CURTIS THOUGHT he might just puke his guts out on Miles’s boots.
His head hurt like a son of a bitch, and standing up, getting his vest back on and his glove taped back up….
Well, he’d had better days.
He scanned the seat where Stetson had been before the last ride, but he wasn’t there.
Goddamn it. He needed the bastard. Needed him here, supporting him. Not running away. He needed Stetson to have faith in him. He could do this. He wasn’t a loser, and he wasn’t going to leave Stetson to deal on his own.
“Do you see him, Miles?”
“Sorry, buddy, I haven’t.”
“Motherfucker.” He was fucking going to puke.
“You want water? You’re green around the gills.”
“Nah. I’d just toss it back up. I just need someplace that doesn’t smell like cow shit.”
“As soon as you ride and smile over your big check, you can go.”
“Right. You just talk to me.” He waited for them to load Tres Equis, angry at that bull and the whole world.
“Until you wheel out into the arena. He’s pissed off at you. You just keep your fucking head safe, okay?”
“I will. No more looking off. He can just lay me out where my rope slips free.”
The crowd started screaming, and then the sound died in an “Awwww.”
Curtis looked at the big screen. KC had just bucked off. All he had to do was make the whistle. Last man standing.
He eased up over the rail, turning to face Tres’s head, and that was when he saw Stetson, standing behind the chutes all the way at the other end.
Stetson was watching him, dark eyes burning.
Please, baby. Please, I need to know you believe in—
Stetson smiled for him, gave him the thumbs-up, and mouthed, “Good ride, cowboy.”
His heart began to pound, the nausea lifting a little. “Okay, you son of a bitch. We’re gonna dance again. I need that title.”
Curtis had a plan, and he wasn’t giving it up. He was going to do this, for them. For both of them.
STETSON COULDN’T remember how to breathe.
That poor baby face was black-and-blue, swelling already, and he just wanted Curtis off that bastard of a beast and safe.
He had to stay there and watch, though. He’d seen that look on Curtis’s face when the cowboy realized where he was, knew that Curtis was counting on him.
Like he’d miss a ride. Shit. Stupid and stalkerish as it sounded, he was Curtis Traynor’s biggest fucking fan.
Curtis settled down on the bull’s back, Miles holding his vest, the Cajun feller pulling rope. This time the bull didn’t crouch or lean. He stood perfectly still, nose blowing hard.
The crowd was just as still, super quiet for having so many folks in it. Some stupid pop song was playing, the announcer blathering away about nothing at all.
He couldn’t cope, but he couldn’t close his eyes. All he could do was wait for Curtis to nod.
Momma, I’m here. I’m here with Curtis, traveling with him like you always wanted me to. Please, put your hand on him. I need him like I need air and Jesus…. He talked to her like he did when she was dying, believing that somewhere she could hear him.
The nod came too soon, but after an endless wait, the gate swung open wide.
“One.”
Curtis took the first deep buck, free arm damn near fouling on the bull’s back end.
“Two.”
The bull spun the opposite direction of what he’d done the first time, turning and kicking like a demon. The dirt and shit flew, making the buckle bunnies in the front row duck and squeal.
“Three.”
Curtis overcorrected, and that demon beast knew it, drawing Curtis down into the well.
He almost climbed the rail but managed to stay behind the chutes, pounding on the metal top bar. “Sit up! Sit up!”
Four.
Curtis started sliding down the well, the bull rope beginning to shift.
“Don’t you let go, cowboy!” he screamed.
Five.
Curtis shifted back up a tiny bit when the bull flopped the other direction, maddened now, trying to get the man off his back. That change helped Curtis stay on, his free arm too close to the bull for safety.
The crowd began to scream, the air thick with excitement. Stetson knew he was hollering, just calling out one encouragement after another.
Six.
The rope slid another inch, but it held, and Curtis’s legs were on opposite sides of the bull. Technically. He could see it, the way Curtis clenched his jaw, that hand never popping free no matter how loose that rope got.
Seven.
The arena vibrated, these Texans raising the roof, the pounding of thousands of boots shaking the entire fucking world.
“Come on, cowboy. For Momma. For me.”
Eight.
The buzzer went off, and the entire row of cowboys stretching out along the chutes beside him lost their shit, whooping and throwing hats.
Curtis let go, and so did Stetson’s breath. Sheer determination had been the only thing keeping him on that bull. He slid free and landed on the ground beneath those sharp, nimble hooves.
Frank the bullfighter swept right in and bopped that bull right on the nose, dancing between the big horns.
“Get out of there! Come on, Curtis! Get out of there!” Don’t hurt yourself again. Don’t let that fucking bull get one more hit.
Curtis rolled, going in the opposite direction of the bull. Yes! All Curtis had to do was get up and run.
Jamie Bardon, one of the best safety men in the business, wheeled around the bull and roped him, dragged him off toward the gate.
Curtis popped up like a jack-in-the-box, pumping his arms in the air.
The crowd roared some more, the announcer’s voice booming. “Curtis Traynor, ladies and gents! All-around NFR champion and Ride of the Champions winner. One. Million. Dollars!”
“He did it.” Curtis was safe. Thank God. Curtis was safe.
Miles grabbed him, pounding him on the back. He had to shout for Stetson to hear him. “Go meet him at the gate, man!”
He took off like a bat out of hell. His cowboy was safe, and now they could get him some ice.
His heart hiccupped, the relief crushing him like it had that day he realized Curtis had saved him. Christ, he wasn’t ready for all this stress.
Curtis waved one more time to the crowd before limping toward him, grinning from ear to ear. Impossible man.
“You did it. Again.” He shook his head, so proud he was fixin’ to bust. “Best cowboy in the world.”
“Yeah, and you gave me a soft place to fall.” The look Curtis gave him liked to burn him to the ground. Lord, that was something.
“It’s all I got, but it’s yours, huh?” He reached for Curtis’s bull rope. “Let me have that so you can have your victory lap.”
“Shit, I guess I do need that, huh? And there’s the check presentation. Don’t you run off. I got something to talk to you about.” Curtis tried for a wink, but that poor eye wasn’t about to do that. “Ow.” Curtis hooted.
“You need ice, as soon as you’re done. I’ll go get it.”
“Okay, Roper. Be right back.” Curtis’s handler came and took his arm, leading him away.
Stetson chuckled and headed back toward sports medicine. They were packing up, moving with hellacious speed. “Can I get an ice pack for Curtis Traynor, please? Can I give him Tylenol or something? His head’s gonna split open.”
“You got it.” The Pete guy grinned and dug into an ice chest. “Hell of a ride, making the eight hanging off the side.”
“He’s not the first champ to do it that way. Doesn’t have to be pretty, right?”
“Nope. The judges reviewed it, so he’s fair and square. Here’s that ice. Let me get you a couple blister packs of Tylenol. Doc would like him to get an X-ray tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Okay. Where do I take him?” The thought of getting out in Saturday night traffic was intimidating, but he’d do it.
“Here.” Pete handed him the pills and a card. “Methodist. It’s about ten-fifteen minutes from here.”
“’Kay.” Lord have mercy. “Thanks. I’ll get out of your way.”
“No problem.” Pete waved him off, and Miles caught him on the way out of the room.
“Hey! Come get his go bag together? We’re surprising him with a little celebration at the hotel. Me and Braden and Terry won a bunch of money off KC’s people.”
“Sure, but he needs an X-ray….”
“Bah, he won’t go. We got to get him out before Barb shows up with a bazillion news folks.”
“Okay….” So, this was new, but Miles knew better than him, so he followed with bull rope, ice pack, and Tylenol.
Braden met them at the door to the locker room. “Hey! Here’s his bag. His good boots are in there, and his phone. Can Miles and I ride back with y’all?”
“Sure. Totally.” He felt weirdly like a children’s book.
Here is a cowboy. He’s carrying a bull rope, an ice pack, drugs, and a bag. In the bag are the cowboy’s boots.
“Thanks. I’ll schlep our gear out to the truck.”
“Hey, there you are.” Curtis came down the hallway, carrying a load of stuff. Flowers? A buckle box. A couple of envelopes.
“Uh. Let’s see if there’s room in your bag. You can trade me for the ice pack.”
“The envelopes are the important stuff. That’s how I get paid.” Curtis glanced around, then drew him aside. “Listen, baby, I wanted to do this out there but—”
“Guys! Come on! Let’s ride!” Miles was tapping his foot like an old granny waiting for someone to take her to church.
“Shit.” Curtis laughed. “Okay, come on.” Curtis took his arm after he stuffed everything but the flowers into the go bag. “We’ll catch our breath.”
“The doctor says you need X-rays.” He handed over the drugs and the ice pack. This was like being drunk, a little bit. Everything was moving faster than he was.
“Nah. If the headache doesn’t fade by the morning, I’ll go on the way to Fort Worth. I keep telling you, I got plans.”
“You sure? I just… you don’t think it’s broke, right?” He’d known guys that had got kicked in the face. That shit was rough.
“I’ve had a cracked cheek. This feels like a bad bonk, but nothing life-threatening.” Curtis chuckled when Terry roared up behind them and began pushing them like a bulldozer.
“Barb is looking for you,” Terry said. “Go, go, go.”
“Shit, baby. Come on. Run!”
“Is she mean?” The whole bunch of them beat boots toward the exit doors.
“No, but she always wants me to do a hundred things, just one more minute.” Curtis towed him along, the easy way he moved soothing his mind about Curtis’s basic condition.
They piled into the truck, Stetson at the wheel, four cowboys in the back seat and another half dozen in the bed.
Lord have mercy, it was like going to a quinceañera or a feast day back home. With more hooting and hollering and hat waving.
They made a beeline for the Sheraton, and the look on the valet guy’s face was a mixture of resignation and amusement. This was Dallas, right? They ought to be used to this scene.
“Y’all take care of this here truck, now,” Braden told the valet. “This belongs to the current king of the fucking cowboys!”
Curtis’s grin rivaled the lit-up ball on the Reunion Tower.
“Yessir.” The valet chuckled, but it didn’t seem mean.
“Well, guys, I’m gonna go change—” Curtis started, but Miles cut him off.
“No, no. You can go rest your head in a minute. Come on.”
“But….”
“Now, man. Come on! Let’s celebrate!” Miles whisked Curtis away. “Braden, stay with Stetson and show him where to go?”
“You got it.” Braden smiled at him. “I’ll help you haul stuff up. You got a few ones for the valet?”
“I do.” Together they got all Curtis’s shit upstairs, and he grabbed himself one of the waters out of the Yeti 110. “You want one?”
“Shit no. There’s a party downstairs, man. We’re gonna celebrate it up right!”
“Well, okay, then.” Stetson could get behind that. Celebrating Curtis Traynor was one of his favorite pastimes.
“Come on.” Braden led the way back to the elevators, where they headed down to the lobby, then back to one of the more private bar areas.
There had to be fifty people in there already, the sound system kicking out “Copenhagen” by Chris LeDoux.
Well, damn.
He grinned as the cowboys walked by Curtis, jabbering at him, taking selfies. He sat across the way in the corner. He watched with a smile because when all was said and done, Curtis came upstairs with him. Then home to Taos.
When Curtis finally caught sight of Stetson, he waved, struggling to get up and come over.
He laughed and waved Curtis back down. “I’m okay, cowboy.”
Curtis raised his hands in a “why me” sort of shrug, then took the beer someone handed him. Stetson watched, but Curtis never took a sip, just let it dangle between his fingers.
He grabbed his phone, texted over, Because you’re the number one cowboy in the world
When Curtis’s phone lit up, he checked it, that grin growing.
I also want to get you within a few feet of me
I can arrange that
He stood up, put his phone in his back pocket, and made his way to Curtis, winding his way through the room. Finally he was standing only a few people away, staring into one blue eye. Curtis needed to keep that ice pack on.
“There he is. Y’all let Stetson through, will you?” Curtis held out a hand to him.
“Pardon me, huh?” He took the hand, squeezed it. “How’s your face?”
“Sore.” Curtis pulled him right up close, Braden pushing him over a stool to plop his ass on. “But not bad. That Tylenol you gave me in the truck is helping.”
“Good deal.” He liked this view better because he could see everything—the spot Curtis had missed shaving, the tiny scar at the edge of his ear.
“Yeah, so look—”
“Curtis Traynor! Are you hiding from me?” A round lady in a pair of dark jeans and a pink button-down plowed through the cowboys to poke Curtis right in the chest.
“No, Barb. I’m just not in any shape to talk to the press.” Curtis indicated his eye. “I’m broke.”
“You’re not that broke. You’re drinking beer.”
“He hasn’t had so much as a sip.” Stetson wasn’t about to let nobody snarl at his cowboy.
Barb frowned over. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Stetson Major.” He held out one hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Oh. Oh! Well, hey. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She turned to Curtis again. “Can I at least get you to do one interview with that radio show before you leave for Fort Worth?”
“Sure. Half an hour tops, though.”
“It’s a deal. You can do it over the phone. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.”
“Good deal. You text me what time, and I’ll be up.”
Famous fancy-pants cowboy.
Stetson chuckled softly, stealing the bottle from between Curtis’s loose fingers and sneaking a long draw.
Curtis still couldn’t wink, but he kept trying. “You staying to have a drink, Barb? Is Joe here?”
“Joe is dancing with one of your fans. I think I will stay for a beer, thanks for asking.”
“Good. I got something to say, and I want all of you to be the first to hear it. Braden, can you ask them to turn down the music?” Curtis looked just about done. Not angry. Just ready to have his way.
“I’m on it, boss!”
Stetson leaned close. “You okay, cowboy?”
“I am more than okay.” Curtis grabbed his wrist, helping him balance. “I just keep trying to do this right, and no one is letting me.”
“Do what, honey? Are you dizzy? You’re worrying me.”
“Nope. What I am is determined.” The music level went way down, and Curtis’s smile went Cheshire cat wide. He stood, but he didn’t let go of Stetson’s wrist. “Hey, guys, can I have your attention for a minute?”
“You’re the boss!” Miles called out, the laughter filling the air.
“I am. I’m the champ.” Curtis laughed, the sound so happy and free, Stetson had to smile along. “Anyway, I’ve known most of you for more years than I can count, especially tonight, the way I got my bell rung. So I want you to be in on this. I’ve had a good year. I won some buckles, got some good licks in, but the best part was when Stetson here called me and asked me to come see him.”
Yeah. And Curtis said yes. Yes, I’ll come, I’ll help.
Stetson held on, pleased as punch.
“We all know this sport is a young man’s game, and I ain’t getting any younger. I’ve been at loose ends for a couple of years, and Stetson, well, he’s given me a place to call home.” Curtis let him go, but only to reach into his pocket and pull out a little black box. “I’m hoping he’s gonna let me make it permanent.”
The entire room went dead silent.
He stared at Curtis. “Cowboy?” Was this real?
“Yep.” Curtis opened the box, which held a wide, flat band ring with a recessed channel of turquoise running all around the middle. “I got the ring last month in Santa Fe. Will you marry me, Stetson Major?”
Never in his whole life did he dream to hear those words. Not even in his wildest dreams. “Yessir, I think I will.”
Curtis beamed like he was Christmas and New Year’s and Easter, all come on the same day.
A huge round of applause sounded, but Stetson didn’t care. All he heard was Curtis’s voice, the soft whisper of “Thank God.”
Then Curtis grabbed him and hugged him until he couldn’t catch his breath. He reckoned the kissing would have to wait until they got back to their room. This was Dallas, after all.
“Come upstairs? Please?” He whispered the words, but that was what he wanted. To talk to Curtis. To wear his ring.
“Yep. You guys have a good night, and thanks for celebrating with me!” Curtis took his hand, then paused in front of Barb. “Can we buy the guys a round and you charge it to me when I get that check cashed?”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Late tomorrow.”
“Phone interview,” she said.
“Right. But then I’ll go back to sleep.” Curtis waved to Barb, and they ran the gauntlet of cowboys shaking their hands and slapping their backs.
Stetson walked in a daze, the world making no sense at all.
Curtis got him to the room and closed the door, then slipped that ring on his finger. It fit perfectly.
“Thank you. This—what a day. Are all events this exciting?”
“Nope. They’re usually pretty dull, actually.” Curtis stood about a foot away, his expression… weirdly uncertain.
“Well, I’m glad to have been at this one. Did you mean it? You want us legal?”
“I mean it. I’ve been thinking hard about it since Christmas. It felt right. I wanted to ask you right after I rode, but it just didn’t happen.” Curtis ducked his head. “It’s good, right? You’re not mad?”
“Cowboy, I’d never let myself imagine…. I’ve been yours forever. You have to know that.”
“I do. And we’re ready now. I know we are.” Curtis took Stetson’s hands, excitement in every line of his body. “The thought of waking up next to you, of us running that horse ranch together… it makes me tickled to get up every day.”
“I’m in. First, I’m going to get you another bag of ice before your face explodes.”
“My practical Roper.” Curtis caught him when he would have turned away. “Actually, first you’re gonna kiss me.”
“I am.” He was going to kiss his fiancé. How fucking amazing was that?
Curtis pulled him in, and the kiss was gentle and sweet. He could feel how hot Curtis’s skin was on his cheek.
“Stop thinking, baby. Kiss me one more time.”
One more time.
He could do that, again and again.