four

The good thing about her height, Rayna had no trouble getting out of Clay’s way-too-high four-wheel drive.

“I was coming to help.”

“I managed.”

They began the long trek across miles of asphalt to the admission gate.

He slowed his swagger to match her stride. “Have you always lived in Texas?”

“Born and raised.”

“How can you live here your whole life and never go to a rodeo?”

“Daddy always said they were silly, but he used to take me to a dude ranch as a kid.” Until I had an asthma attack there.

“But you’re an adult now. You’ve lived on your own awhile.”

“I guess they never interested me.” Might as well tell him his livelihood bores me brainless. “Sorry.”

The gulf between them stretched wider.

Big Tex didn’t say anything as they entered the gate, and Rayna gazed up at the huge statue, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Why isn’t he talking tonight?”

“He only talks on the hour. We missed it.” Clay turned away from the stockyards, toward the neon lights and thumping music. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Symphony.”

“Are you sure you were born in Texas?”

She laughed. “Daddy wanted us to be cultured. He took us to a lot of art galleries, symphonies, museums, and plays.”

“Not the fair or Six Flags?”

“A few times when we were little.”

“Do you like roller coasters?”

“I love them.”

“There’s that risk taker.”

For the next hour, Rayna screamed, laughed, and lost her stomach. After the roller coaster, the Tornado shot them high in the sky and twirled until she thought she’d lose her lunch. The Tilt-A-Whirl flung her soundly against Clay’s chest, where he held her so tight, she could feel his heartbeat.

The ride stopped. Regretful and dizzy, she pushed away from him and clambered out of the cozy cocoon.

He steadied her. “I hate to break up the party, but the rodeo starts soon.”

“That’s okay.” Rayna clutched her stomach. “I’ve had enough. But it was so much fun. I haven’t done that in years.”

“Maybe we could go to Six Flags sometime, too. You okay?”

“Standing.” She wobbled. “Barely, that is.”

He laughed. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“Is there anything without grease?”

“ ’Fraid not.” He surveyed the line of booths. “Let’s see. You like chicken, don’t you?”

“Grilled.”

“It’s not exactly grilled, but I bet you’ll love the chicken on a stick.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Clay took her hand.

Warmth spread over her as they maneuvered through the press of the crowd. Numerous concession stands lined the area with the heavy essence of deep-fried batter.

He pointed to a bench. “Wait over there. No sense in you standing in line, too.”

Couldn’t she trail behind him and keep holding his hand? With a nod, she took a seat. Rayna tried to people-watch but couldn’t keep her eyes off Clay. Every time he looked as if he might turn in her direction, her gaze darted away. Needing a distraction, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Five texts from Gabby: Where r u?

She punched in Food Court and looked up as the vendor handed Clay their food. Rayna pretended extreme interest in the passing crowd.

“Here you go.” He offered a grease-splotched, white-paper-wrapped item and a large lemonade.

She stifled a wince.

A grin twitched Clay’s lips. “Try it. If you don’t like it, you can munch on unbuttered popcorn or something, or I’ll find a salad for you to graze on when we head home. But just try it.”

Rayna unrolled the paper to find greasy fried coating with a shish kebab stuck through it. She started to pull the breading away, but he grabbed her hand.

“One bite.”

Closing her eyes, she sank her teeth into the deep-fried chicken, onion, and the unexpected tang of dill pickle bathed in grease. “I can feel my arteries clogging, but it’s so worth it.”

“Good, huh? My favorite. I usually buy several, take them home and freeze them.”

Gabby and Adam rounded a concession stand booth, her hand firmly engulfed in his. Her eyes lit up. “Hey, y’all made it.”

“We’ve been here awhile.” Clay tipped his hat. “Riding rides.”

“We toured all the stockyards.” Adam pulled Gabby to his side as if he thought Clay might try to steal her away.

Rayna cleared her throat. “I’m here for research.”

“Researching the roller coasters?” Clay winked.

“That was your idea.”

“Hey Adam, when we get to the rodeo, can we talk?” Clay asked.

Adam swallowed. “Sure.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby near the main entrance.”

“Let’s get something to eat before we go.” Gabby tugged Adam toward the concession stands.

“See you there.” Rayna waved. What did Clay want to talk to Adam about?

Clay rolled their trash into a wad and sank it in the garbage can like a pro basketball player. “Hey, wanna ride a bull?”

The hair along the back of her neck stood on end. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” He motioned, and she followed his gaze. “A mechanical bull.”

The rawhide-draped dummy moved slowly then spun, and the little boy astride tumbled off, giggling all the way to the cushioned mat. Then the bull ducked its head and prodded the child with a fake horn.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll go first.”

Clay paid for both rides and mounted the fake bull.

“Hey, that’s Clay Warren!” a heavyset woman shouted.

Soon a massive crowd circled the area.

Again, the bull started moving slowly but picked up speed in seconds. Rocking, spinning, and bucking, it never came anywhere near throwing Clay. To applause, he dismounted with ease and returned to her side.

“Okay, your turn.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Where’s that risk taker with barbecue sauce on her chin? Go on.” He nudged her toward the dummy and the crowd clapped louder.

Rayna climbed aboard. The attendee showed her where to hold and insisted she keep one hand in the air. As soon as the mechanical ride began, she grabbed on with both hands. Despite her good grip, one jerky whirl later, she landed in a heap on the mat.

Dizzy and stomach twisting, she laughed along with the crowd as Clay applauded and whistled. The bull concentrated on butting her backside until she managed to scramble out of its range.

“You sure were a good sport.”

“It looked easy. Especially with you up there, like you could stay on forever.”

“I’ve had a little practice.”

She and Clay stayed to watch a few more hapless souls meet the same fate as Rayna then headed toward the truck.

The seventy-two-foot cowboy waved as they exited.

“See you next year, Big Tex.” Clay tipped his hat.

❧

Cowtown Coliseum’s lobby bustled with folks. Concession lines snaked through the corral there.

Clay took off his hat and clutched it against his thudding heart. Win over the brother, win over the girl? Tension emanated from Adam.

Gabby and Rayna had gone to the restroom while a bull waited for Clay. Part of him wished he could sit in the stands with her and watch instead. Even though he’d spent the afternoon with her, he longed for more.

“What did you want to talk about?” Adam’s tone was all business.

“Listen, if we’re gonna work together, we need to call a truce. Seems you and me, we got off on the wrong boot.”

“A novel way to put it.”

“I’m sorry for liking your sister, but Rayna and I aren’t seeing each other.”

“You just ride roller coasters together?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m interested in her. I admit it.” Clay jammed his hat back on. “But she’s not. So are we okay?”

“As long as you don’t mess with my sister.”

“I’m not the type of guy who messes with women. I’m not looking for a bed partner.” Clay grinned. “Not until after the wedding anyway, and I want a lifetime partner. I respect women and my God who created them. Look, are you a Christian?”

Adam’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

“We’re both trying to find the girl of our dreams who loves Jesus. Can we get past this tension?”

“I’m not tense.” Adam frowned, stiff as a two-by-eight.

“I made a bad first impression, and now you think I’m after everything female. Gabby is a lovely girl, but I’m not interested in her. Even if I were, she only has eyes for you. Look at her.” Clay motioned to the two returning women. “Who’s she staring at?”

“Me.” A huge smile stole over Adam’s face.

“If Rayna comes around to my way of thinking about us, I vow to do my best not to hurt her.” Clay offered his hand. “Either way, can we be friends?”

❧

Rayna relaxed as the two men shook hands. Adam’s rock-hard features softened as she and Gabby neared.

“They look like they’re getting along better. You’ll sit with us, won’t you?” Gabby sounded sincere.

Third wheel. No, thank you.

Adam reached for Gabby’s hand. “Clay wants to show Rayna a good place to take pictures. We’d better find seats.”

“See you Monday.” Thankful for the rescue, Rayna hurried to keep up with Clay’s swagger.

“What were you and Adam talking about?”

“We made peace.” Clay threaded his fingers through hers and led her toward the arena. “I assured him I’m not some wolf out to conquer every woman I see.”

As they stepped inside the arena, the stench of manure hit her full force. However, the music wasn’t quite as annoying. Maybe it was the company. Corrals lined both ends of the arena. Clay led her down a narrow path with a wall on her left and the iron fence surrounding the arena on her right. An enormous tractor sat in the middle of the freshly plowed dirt.

Clay turned and climbed a few steps into the stands. “My friends have box seats over here.” Folding chairs lined the boxes with walls around three sides. Behind the boxes, stationary metal chairs with folding seats lined the stands.

A pretty blond waved from a box. A man exemplifying cowboy stood by her side—long camel duster over chaps and pearl-studded shirt, complete with boots and the mandatory hat.

“This is my newly hired art director for the ad campaign.” Clay raked dark curls away from his face and jammed his hat on. “Rayna, meet my best friend in the whole world, Mel Gentry, and his wife, Lacie.”

She looked like a country-and-western star, complete with big hair and rhinestone-dripping denim. Yet the look suited her petite frame. When Rayna offered her hand, Lacie greeted her with a warm embrace instead. Her husband followed suit with a brotherly bear hug.

“Almost time to start. Y’all better git.” Lacie kissed her husband then wagged a red fingernail in his face. “Now, you be careful.”

“Lacie, you watch out for her.” Clay’s eyes sparkled. “I’m trusting you to keep the cowboys at bay. Rayna’s here to work.”

As if any other cowboy’s appeal could come anywhere near Clay’s.

Rayna cleared her throat. “I brought my camera. Thought I might get a few shots.”

He pointed to the maze of corrals lining the left end of the arena. “That’s where most of the action is.” He finally let go of her hand and tipped his hat. “See you later.”

Her heart continued to rattle in her chest as he loped away.

“Tell me about yourself.” Lacie sat and patted the seat beside her. “What does an art director do?”

Rayna settled on the unyielding aluminum. “I handle the graphics and layouts for print ads, supervise video and photo shoots, and snap a few pictures myself. How about you?”

“During the week, Mel and I work the ranch with Clay. Weekends, we do this.”

“What do you do at the ranch?”

“Mel works the cattle. I teach kids to ride.” A wistful smile lit Lacie’s blue eyes.

“Do you and Mel have children?”

The smile tilted downward. “I’ve always put it off—afraid something might happen to Mel, and I’d end up alone—with a baby to raise.”

“Is he ill?”

“No. That man’s as strong as a Clydesdale.”

“Then what could happen?” Rayna figured they were only in their mid to late twenties.

The music stopped.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Stockyard’s Championship Rodeo,” the announcer’s voice boomed.

Rayna jumped.

The tractor roared to life then lumbered to the end of the arena where Clay and Mel had disappeared in a mass of Stetson-clad heads. A gate opened and the tractor exited.

“God Bless the USA” began playing over the speakers, and a girl dressed in blue sequins holding an American flag rode into the arena on a white horse. Slowly, she rounded the arena until the song built to a climax, and the horse ran faster and faster. By the time the horse and rider exited, Rayna was misty-eyed. Her vision blurred even more as the announcer prayed.

He introduced a dark-haired cowgirl who walked to the middle of the arena and sang “The Star Spangled Banner.”

As the closing notes faded away and the singer exited, the announcer gave a short history of Cowtown Coliseum and introduced three clowns. Loud, thumping music began playing. A rock song at a rodeo?

“For our first event of the evening: bull riding.”

“My least favorite event.” Lacie clenched her teeth and pointed to their left. “Those are the bucking chutes.”

Something slammed against metal. Rayna jumped. Bulls rammed into tiny pens. Cowboys clustered around one chute as a rider stood on the fence, hovering over the bull. Rayna shivered.

“Those are the roping chutes.” Lacie pointed to their right where calves waited in corrals.

“What do they do with the calves?”

“Calf roping—my second least favorite event.” Lacie sighed. “The guys ride horses. When they turn the calves loose, the guys rope them. Then they throw them down and tie three of their legs together.”

Rayna winced. “Do Clay and Mel do that?”

Blond waves danced with an emphatic shake of Lacie’s head. “They used to, but I complained about the inhumanity of it until they quit.”

“Good. Doesn’t sound like something I’ll enjoy watching.”

“Mel and Clay are in the second round. Let’s go get something to wet our whistles, and I’ll introduce you around.”

Going against the flow of traffic, they picked their way through the crowd then maneuvered to the short line at the concession booth. A group of women gathered to one side.

“None of the girls like the calf roping. We usually hang out in the lobby till it’s over. I’ll introduce you, and you can visit while I get our drinks. What do you want?”

“Bottled water.”

“You sure? The sweet tea’s really good.”

“Maybe next time.” What was she saying? There wouldn’t be a next time. Surely one rodeo would give her all the experience she needed for the campaign.

Lacie stopped at the fringe of the gathering of women. “Girls, this is Rayna. Make her feel welcome.”

“Clay’s girl?” A tall woman raised one brow.

Rayna didn’t want to admit how much she liked the sound of it.

“I’ll leave you to tackle that one.” Lacie turned away.

“No. I’m an advertising executive, hired by Mr. Warren’s publicist. I’m here to work.”

Raising her camera for all to see, Rayna caught the glare of pure dislike from a raven-haired woman. Pouty lips curled into a forced smile like a mask slipping into place. The woman sashayed over with an exaggerated twist of her hips and extended her hand. “I’m Natalie.” Her fuchsia nails dug into Rayna’s palm. “This is Christy, Gloria. . .”

As the list went on, Rayna pulled her hand away. Fire swept through her veins. She knew exactly what Natalie’s problem was.

“Ready?” Lacie handed Rayna her water. “Sounds like the first round of bulls and calf roping’s over.”

“Nice meeting y’all.” Rayna turned toward her new friend. Numerous “see you laters” followed but none offered by Natalie.

Again, they went against the flow of traffic back to their box seats. “Clay will be riding soon, and this’ll be a great spot for pictures.”

“What’s with Natalie?”

“She’s after Clay.” Lacie smirked.

“I thought it was something like that.” She swallowed hard. “Is he interested?”

“No way. She’s tried to sink her talons into him for years.” Lacie held both hands up like claws. “Her folks live next door to his. She’s been after him since high school, probably even before that.”

“Why hasn’t he taken the bait?”

“First of all, she’s not a Christian and has no interest in becoming one. Secondly, she’s rather promiscuous.”

A gate at the side of the arena opened and numerous children ran to the center, where the three clowns joined them. “What’s going on?”

Lacie giggled. “Now this is my favorite. The calf scramble. They tie a ribbon to its tail and turn it loose. The kids have to try to get the ribbon.”

A chute opened to their right and a calf ran into the arena. The mass of kids chased after it. The calf made loops and spins, staying out of range. Just as it appeared the scramble might last all night, one boy made his move and held up the ribbon. The exit gate at the left of the arena opened, and the calf escaped.

“Looks like we’ve got a winner. You can get your prize in the lobby.”

The children cleared the arena.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, and now for a real treat—team roping.”

“Oh great.” Lacie slapped her knee.

To their right, cows with horns waited in gated corrals. “Do Clay and Mel do this?”

“I’ve tried to dissuade them, but they insist it doesn’t hurt the steers.”

Cowboys, including Clay and Mel, lined up to the left of the chutes.

“They don’t throw those things down, do they?”

“No. Clay’s the header and Mel’s the heeler.”

“The what?”

“Clay ropes the horns and Mel ropes the hind feet.” Patience resonated in Lacie’s tone.

“Then what?”

“They stretch the poor critter out between them until it can’t go anywhere. Trust me. It’s better than roping a calf and wrestling it to the ground.”

Rayna cringed. “Is there anything happening tonight that I might want to watch?”

“I like the barrel racing. The broncs are okay. They don’t make me too nervous, but I hate the bulls.” Lacie trembled.

Rayna stiffened.

Though she felt sorry for the steers, the precision with which the two cowboys lassoed horns and heels fascinated her. Dust flew as hoofbeats narrowed in on the hapless creatures.

“How do they decide who wins?”

“Each team gets five- and ten-second penalties if they only get one heel or break the barrier and stuff like that. Whoever gets the fastest time wins.”

“What’s the barrier?”

“It’s complicated, but it’s sort of like a head start for the steer. If they cross the laser line too soon, they get penalized.” Lacie let out a whoop. “Here’s Mel and Clay.”

Rayna raised her camera, snapped numerous shots, and instinctively knew several were perfect. Though she concentrated mainly on Clay, since it was a team event, she took some of Mel as well.

“Clay Warren and Mel Gentry handily win the com-petition,” the announcer boomed. “These two rough riders set the bar high.”

Rayna and Lacie jumped to their feet to applaud. What was she doing? Clapping because two men picked on a cow?

Throughout the evening, the barrel clown joked back and forth with the announcer, lightening some intense moments. Loud music—everything from country to rock—played during each event. Between events the sparkling girl on the white horse rode around the arena with various flags bearing logos of the rodeo’s sponsors.

For the sheep scramble, kids once again invaded the arena. A gate from the roping chutes opened and the sheep ran straight to the exit gate on the other end, stood, and waited for it to open. A boy easily grabbed the ribbon from the woolly back.

“That was one cooperative sheep,” the announcer chuckled. “Next up, barrel racing.”

Rayna enjoyed the event, even when Natalie, decked out in hot pink and sequins, raced her horse around the arena. She did well but didn’t win. A few minutes later, Rayna spotted her. With her hands balled into fists, she stomped toward the lobby.

Rayna stifled a grin.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, hold on to your hats. It’s time for bareback bronc riding. First up, two-time CBR World Champ, Claaaaay Warrrrrrren.”

The crowd erupted in whistles and cheers.

A gate flew open and a horse careened into the arena bucking and twisting. On its back, Clay hung on for dear life.

“What’s it doing?” Rayna forced herself to aim the camera.

“Trying to buck him off.”

“But why?”

“They’re bred to buck.”

“But what if he falls?” The horse jolted Clay, and Rayna wanted to hide her eyes.

“That’s the point. To stay on.”

“Hold on, Clay!” she yelled. “Use both hands.”

The buzzer sounded as Lacie giggled.

“What?”

Lacie tried to stifle a smile. “It’s against the rules to hang on with both hands.”

Clay leaped from the back of the horse and sauntered out of the arena unfazed.

“That was a really good ride.” Lacie put her thumb and finger between her lips and delivered an earsplitting whistle worthy of any man.

“A fine ride and a fine score of eighty-six by Claaaayyy Warrennnnn.”

Several horses managed to buck other riders off before the buzzer sounded. However, each walked away. Even when they fell, her heart didn’t pound the way it had when her cowboy was in jeopardy.

My cowboy?

“How do they decide who wins?”

“They have to stay on for eight seconds, without flopping around. They get deductions if they touch the bronc with their free hand, and added points the more the bronc bucks and twists. Things like that. Right now Clay’s still in the lead.” Lacie pointed to the chute. “Oh, here’s Mel.”

Though nothing like during Clay’s ride, Rayna’s concern intensified until Mel’s eight seconds ended. As he dismounted, Lacie jumped to her feet to cheer her husband on.

Rayna followed suit. “Was that good?”

Lacie pointed to the scoreboard. “He beat Clay’s score.”

“Does that bother them? I mean, when they beat each other?”

“No, they’re just happy for each other. Okay, it’s bull-riding time. Cross all your fingers and toes.”

Bulls crammed in chutes, butting and hurling themselves into the gates. Clay planned to ride one of those things? Was he insane?

“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the final event of the evening. It’s time to separate the men from the boys. Bulllll ridddinnng.” The announcer’s voice echoed through the coliseum. “And first up, once again, two-time CBR World Champ, Clayyyyy Warrrrennnnn.”

Rayna got a glimpse of Clay hovering above a bull in one of the chutes. She closed her eyes.

“Now, the rules are a lot like the broncs.” Lacie leaned forward. “The more the bull jumps, spins, and bucks, the more points each rider gets. They get points for style, kinda like if they can stay in rhythm with the bull and not flop around. Again, their free hand can’t touch the bull, and they have to stay on for eight seconds.”

Lacie pointed across the arena. “That clown over there—he’s a bullfighter. He’ll help the cowboy get out of the arena in one piece. Sometimes, they cheer the bull on so the rider gets more points. And over there, the barrel clown distracts the bull. He can hide in his barrel, if needed, until the pick-up man”—she pointed to a cowboy on horseback—“helps the bull rider to safety or gets the bull out of the arena. They’re the heroes of the rodeo.”

Clay burst forth from the gate astride a massive ivory beast. The frenzied crowd cheered and chanted. Rayna focused enough to snap several shots. The bull kicked its heels so high she thought it would surely topple over onto its back and crush Clay. His leather chaps flapped with each jolt. A pain stabbed her chest, constricting her breathing. If not for the noise, she could have sworn she was wheezing.

“Are you all right?” Lacie’s voice came from far away. Her blue eyes reflected worry. “Rayna, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t answer, struggling for breath as the bull twisted then threw its head back. If Clay slid forward the tiniest bit, he’d be gored.