Heavenly Angel (39 page)

The crowd cheered for all the little ones as they lined up for a quick photograph for the
Divine Courier
newspaper.

“I’m gonna be a mutton-buster boy!” Michael crowed when they returned to their seats.

Angel grinned and said, “You’re eligible after you turn four.”

Teresa laughed gaily when Michael did a triumphant fist pump and climbed into Angel’s lap.

Soon the rough-stock competitions began, with bareback bronc riding, followed by saddle bronc riding. The top riders would ride one more time on the third night in the “short go” round. The cowboys with the highest total scores would claim the cash purses offered for those competitions.

Teresa watched, riveted, as the first bucking horse was loaded into the chute and a cowboy climbed in and mounted the animal. The side door was pulled open, and the horse erupted from the chute, leaping in the air and bowing in two, all four feet off the ground.

Their seating was close enough to the bucking chutes that the sounds the animals made and the vibrations from their hooves could clearly be heard and felt. Six and a half seconds into his first ride, the cowboy was bucked off but landed on his feet. One of the pickup riders shooed the bronc back to the exit with little difficulty. Because he’d not stayed on for the requisite eight seconds, the rider received no score, which Teresa soon realized was not uncommon.

Most often, it seemed the rough stock won this competition between man and animal. Teresa recognized Ash as he climbed onto the pipe fencing around the bucking chute then moments later the announcer called his name. Waving when the crowd cheered for him, he mounted the horse. His movements as he readied himself were swift, tight, and confident. Teresa briefly glimpsed Joaquin on the pipe fencing before Ash gave a sharp nod, and the gate swung open.

The horse and its rider lurched from the bucking chute. The horse sounded infuriated as it leapt in the air, landed as though spring-loaded, and all four feet went flying, twisting and trying to buck Ash off. The cowboy moved with fluid agility, finding a rhythm with the wildly bucking, twisting, turning animal. Ash’s free arm flew through the air, staying well away from the animal and himself just as the regulations stipulated. The motions of the pair were by turns abrupt and violent but also smooth and graceful.

Ash lasted the full eight seconds, released the surcingle, and leapt to the back of Ethan’s horse as the other pickup rider herded the still-bucking horse to the exit. At the last second, the horse turned from the exit and streaked across the arena, still bucking to the cheers of the crowd, which seemed to egg it on. The pickup rider finally roped the uncooperative horse and led him toward the exit.

The announcer picked that moment to chime in. “That brings back memories of me trying to get my wife outta Wal-Mart.”

Even to Teresa’s untrained eye, his performance had been a good one. He moved on the horse as though he were comfortable, if that were possible, finding a rhythmic counterpoint to the violent attempts by the animal to unseat him.

Angel was appreciative when they announced Ash’s score of 86.5. The next rider was not so fortunate. He was unable to achieve a good bucking rhythm with his horse and got his bell rung when he rocked forward as his horse bucked back, popping him in the forehead and knocking him semi-conscious. Ethan and his horse leapt between the wildly bucking animal and the rider, giving the rodeo clowns a chance to assist him out of the arena so he would not be trampled by the animal. By the end of the first night of bronc riding, Ash had earned a place in the top five.

The bull riding was the finale of the evening, prior to the concert afterward. Joaquin was the last to ride, so Teresa was certain she would have a chance to acclimate herself to the sight and sounds of the bulls as their riders attempted to cheat them out of eight seconds astride their bucking backs. It was no easy feat, and the first rider was thrown almost immediately.

She’d grown accustomed to watching the horses as they came from the chutes but was assailed by the difference as the second bull, which the announcer said was a 1,800-pound veteran of the rodeo circuit, pounded from the shoot. The ground thundered under him, and the crowd went wild as the rider, a well-known cowboy from Colorado, did his best to spur him on, establishing that same graceful fluidity, riding counterpoint to the bull’s bucking.

It all went well until the last second, when he lost his rhythm and was almost unseated as the snorting beast changed directions suddenly, and he was unable to regain his seat atop the bull. He made the full eight seconds, but the last second wasn’t pretty. He looked pissed off as he caught Adam’s hand to get away from the bull while Ethan worked to haze the bull into the exit chute.

Rider after rider gave it their all as their turn came. Teresa noticed some wore helmets and others merely wore cowboy hats. She knew Joaquin was only wearing a hat, but she was grateful for his sport foam and Kevlar vest.

One of the riders avoided injury thanks to his protective vest when he was thrown from a bull that attempted to gore him. The rodeo clowns distracted the bull, and Ethan herded it away. His horse proved its own tremendous athletic ability as it avoided the bull’s horns, as well. Teresa noticed Grace’s knuckles were white as Jack held her hand, but her face betrayed no emotion.

Teresa’s heart lurched when she saw Joaquin leap up to the pipe fence and swing a leg over. He looked in the direction of the VIP seating. She prayed and gripped Angel’s hand tightly, mesmerized by the sight of the huge bull they had just fought to load into the chute.

“All right, folks. Y’all be honest with me now,” the announcer began in his west-Texan twang. “How many of you are
really
rooting for the bulls tonight?” The audience laughed and many cheered. “Our final competitor of the evening is up now. Y’all cheer for Joaquin Martinez as he takes on CC, or vice versa, cheer on CC as he takes on Joaquin!”

The crowds roared as Joaquin prepared to ride the humongous beast. Angel leaned to her and said, “I know you’re scared, Teresa. Joaquin knows you’re scared. He wants to show you what he loves to do. It’s violent and often ugly, but he’s
good
. Listen, you can tell by the applause they know he’s going to do well on CC. Smile real big and wave. Show Joaquin you’re
proud
of him. You want him focused on that bull. Give him what he needs, beautiful,” Angel said, urging her.

Teresa burst from her seat as Joaquin perched on the rail, and put her index and ring finger to her lips, the hand that displayed his wedding band, and gave an eardrum-shattering whistle.

Anyone would have thought he’d won the lottery. An idiotic, lopsided grin split his face, and he grasped his chest with both hands over his heart. All the cowboys around him laughed and then looked into the stands for the source of his goofy behavior. She waved at him and blew a kiss before sitting next to Angel again.

“That there, ladies and gentlemen, is the look of a newly-wedded
man in love
as he is cheered on by his lovely new wife and his brother, Angel, whom you may remember as saddle-bronc champion from two years ago. Give ‘em a round, folks.”

Joaquin blew her a kiss then turned very seriously to the business at hand. She glanced uncertainly at Angel, but he smiled and shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful. If anybody says something, we’ll just tell them the announcer misspoke. It doesn’t matter to us what any of them think. We like to see you happy and free like this.”

Joaquin mounted the bull, and his motions as he adjusted the rope over his riding hand were tight and energetic before becoming motionless. He gave a small nod, and the gate was yanked open. The massive, 1,800-pound bull exploded from the chute, and Teresa could have sworn she felt the vibration of his angry snorting, and pounding hooves in her chest as he thrashed and bucked.

CC’s massive rear legs shot off the ground, and he began a twisting, rolling motion, turning and bucking in a tight circle to the right then twisting again, and began an even faster twisting motion to the left. Joaquin rode him with athletic elegance, his free arm swinging wide and clear, balancing him as he stayed astride the bull.

He spurred the bull, which switched directions again, snorting furiously as all four hooves left the ground, and he arched and twisted again. Each time the great beast made contact with the compacted dirt of the arena, Teresa felt it in her chest. She sat in awe, watching as Joaquin rode out each bucking wave, his arm stretched out long behind him over his head. The bull pitched forward, trying to buck him over his horns, and Joaquin held on tight and spurred him into another rolling circle.

The buzzer sounded, and the arena erupted in cheers as he leapt triumphantly from CC right behind Ethan on his horse and rode back to the gate as the bull was rousted out of the arena by the other rider.

It was then that Teresa noticed she was standing, along with Angel, who had Michael in his arms. Michael was yelling and waving at the top of his lungs. She sent up a grateful prayer to God that Michael hadn’t seen Joaquin get hurt tonight.

Then the thought struck her.

Michael was probably going to want to do this, too. Teresa filed that away for later thought.
Later
she would ponder how she’d be able to watch her son ride an 1,800-pound bull. She was just grateful Joaquin had been successful.

Feeling like a limp noodle, she sat back down. Grace caught her eye and gave her a wink and an exaggerated sigh of relief. Angel hugged her and said, “That’s how it’s
supposed
to look. That was a good ride, all eight seconds. I’ll bet he tells you later that ride was for you.”

“Wow,” she said feebly. “That was amazing.”

The arena broke out in wild applause a second later when his score flashed on the scoreboard. Ninety-one point five. Everyone from the Divine Creek Ranch leapt to their feet, cheering and hollering.

Down on the dirt in the arena, Joaquin did a triumphant fist pump and looked up in the stands. Teresa waved and blew him kisses, and his face glowed with happiness as he blew a kiss back to her before sauntering from the dirt floor of the arena, his chaps waving and flapping with each movement.

“Daddy rode that bull good, huh, Mommy?” Michael said, his eyes glowing with excitement.

Two more riders took their turns, finishing out their eight seconds, but with less stellar scores.

Michael turned to Teresa. “Mommy, I need to use the potty.”

Angel offered, but Teresa assured him they would be fine, and she led Michael from the stands. He had, of course, worn his full cowboy outfit. Hat, bandana, plaid shirt, denim vest, jeans, belt, chaps, spurs, and boots. Several friendly people called congratulations out to her as she hurried him to the potty. Like any other red-blooded American boy that age, he’d waited until the last second to tell her he needed to go. She hurried him into the restroom as he hummed desperately. She helped him with his chaps and then let him do his thing.

“Holy guacamole! Ay! Chihuahua!” he exclaimed as he tinkled. She doubled over trying to hold in her laughter.

Teresa heard the scuffle of several pairs of boots approaching outside. A dulcet, sexy voice said in a steely tone, “Oh, no you
don’t
, Judith. Why can’t you leave well enough alone? You’ve had him, and now he’s off the market.”

An angry-sounding, whiney voice replied, “Don’t act all high and mighty with me, Gwen. Seems I recall it was you going back to the hotel with him at Christmas. You’re not going to dictate to me what I can or can’t do. It’s not fair, and it’s not right that she claims them
both
. I’m giving her a
piece of my fucking mind
.” Teresa felt chills go up her back. Thankfully, Michael was singing to himself, unaware of the exchange taking place outside the ladies’ room entrance.

“Oh, no, you’re not, potty mouth. Turn around. See? We’ve been keeping an eye on you and your group of cohorts from backstage. Joaquin knew her little boy would need the potty sooner or later, and we knew you all would try something if everyone was distracted. Mmm-mmm, what a shame. Look at all those prime,
single, available
cowboys watching all of
you
make asses of yourselves. We had our chance, and he made his choice. As to whether or not she claimed both of them, that’s none of your business. Hmm,” the unknown voice chuckled before continuing, “interesting how fast your friends scatter, Judith.”

“It ain’t right!”

“And you’re such a good judge of what’s wrong and right. Puh-lease! Go find another man, and leave them alone.”

The whiney voice growled something, which Teresa was glad she couldn’t understand, and evidently walked away.

The rest of the exchange had been clearly audible, but thankfully, Michael had not paid any attention as he sang “Big Green Tractor” while he finished his business. Boot heels made soft, leathery sounds as a beautiful woman in her early thirties came slowly around the cinder block partition that formed a privacy barrier to the outer concourse. She was blonde and dressed in jeans, royal-blue western shirt, cowgirl hat, big silver buckle, and boots. When Teresa saw the blonde’s reflection in the large mirror, she realized the young woman had a numbered placate pinned to the back of her shirt. The barrel-racer girl.