If there was anything better to do on a Saturday morning than prepping for a rodeo, Joe couldn’t imagine what it would be. He stood in the alley behind the bucking chutes watching the last three horses clatter down the loading chute from the truck and smiled from pure pleasure. The sound of hooves on metal and wood always got his juices flowing. Following Cole’s hand signals, he let the stud horse trot on past, then stepped out and waved his sorting stick to turn the two geldings into an open pen on his left.
Hank swung the gate shut behind them and secured the chain, then strolled over to Joe and did a double take. “Did you get a haircut?”
“Yeah.” Joe plucked his hat off and ruffled a hand over his head, feeling naked with parts of his neck exposed that hadn’t seen daylight in years. “I told him to just take a little off the ends.”
“You musta got it done at the barber shop in Earnest. Ol’ Leroy learned to cut hair back when high and tight was in style and he’s never bothered to learn anything else. But hey, if you get a sudden urge to enlist in the Army…”
Joe glared, but it didn’t take any of the shine off Hank’s grin.
“So…did you and Violet go out again last night?” Hank’s blatant emphasis on out made it clear he wasn’t asking if they’d caught another movie.
“Beni was home,” Joe said. “And Violet’s busy catching up on her book work.”
When Beni wasn’t two steps behind her, she’d been holed up in the office. Frustrating, but it had given Joe a chance to borrow her car to go get the haircut and few other odds and ends. He was flying blind when it came to courting, but ever since she’d laughed when he declared his intentions, he’d been bound and determined to prove her wrong.
“You going out tonight?” Hank persisted. “Assuming she still wants to be seen with you and that hair.”
“She said it looked fine.”
And she was a lousy liar, especially when she couldn’t stop smirking. Otherwise the day had clicked along right on schedule. No breakdowns or meltdowns in the process of transferring the stock to today’s rodeo, only an hour and a half from the ranch. Nice drive, through wide-open country. Violet had barely blinked when Joe climbed in her pickup. With Beni in the backseat, they’d had to watch what they said, but it turned out to be easy. They had plenty to talk about. Bucking stock, rodeos, ranches…a few times during the drive Joe had almost forgotten she was a girl. Almost.
“My sister said to tell you there’s a place called the Bootlegger on the south side of town,” Hank said. “It’s kind of a dump, but the music is good and the beer is cold.”
“I think I like your sister.”
“She’s a pain in the ass, but she’d know if it’s the place to party. She and Violet used to hit ’em all.”
Really? Now there was a side of Violet that Joe would like to see. He handed his sorting stick to Hank. “Give this to Cole so he doesn’t have a conniption because he came up one short. I’m gonna grab some lunch.”
Hank took the stick, grinning again. “If I was you, I’d keep my hat on.”
Joe snarled, but it was hard to put much behind it when Hank had a point. He swung by one of the semis first to grab a shopping bag he’d left in the sleeper along with his duffel. He’d declined Violet’s offer of a motel room, preferring to stay at the rodeo grounds when they’d only be here one night. Saved running back and forth. Kept him closer to Violet. Not that he craved her company, but he’d staked a claim that day at practice. Now people would expect to see them together.
His next stop was Iris’s trailer. She’d left a pair of huge coolers under the awning, one packed with iced-down sodas and jugs of homemade sweet tea, the other with tubs of potato salad and roast beef sandwiches on thick slices of homemade bread. It was worth working for Jacobs Livestock just for Iris’s food, as long as you made sure you got to it ahead of Cole. Joe loaded up his bag with lunch for two, tossed in a few oatmeal cookies and headed for Violet’s trailer. Either by chance or intent, she’d parked right next door to Joe’s Peterbilt bedroom, which might be more temptation than he could handle if Beni weren’t camped in her trailer, too.
Even that couldn’t dampen Joe’s mood. A cool front had eased in, dropping the temperature ten degrees and taking the humidity down with it, making it a damn near perfect day. He had a sackful of good food and a hot chick to share it with—not that he’d ever let Violet hear him call her a chick. She was out in the arena, with Beni and his pony bouncing along behind as she helped pen the timed-event cattle.
Beni had wolfed down his lunch while everyone else was unloading. When the last of the steers were sorted, instead of following his mother, he switched to trotting circles around Cole as he walked the fences, examining every gate, post, and fence rail for potential hazards to his precious stock. Soon as everyone else got some chow, the horses and bulls would have their turn for a lap or two around the arena to get a feel for the ground and where to find the exit gate. Animals handled easier and performed better when they knew where they were going and what to expect. Sort of like people.
Joe set his bag down and went to work, unrolling the awning on Violet’s trailer and pulling an outdoor carpet and folding chairs from the storage bin underneath. Behind him, the tractor fired up, rolling into the arena with a plow attached. They’d dig the ground deep first, water it, then work it again with the groomer, packing it for traction and speed. The smell of diesel fumes, damp earth, and manure was like a snort of cocaine, pumping up Joe’s system. For a few hours, before the contestants or the fans rolled in, the rodeo grounds belonged solely to the contractor.
Joe loved this part. He loved all the parts. Beginning, middle, and end, there was nothing about any rodeo he wanted to skip. At the big shows, where the committee just expected him and Wyatt to show up for the bull riding, he didn’t get to help with any of the good stuff. Yeah, Pendleton and Ellensburg and Red Bluff were great rodeos, but Joe would be perfectly satisfied with what Jacobs Livestock had, at least as a start.
He’d been working toward that start since the first summer on Dick’s ranch, soaking up every iota of knowledge that Dick was willing to share or Joe could steal. He scraped and scrimped, living in a dingy one-room apartment above the Mint Bar, driving a fifteen-year-old car, signing autographs at western stores in exchange for free jeans while he stashed every extra dime, all with an eye to the day he could offer Dick Browning the one thing he could never resist—a big chunk of cold hard cash. And now, with Lyle gone, Joe’s chances had more than doubled, unless Dick decided to hold a grudge.
But he wasn’t going to waste this spectacular day brooding about Dick. He was pushing at the little portable table, trying to find a spot where it didn’t rock, when Violet came out of the arena. She stopped short when she saw him. Compared to her ranch attire, she looked dressed up with her sleeveless denim blouse tucked into dark jeans and her hair loose around her face, glistening in the sunlight.
“Is this part of the courting?” she asked, both cautious and amused, as she joined him under the awning.
He jerked his head toward where the others were gathering at Iris’s trailer. “I know more about stock than women, so I figured I’d make like a stud horse and cut you out of the herd.”
Violet laughed. “Sweet talk like that, hard to believe you’ve never done this before.”
“What can I say? I’m a natural.”
He set out sandwiches, salad, and drinks on the table and they settled in, hungry enough to put food ahead of conversation. Joe wolfed down both of his sandwiches, polished off his potato salad, and washed it all down with sweet tea, then leaned back and gave a heartfelt sigh of contentment.
Violet offered Joe a cookie, then broke off a small piece of her own. “So, Wyatt. He’s sort of…”
“An ass?”
“I was going to say scary.”
Joe paused mid-bite. “Most women think he’s cool.”
“Only if that’s what he wants them to think.”
Joe lowered his cookie, surprised. Wyatt’s charm was generally foolproof. “You don’t like him?”
“Like is too simple. A person who likes Wyatt hasn’t bothered to look past what he wants them to see.” She shook her head again. “I can’t imagine living with someone like that.”
“Neither could his wife.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “He was married?”
“For eighteen months, to a stripper he met during the Reno rodeo. Picture Wyatt playing house with a woman named Bambi, and you can guess how well that worked out.”
“Was he temporarily insane?”
Joe shrugged. “She was okay. Smarter than you’d expect. She just needed a chance.”
“And Wyatt rescued her.”
“It’s the frustrated preacher in him. He’s gotta have someone to save.” Joe savored the first caramel-crisp bite of his cookie, then asked, ever so casually, “What did the two of you talk about?”
“Nothing important.” Violet was suddenly too busy cleaning up the table to meet his eye, but she paused in the midst of stacking their empty plates to give him a grave look. “He’s got your back, Joe. Always.”
Joe dropped his gaze to his cookie. “I know.”
Damn Wyatt. He’d told her things, probably stuff that would make Joe squirm. He could pry it out of her, but then he’d have to talk about whatever it was, so he reached down for the shopping bag instead.
“I bought you something.”
Violet froze, then set the plates back on the table. “Like…a present?”
“Yes. I saw it in the window of one of those places in the mall and I thought it was perfect for you.”
He reached into the bag, pulled out a box and set it on the table. She stared at it like he’d dished up a live snake. Even without the logo, there wasn’t much doubt what store it came from.
Violet’s cheeks went as pink as the box. “I, ah, you shouldn’t have. Really.”
Joe pushed it closer to her. “You don’t even know what it is.”
But she was making educated guesses that turned her cheeks even pinker. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching, then snatched the box off the table and plunked it on her lap, trying to cover it with her hands.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“Sure. Later.”
Joe folded his arms and gave her his best wounded look. “At least read the card.”
Her jaw worked a few times, then clamped hard as she tore open the little white envelope. Joe watched her expression as she deciphered his crappy handwriting. Rose’s are red, Violet’s are blue…
She slapped her hands down on the box again, crushing the card. “That is not funny.”
Joe grinned. “Actually, it is. See for yourself.”
She yanked the ribbon off the box, fumbled the lid open, and ripped out the tissue paper. Her face went blank. Then she burst out laughing. “You bought me Wonder Woman underwear?”
Joe stood and leaned close to her, breathing in the fruit of the day, crisp green apples. Different. Nice. “Like I said, they’re perfect for you. And there’s something else in there for you. Don’t throw away the paper until you find it.”
He kissed her cheek and sauntered away, feeling pretty damn proud of himself. He might not be a natural, but he didn’t completely suck.