A Home in Hill Country (Harlequin Heartwarming) (14 page)

There was nothing to worry about at all.

S
HE’D STARTED OUT
by sitting a respectable distance away, but midway through the rodeo, Kristin leaned into Ryan to ward off the chilly night air and cradled her cup of hot cocoa and plate of fried chicken, thankful for their warmth.

They sat five rows up, just past the front of the chutes, and all around them, the crowd alternately had cheered and moaned as the events rolled past. Saddle broncs. Team roping. The barrel racers in flashy sequined tops. Bareback broncs. Goat tying for fledgling cowpokes.

During the intermission, she’d been spellbound by the kids riding calves out in the arena.

“A guy told me that the fried chicken concession here is the best in the whole region.” Ryan grinned at her. “You oughta eat that before I polish off yours, too.”

“Right now, it’s keeping my hands warm. Who knew it would be so cold tonight?”

He gave her a nudge. “The weather guy on the radio, for one.”

“Aah, but you didn’t bring a jacket, either,” she
countered. She dug into the fried chicken and sighed blissfully. “This is fantastic. How many people would think of coming to a rodeo for something like this?”

He waved a hand toward the overflow crowd, most of them families with children of all ages. “Them, for starters. I bet a lot of these people come out every time there’s a rodeo in town—that line at the food booth still trails out into the parking lot.”

She savored another bite. “We were lucky we got here early.”

“Hang on to our seats, would you? I’m going behind the chutes to check on Garrett. He should be up pretty soon.”

She watched Ryan ease past the others sitting in their row, then make his way down the packed bleachers. Nothing to worry about if she came to this rodeo with him? She’d been dead wrong. Until now, whenever she’d seen him, there’d been other people around—Cody, Hayden, Max—and they’d served as a comfortable buffer that kept interaction superficial.

But tonight… Oh, my.

On the way here, they’d slipped right into the same easy repartee they’d shared back in college, discussing everything from the Dallas Cowboys to the ongoing troubles in the Middle East, from the last book they’d each read to a professor they’d
both had for Statistics 101 in college. She’d forgotten how easy Ryan was to talk to…how the hours could just roll past and seem like minutes.

It was all coming back, though. She wished they weren’t surrounded by a thousand raucous rodeo fans, because now she longed to find out if other things were the same, as well.

The way he kissed, for instance, cradling her head in his hands as if she were the most precious thing in the world. No one else had ever made her feel that way. Definitely not Ted. Not the few other men she’d tried dating after the divorce, either.

Yep, she was in trouble, yet she and Ryan hadn’t so much as exchanged a single, chaste kiss. And probably wouldn’t, if his cautious distance was any clue.

He’d rested a courteous hand at the small of her back as they made their way through the crowd. Draped an arm across her shoulders to tell her something while they’d waited in that interminable chicken line with loudspeakers blaring overhead.

But he hadn’t made a move otherwise, and it was for the best.

A hefty woman, her four kids and skinny husband squeezed past, stepping on Kristin’s toes with murmurs of apology and spilling several pieces of popcorn down her scoop neck sweater.

Once they made it past, she surreptitiously tried to retrieve the popcorn.

“You okay with that?”

Embarrassed, she looked up into Ryan’s twinkling eyes. “Thanks, yes.”

He tossed her a bulky plastic sack. “Check this out.”

Surprised, she retrieved the last piece of popcorn, tore open the package, and lifted out a lightweight Western down jacket, in deep garnet red. “Oh, my,” she breathed. “This is
beautiful.
”

“Try it on.”

It had to have cost a good hundred dollars or more. “I—it’s gorgeous, but I just can’t accept it—and I don’t have this kind of money along.”

“Consider it a gift. If you keep shivering, you’re going to end up shaking us both right off of these bleachers.”

“But—”

“Consider it a very
belated
gift, then.” His eyes darkened. “I remember when I wished I could buy you the moon, and I could barely afford hamburgers and malts. This is from the boy back then.”

“I…well…” She faltered, then finally accepted it. “I’ll pay you back next month, I promise.”

“Don’t. I—”

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The announcer’s voice rose to a crescendo, the crowd cheering in response. “The event you’ve been waiting for
all night. The event that means life or death in eight seconds for these rough, tough, crazy cowboys—and the rodeo clowns who risk their lives to save them. Folks, it’s
bull riding.
On deck now, in Chute 3, we have…”

Ryan helped Kristin into the jacket, then wedged onto the seat next to her. “I found Garrett, and I tried to talk him out of this. Nearly got a black eye in the process.”

“He’s not good at it? Or are you just a worried big brother?”

“He’s already got some sort of injury. He’s taking a big chance.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for him, then.” Kristin craned her neck to see over the tall cowboy hat in front of her.

A small black bull took one jump out of Chute 3 then dived into a hard spin to the right. Two rodeo clowns closed in, their entire focus on the wildly bucking bull and the rider who was tipping precariously to the left. In a flash he was airborne. The buzzer sounded two seconds later.

Five other cowboys came out, but only two made it to the buzzer and both scored low.

“There he is. He’s up next,” Ryan said pointing toward the chutes. “And according to the rodeo program, he’s got a serious draw. Jackhammer.”

Her attention riveted on Chute 5, she barely
heard the announcer’s spiel about the bull’s bucking history.

The bull—a massive red roan—reared in the chute and tried to crawl over the top of the gate. Garrett stepped off onto the rail until he settled, then eased back onto the bull’s broad, heavily muscled back. He took a quick wrap of bull rope, nodding to the gate man. The gate swung wide. The bull exploded into the arena with unleashed power that brought Kristin and the rest of the crowd to their feet.

Jackhammer tore into a fast spin to the left, then reversed gears and took a high, twisting leap to the right, its bell jangling and hooves slamming into the earth with jaw-rattling force as it dodged back to the left. Stumbled.

Then crashed into the row of closed chute gates with Garrett somewhere beneath it.

The clowns both raced forward, inches from the front of the bull as it staggered to its feet, shook its horns and spun back to slam Garrett against the chute once, then twice before losing interest.

Two mounted ring men raced over and herded the bull out of the arena. The gate men rushed to Garrett’s side, and the medic arrived seconds later.

Stunned, Kristin hurried after Ryan as he flew
down the risers to the arena, vaulted over the fence and ran to Garrett.

But even after those endless seconds, Garrett wasn’t moving.

B
Y THE TIME
the ambulance had loaded Garrett, he was half-conscious and talking, his blood pressure stable, but no one could be sure of just how much damage he’d incurred.

Ryan’s face was impassive as they followed the ambulance to a nearby hospital.

“You tried to stop him,” Kristin said. “That’s all you could do. He’s a grown man, making his own decisions.”

“Stupid ones,” Ryan bit out. “He’s throwing his life away on this. From what I hear, even his rodeo buddies have tried to make him back off on the bulls.”

“He doesn’t see that for himself?”

“He’s cocky, he’s young. Thinks he owns the world, and the bull riders are the stars of the rodeo.”

“And that kind of thinking could get him killed.” Kristin laid a hand on Ryan’s arm. “At least you were here tonight.”

“To pick up the pieces?” He gave her a brief glance. “He won’t thank me for it. He’s run wild most of his life, and has refused to answer to anyone. This won’t be the end of it, I’m sure.”

Three hours later, after X-rays, an MRI and lab work, the E.R. staff trundled Garrett out of emergency in a wheelchair and helped him up into the backseat of Ryan’s truck.

“The doctor did want you to stay overnight,” said one of the older nurses. “You can still change your mind.”

At Garrett’s vehement
no,
she reluctantly held out his discharge documents.

Kristin reached around Garrett to accept them. “We’ll stay with him tonight, promise.”

“Any problems, and he’ll be in San Antonio, pronto,” Ryan added. “Thanks for everything.”

Garrett waited until they were out of the parking lot, then groaned. “No matter what that nurse said, no more docs. I’ll be f-fine.”

“Yeah, wait until those painkillers wear off and tell me that again.” Ryan’s sharp tone echoed the concern etched on his face as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Maybe next time, you’ll take better care of yourself.”

Kristin twisted in her seat to look back at Garrett. The crimson hematoma covering his right cheek would be purple by morning; his eye was already swollen shut.

Two thousand pounds of angry bull had also given him three cracked ribs, a mild concussion and a killer headache. It was an absolute miracle
he wasn’t lying on a surgery table…or worse. “Are you comfortable enough back there?”

“Dandy,” he snarled without opening his eyes. He grabbed at the Navajo saddle blanket draped across the backrest of his seat, then shifted so he could lean into the corner and draped the blanket over his long legs. “I still think you coulda called someone at the ranch and gotten the chopper over here.”

“Trevor’s gone for the weekend. Dad can’t pilot any longer. Who’s gonna bring it, Adelfa?”

Grumbling, Garrett tipped his black hat down over his eyes. “Jus’ wake me up when we’re home.”

Miles of empty Texas prairie rolled by, marked by an occasional intersection boasting a gas station, or a few shabby, deserted buildings that might once have been the seeds of a small town.

“I’m sorry about this evening,” Ryan murmured as he turned off the two-lane blacktop and onto a cloverleaf entrance for I-10. He glanced at the digital clock set in the dash. “Here you have a weekend alone to get lots of things done at your place, and you’ll be too tired to do anything but sleep. We won’t get back until three.”

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed the rodeo a great deal until Garrett got hurt. I haven’t done anything like this since I was a kid. My dad…” Belatedly remembering that her father was a
touchy subject at the Four Aces, she faltered to a stop. The heavy weight of sadness and loss settled into her chest. “He was a good man, Ryan. I know he had his faults, but…”

Ryan took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not convinced my father and Leland are right about him. A man is innocent until proven guilty in my book.”

“But you’re working in the ranch’s office, right?” The warmth of his hand felt so reassuring that she felt a glimmer of hope. “You’d be able to tell what happened?”

“It’s not that easy. Nothing was computerized—or at least, not very well. A lot of documents are misfiled or incomplete, and while I’m trying to go through all of that, most of my time has to be spent on current business.”

And he planned to leave in just two more months, leaving behind the Gallaghers who were already convinced of her father’s crime. Her hope faded. “So in the end, my dad will take the blame and my son will always believe his grandfather was a thief.”

“Whatever happened, you and your son had nothing to do with it.”

Garrett stirred. She turned to look at him, then unbuckled her seat belt and reached back to lay her hand against his forehead. “How’re you doing?”

He cracked open his good eye. “Like I can’t wait to get out of this truck. Where are we, anyway?”

“Another hour.” Ryan glowered at him in the rearview mirror. “Just be thankful we were there, or you’d be on a Greyhound—if there were any routes even close to that town—or you’d be hitching a ride back.”

Kristin settled into her seat and fastened her seat belt. “He’s still got an hour before he’s due for another pain capsule.”

“Anyone who wants to ride bulls for a living must be pretty tough. He’ll live.”

Ryan’s words were harsh, but his profile, illuminated by the dim lights on the dashboard, revealed a much deeper concern for his brother than he wanted to show, Kristin decided. “I’m sure he will.”

At the exit for Homestead, Ryan took the cloverleaf and headed into the darkness. Here and there, security lights glowed like distant stars on the hillsides, marking the otherwise invisible presence of ranches and acreages. He took a back road around the town itself, and a few miles later he turned up the drive to Cedar Grove Farm.

Kristin, who’d been checking on Garrett again, turned to Ryan in surprise. “Wait a minute—I said I’d come to the ranch with you. I can be there if he has any problems.”

Ryan drove up to her front door before pulling
to a stop. Turning toward her, one wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel, he reached out and gently cupped her chin. “You’ve been wonderful. Three hours in an E.R. and having the privilege of listening to my ungrateful brother is more than anyone could ask.”

“But—”

“I’ll check on him every hour. He seems to be doing just fine, but if anything comes up I promise I’ll call. Fair enough?”

He was so close, in the intimate confines of the cab, his light blue eyes shadowed by the thick crescents of his eyelashes, the lean angles of his face mysterious and compelling in the darkness. She imagined the feel of his kiss….

“Hey, man,” Garrett mumbled drunkenly from the backseat. “I…I’m about…to barf. Get me…out…”

Ryan jerked back and flung open his door. In a heartbeat he had his arm around Garrett’s shoulders. “C’mon, buddy. I’ve got you. Just nice, slow breaths, now…” Garret winced and cried out as Ryan eased him to his feet. “Any better?”

“Maybe the fresh air will help.” Kristin moved to Garrett’s other side. “This could be due to his mild concussion or the pain meds. Has he ever had any problem with codeine?”