy. The dance hall reminded Lucy of an airplane hangar—a windowless aluminum building with a rusty tin roof. Giant swamp coolers circulated damp air while the metal doors at both ends of the building had been rolled up, allowing the music to spill into the desert.
“Wait here,” Lucy said.
“Are you kidding? I want to see you in action.” Tony followed her into the bar.
Lucy winced at the loud music as she wove through the maze of sweaty bodies and worked her way up to the bar, where the owner poured drinks. Carter spotted her and nodded. The former Phoenix Cardinal linebacker had retired in Yuma and opened Willie’s five years ago. When Lucy reached him, he motioned to the guys sitting at a nearby table.
“Bobby Ray and Billy John,” Carter shouted above the noise. “Good luck.” He handed Lucy a set of keys.
Tony intercepted the pass and snatched the key ring.
“You hire a new driver?” Carter glanced between Lucy and Tony.
“Carter Hawkins…Tony Bravo,” Lucy said. They shook hands.
“I remember you,” Carter said. “You rode bulls with Lucy’s brother.”
“And you had a pretty good career with the Cardinals,” Tony said.
“I did.” Carter grinned. “Still ride bulls?”
“Every now and then. Tonight I’m riding along with Lucy.”
“Good.” Carter pointed to her customers. “Billy John is harmless but Bobby Ray’s a hothead.” One of the waitresses called Carter’s name and the owner walked off.
“I’ll handle these guys,” Tony said.
Tony’s take-charge attitude didn’t offend Lucy. He wouldn’t be a good border patrol agent if he wasn’t self-assured and confident. “Let’s go,” Tony said to the men.
The cowboys stared with stony expressions. Time to pour on the charm. “Evenin’, gentlemen.” Lucy smiled sweetly. “You’ve bought yourselves a ticket on the Pony Express.” The line sounded corny but most of her customers chuckled.
Casting evil glares at Carter, the men rose to their feet and stumbled toward the exit. Once they stepped outside, Lucy asked, “Where are you fellas from?”
“Yuma,” Bobby Ray said.
She unlocked the side door on the van. “You looking for a ride into town then?”
“Unless you’re offerin’ a different kind of ride tonight?” Bobby Ray leered at Lucy, and Billy John snickered.
Tony stepped forward, but Lucy blocked his path. She’d use Tony as backup only if necessary. “Sorry, but you won’t find that kind of ride in this van.”
“Aw, c’mon, sugar.”
When Bobby Ray made a move toward Lucy, she grabbed his forearm and spun, tossing him over her shoulder and onto the ground. Before the cowboy knew what had happened, Lucy had planted her boot heel against his windpipe. “Rule number one. Don’t mess with the driver. Got that, Bobby Ray?”
Tony whistled low between his teeth. “Nice job.”
Secretly pleased she’d impressed Tony, Lucy said, “If you gentlemen mind your manners, I’ll give you a lift into Yuma. If not, you sit in the parking lot until the sheriff arrives. What’ll it be?”
Bobby Ray grimaced. “Yuma.”
“Shut up and behave, Bobby.” Billy John helped his friend off the ground. “Sue Ann will have my head if I don’t come home tonight.”
“Either of you carrying a weapon?” Lucy asked.
“No, ma’am.” Both men raised their arms in the air.
“Lift your jeans up over your boots.” Satisfied neither cowboy carried a knife or a gun, Lucy said, “Get in.”
Tony closed the van door then hopped into the front passenger seat.
“Who are you?” Billy John asked Tony after Lucy started the engine.
“Tony Bravo. Border patrol agent.”
“Someone give me an address.” Lucy input the information into the GPS as Billy John recited it.
“How often do you end up at the wrong house?” Tony asked.
“Never. But Hector’s landed in a few strange places.”
“That was pretty impressive,” Tony said. “Where’d you learn to flip a guy onto his back?”
“I took a self-defense class in college.” She left out that she’d dated her instructor, Keith, for nine months.
“I’m glad you know how to defend yourself, but you should have a partner if you’re going to drive the van.”
“Quit harassing me. You’re worse than my parents.” Lucy had thought long and hard before making the decision to start up the Pony Express. She’d weighed the pros and cons, but in the end the only thing that had mattered was saving lives.
Halfway to Yuma, Bobby Ray crawled into the third seat and fell asleep. His quiet snores served as background music to Billy John’s conversation with Tony about border security.
Lucy followed the GPS map and ended up at the Desert Sands Apartments. “Which way?” she asked, turning into the entrance.
“Third building on the right.” Billy John unbuckled his belt when the van stopped. “How much do we owe you?”
“Nothing. The Pony Express is free, but if you’re feeling generous you can leave a tip to help pay for gas.” Lucy held out a mason jar and Billy John dropped a five-dollar bill in it then roused Bobby Ray.
Tony steadied the man as he stumbled from the van.
“Stay home the rest of the night, okay?” Lucy said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Billy John lugged his friend up the sidewalk to the apartment.
Lucy waited until the men went inside before pulling away. Tony remained quiet, but she sensed he had something to say. “You might as well spit it out.”
“I underestimated you.”
“How so?”
“You’re a rich, spoiled girl.”
“Yes, I am.” Or she had been until her father cut off her inheritance.
“I never imagined you caring about what happens to lowlifes.”
“Just because a cowboy drinks a little too much doesn’t mean he’s scum. Most of the guys who catch a lift home from the Pony Express are hardworking ranch hands or down-on-their-luck rodeo cowboys.”
Lucy tuned the radio to a country station and returned to the Saguaro Cactus Lounge. Tony remained quiet during the drive and she found his silence comforting, not nerve-racking. As soon as she pulled into the parking lot of the bar her phone rang. Shannon Douglas. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”
“No problem. Thanks for the ride-along, and watch yourself tonight.” Tony hopped out and shut the door before she had a chance to hand him his truck keys. He’d probably forgotten she had them from earlier in the evening.
“Hi, Shannon, what’s up?” Lucy’s blood pumped faster through her veins as she listened to the good news.
“Great. Thanks so much. I’ll arrive at the rodeo a couple of hours before my ride.” Lucy grabbed the pen and notepad she kept in the van and scribbled down information about the Ajo rodeo the middle of May. “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”
When Shannon lectured her on the importance of being in top physical shape, Lucy said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve found someone to help me train for the rodeo.” She crossed her fingers, hoping she hadn’t told a lie.
After disconnecting the call, she let out a whoop of joy. Shannon had persuaded Wrangler to allow Lucy to ride in three summer rodeos to raise money for the Pony Express. The two rodeos following Ajo were yet to be determined. Lucy left the van and waited for Tony to come out of the bar.
“Looking for these?” She jingled the keychain when he stepped outside. “I have a huge favor to ask, but I’m positive you’ll say no.” She handed over the keys.
“Then why ask?”
“I have no one else to turn to.”
“What do you need help with?”
“Teach me to ride bulls.”
His mouth sagged.
“Please, Tony. I’ve organized a fundraiser—”
“No.”
“Is that a no or a maybe no?”
“No means no, Lucy.”
“I realize this came out of left field, but—”
“You have no business on the back of a bull.” Good God, Tony thought. The woman was small-boned, five-feet-six or -seven inches tall at the most, and probably weighed less than one-ten, sopping wet.
“This is important, Tony.”
He’d worked for the border patrol long enough to tell the difference between people who were serious and sane and those who were serious and insane. Lucy was dead serious—whether she was sane or insane was anyone’s guess. “Why do you need to ride a bull?”
“I’m raising—” A rowdy group of cowboys leaving the bar interrupted her.
Tony took her by the arm and helped her into the front seat of his truck. He started the engine then flipped the air-conditioning on high, hoping the blast of cold air would mask the scent of Lucy’s honeysuckle perfume.
“Hear me out,” she said.
Did he have a choice?
“When I came up with the idea for the Pony Express I expected my father to object, but he didn’t.”
“Why not?” Tony sure in hell would have.
“My mother told him to back off, because she was worried I wouldn’t remain in Stagecoach.”
“You had plans to go somewhere else?”
“Right before I graduated, I received a job offer from a marketing firm in Phoenix, but because my mother was having a difficult time coping with Michael’s death I declined the job and moved back home.” Lucy waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, my father expected the Pony Express to fail, so he stayed out of my way as I got the business off the ground.”
“What does all this have to do with bull riding?”
“The federal grant I receive to run the Pony Express was reduced by half. When my father found out, he cut off access to my trust fund, which I’d been dipping into to keep the business afloat.”
Tony thought he might have done the same thing if it had been his daughter.
“If I don’t find a way to raise $20,000 this summer, the Pony Express will go bankrupt before the end of the year.”
“Besides gas and maintenance on the van, what other expenses do you have?” he asked.
She counted off on her fingers. “Hector’s salary and his—”
