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“It’s not about the bull, baby.” His smile taunted her. “It’s all about the cow...boy.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, hold tight to your hats as we kick off our bull riding event!”
Shannon donned her Kevlar vest then put on her face mask and riding glove. She rubbed resin on the leather as rodeo helpers loaded Dead End into the chute.
“Up first this afternoon is talented cowgirl Shannon Douglas.” The fans hooted and hollered and a few waved pink posters with Shannon’s name on them.
A group of cowboys nearby stared. Most of her competitors welcomed her in the male-dominated sport, but there were a few who felt threatened by her presence.
“Shannon Douglas from Stagecoach, Arizona, is about to battle Dead End, a bull from the Kindle Ranch in Las Cruces, New Mexico. This cowgirl’s gonna have her hands full!”
Before approaching the chute, Shannon closed her eyes and pictured herself riding the bull to the buzzer, and then she imagined her dismount—a solid landing before making a break for the rails. Her sponsor didn’t care if she won, but Shannon did. She never entered the chute without believing she’d make the buzzer.
Showtime. When she straddled Dead End, the bull balked and attempted to rear so she lifted off his back.
“Looks like Dead End wants nothing to do with Shannon,” the announcer said.
The JumboTron showed a close-up of her and the bull. When Dead End became feisty again, forcing her off a second time, a collective gasp rippled through the stands. C.J. grasped her shoulder and whispered, “Thought I’d act like a concerned boyfriend.”
“Back away, C.J. You’re not helping.” She’d ridden her share of uncooperative bulls before, but something felt off about Dead End, and she worried the ride wouldn’t go the way she wanted.
Third time’s a charm. She eased onto the bull and secured her grip, then nodded to the gate man. Dead End bolted into the arena.
The first kick was powerful and thrust Shannon forward, but she hung on. Then the bull spun, and the arena became one big blur of color before her eyes. The seconds ticked off inside her head...four...five...
Dead End switched directions so quickly that Shannon didn’t have time to adjust and she fell into the well—the inside of the spin. She hit the ground hard, but sprang to her feet and raced for the rails, trusting the bullfighters to intercept Dead End if he gave chase. Helping hands grasped her arms and lifted her to safety.
“There you have it folks, Dead End won that round against Shannon Douglas. Maybe next time, cowgirl.”
Back in the cowboy ready area, C.J. said, “I’m taking the lead today.” He swatted her backside with his hat and the fans cheered as their interaction was displayed on the JumboTron.
“Folks, all-around cowboy C. J. Rodriguez is up next. As you know, he’s traveling the circuit with Shannon.” The announcer whistled. “They’re a pair of regular bull-ridin’ lovebirds.”
The audience cheered and it was all Shannon could do to keep smiling when C.J. put his arm over her shoulder and preened for the camera.
Chapter Three
“Your sister’s worried about you. You’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.”
The last thing Johnny wanted to do was confess his whereabouts the previous night to his brother-in-law. The memories of his rendezvous with Shannon churned his stomach after spending most of today at the Triple D with her father. Talk about uncomfortable—he hadn’t even been able to look his boss in the eye when asked if he’d watched Shannon ride at the Gila Bend rodeo.
“’Bout time Dixie worried a little.” Johnny climbed the farmhouse steps and strolled to the opposite end of the porch where Gavin Tucker sat on the swing. Leaning a hip against the rail he said, “Now she knows what I went through all those years keeping track of her.”
“Must be tough being the eldest,” Gavin said.
“At least you took one of my siblings off my hands.” From an early age Johnny had felt a sense of responsibility for his siblings. He recalled a middle school psychologist once telling him that he should start acting like a brother instead of father. He’d thought the woman was nuts, but he’d never forgotten that conversation and at times wondered if his need to protect and guide others was rooted in a suppressed desire for his own father to show interest in him.
“You look tired.” Johnny guessed nightmares were robbing the former soldier of sleep. Dixie had told him that her husband had been diagnosed with PTSD after he’d served in Afghanistan, and a few mornings when Johnny had left the bunkhouse before dawn he’d found Gavin asleep on the porch swing.
“Did Dixie tell you Shannon Douglas’s father offered me the foreman’s job at the Triple D?”
“She did. Congratulations. When do you start?”
“Not until the end of the month. I was over there today helping Clive train a cutting horse.”
“Are you quitting the rodeo circuit?”
“I’m cutting back on events until I get a handle on running the Triple D.”
The squeak of the screen door interrupted the men and Dixie stepped onto the porch. She smiled at Johnny. “I thought I heard your voice.” She joined her husband on the swing, curling up against his side. “Did you see Shannon yesterday?”
He wished he could blame his serious lapse of judgment last night on Dixie’s insistence he check up on Shannon at the rodeo. But he was a big boy, and no one had forced him to follow the lady bull rider into her motel room.
“Shannon didn’t make it to eight on her bull but she’s fine.” Uncomfortable with the conversation he pushed away from the railing. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”
“Wait. The other day you never said whether or not Charlene was moving into the foreman’s cabin with you.”
He might as well get this over with. “Charlene and I broke up.”
Dixie gasped. “What happened? You two have been together forever.”
Gavin kissed the top of Dixie’s head. “Think I’ll grab a bite to eat.” He disappeared inside the house.
“You’re not leaving until you tell me what happened.” Dixie patted the empty spot next to her.
When had his baby sister become so bossy? He sat down. “This feels weird—you listening to my problems.” In the past, he played the role of Dear Abby.
“I’m sorry about Charlene.” Dixie hugged him.
Through the years Johnny had been the hugger, consoling his siblings when their grandparents had been busy with the farm or their mother had been out of town chasing the next love of her life. Johnny had grown to resent his mother for putting her own wants and needs before her children’s and when Aimee Cash had passed away the day before his eighteenth birthday, he hadn’t shed a tear. How could he cry for someone he’d barely spent any time with?
“Why did you two break up?” Dixie asked.
He repeated his standard line—because it sounded good. “Charlene and I have been growing apart for a while.”
“It’s my fault.”
“How’s that?”
“You were worried about me when I got pregnant last summer, then I miscarried and I was such a mess that you wouldn’t leave me alone for a minute.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dix. I ignored the writing on the wall.” And Shannon had been his wake-up call.
“What do you mean?”
“You put years into a relationship, then one day you look at the other person and wonder what you have in common.” And when there’s no zip, zap or zing left in the kisses, it’s time to say goodbye.
“How’s Charlene taking it?”
Pretty damn well. “She’ll be fine.”
“And you?”
Shannon’s face popped into Johnny’s mind. What would Dixie say if he told her that he had the hots for her best friend? “I’ll be too busy at the Triple D to mope.”
“Are you sure you want to move into the foreman’s cabin? It’s not that far of a drive between the farm and the ranch.”
“I’ll be back to visit, especially if Gavin’s cooking chili for supper.”
“Who’s going to run herd over the rest of our brothers?”
“It’s your turn to keep everyone in line, Dix.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“If any of them give you trouble let me know and I’ll bang a few heads together.”
Right then the bunkhouse door flew open and Porter, the youngest brother, stepped outside and ducked as a cereal box flew past his head. “I didn’t know you were going to ask her out!” he shouted.
“Looks like you’ll be knocking heads sooner rather than later,” Dixie said.
“Better see what Porter did this time.” Johnny skipped down the steps and cut across the yard to referee the latest fight between his caterwauling brothers.
* * *
“THE DOG FOOD is in a plastic bin beneath the kitchen sink.” Roger McGee dropped the key to the foreman’s cabin into Johnny’s hand. The end of August had arrived and with it a changing of the guards at the Triple D.
“I’ll make sure Hank gets fed twice a day.” Johnny felt bad for the old man as he watched the cowboy struggle to say goodbye to thirty years of his life. If dogs could talk, Hank would say he didn’t like his master’s departure any more than Roger did. The hound lay in the dirt next to the Ford pickup as if he intended to ride along to Florida.
“Sure you can’t take Hank to your sister’s?” Johnny asked.
“Animals ain’t allowed in the condo units.”
“If you ever move into your own place, I’d be happy to drive Hank to Florida.”
“That’s right nice of you.” Roger’s eyes glistened as he descended the porch steps. He stopped at Hank’s side and patted the dog’s head.
Johnny went into the cabin to retrieve the leash, giving the foreman and his dog some privacy. After a minute, he stepped outside and clipped the tether to Hank’s collar. The dog refused to budge.
“Best tie him up for a week or two after I’m gone. He might run off.”
“Will do.” Johnny would have to keep close tabs on Hank. A jaunt through the desert in the August heat might kill the twelve-year-old hound before he reached the highway.
Roger hopped into the truck and gunned the engine. The ranch hand and the boss had said their farewells earlier in the morning, so there would be no big send-off this afternoon.
“Be sure to check in with Clive during your trip.” Johnny leaned through the open passenger window and shook Roger’s hand a second time. “Take care of yourself.” He’d miss the geezer. Roger had taught him everything he knew about cattle and horses when he’d first hired on as a part-time wrangler for the ranch fifteen years ago.
The Ford pulled away and Johnny tightened his grip on the leash when Hank whined. After a quarter mile, a dust cloud obscured the truck from view. “Well, boy, it’s you and me now.”
Inside the cabin the dog went straight to his bed pillow in the kitchen corner, where he watched his new master through sad, droopy eyes. The pathetic stare prompted Johnny to fetch a Milk-Bone from the cookie jar Roger left behind, but the dog wanted nothing to do with the treat. “I’ll leave it right here, boy.” He set the bone on the floor. “In case you change your mind.”
Johnny stood in the middle of the cabin, facing the front door. The kitchen sat to his right, the family room to his left. Behind him was a short hallway with a door to the bathroom and one to the bedroom. The cabin had come furnished and included a washer and dryer, dishwasher, and a full set of cookware, dishes, utensils and linens. There was also a satellite dish and internet access. All he’d had to bring was his clothing, toiletries, laptop computer and his iPod.
After years of sharing a house with five brothers and a sister, the quietness of the cabin bothered Johnny, but he was certain he’d enjoy the solitude once he became accustomed to living alone. He might as well unpack his clothes. He made it as far as the hallway when the sound of horns honking penetrated the cabin walls.
The Cash welcome wagon had arrived.
After making sure Hank remained on his pillow, Johnny stepped onto the porch and shielded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun. A wall of dust moved along the horizon as the caravan of pickups drew closer.
His brothers parked helter-skelter in front of the cabin, then got out of their trucks. When Johnny saw them standing in a group, he was reminded again of his mother. All five Cash brothers sported various shades of her blond hair and brown eyes. Johnny and Dixie were the only siblings who shared the same father and they’d inherited Charlie Smith’s dark brown hair and blue eyes.
“Hey, Johnny,” Willie Nelson, who preferred to be called Will, spoke. “We brought food.”
“Did you bring a grill? ’Cause I don’t have one,” Johnny said.
“Got it covered.” Buck Owens walked to the back of his truck and lifted a Weber cooker from the bed. He set it by the porch. “Your housewarming gift.”
“Mighty thoughtful of you all.” Johnny recognized the dual purpose of the gift—to cook food and to use it as an excuse to drop by unexpectedly for a free meal. Now that Dixie was running her gift shop in Yuma, she rarely put supper on the table for the family. Johnny had done his best to grill a few dinners each week for the group, but now that he’d moved away from the farm, he suspected his brothers were worried they’d starve to death.
“Hey, Mack, what’s your housewarming gift for me?” Johnny teased.
Merle Haggard, or Mack, pulled out his guitar. “I’m going to christen this place with a lucky love song.” He winked. “Before you know it, you’ll have women busting down your door.”
Ever since Johnny’s brothers had learned about his breakup with Charlene, they’d been concerned he’d sink into a deep depression. Little did they know another woman had already replaced Charlene in his thoughts. He’d had no contact with Shannon since the morning after the rodeo in Gila Bend, but not an hour of the day passed by when she didn’t cross his mind.
“I bought you a case of your favorite beer.” Conway Twitty set the carton on the porch floor.
“I suppose Isi talked her boss into giving you a deal on that beer,” Johnny said.
“Who’s Isi?” Porter Wagoner glanced between the brothers.
Conway shot Johnny a dark look, then spoke to their youngest brother. “She’s just a friend.” Conway used to seek Johnny’s advice when he had a dilemma with girls but a while back he confessed that he’d found a new confidant—a waitress at the Border Town Bar & Grill.
“I haven’t had a chance to grocery shop. My fridge is empty,” Johnny said.
“We got all the fixin’s.” Will hauled two grocery sacks from the front seat of his truck. “Where should I put this stuff?”
“Inside. Don’t let Hank out.”
“Roger didn’t take Hank with him?” Mack sat on the steps with his guitar.
“No.”
Porter and Buck filled the belly of the cooker with charcoal, while Mack strummed his guitar and Conway sang off-key. Johnny went inside to help the second eldest Cash brother with the meal preparations. As much as he’d been hoping to spend the first evening alone in his new digs, he grudgingly admitted that it was nice to know he was missed.
“That dog looks like he’s ready to meet his maker in hound heaven.” Will placed the deli containers on the kitchen table.
“Be nice to Hank. He’s older than Roger.”
