No Ordinary Cowboy (Mills & Boon American Romance) (Rodeo Rebels - Book 6) (2 page)

The chute door opened and the reddish-brown bull jumped into the arena. Tony struggled to maintain his balance, his right arm flailing in the air, snapping back and forth as if connected to his body by a rubber band. Swagger kicked sideways and Tony slid off balance but managed to right himself before the next buck. Lucy counted the seconds in her head. Four…five…six—
Shoot!

Tony catapulted over the bull’s head and she flinched when he landed on his right shoulder and bounced across the dirt. The bullfighter waved his arms, attempting to distract Swagger, but the bull wasn’t finished
swaggering.
As Tony struggled to his feet, the animal charged. Tony dove to his right, barely avoiding a collision. Lucy expelled the breath she’d been holding in a loud gasp when Swagger trotted out of the arena.

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Tony Bravo gave his best effort but Swagger keeps his bragging rights. Better luck next time, cowboy.”

Lucy headed for the parking lot. Now that she’d asked Shannon to find rodeos for her to ride in, she’d better show the cowgirl that she meant business. First on her agenda—find a mechanical bull to practice on.

Lucy’s father had purchased her brother a high-tech bucking machine that he and Tony had trained on in the barn at the Durango Ranch. On a few occasions during high school, Lucy had hidden in the hayloft and spied on the boys. Sweat had stung her eyes and hay dust had filled her lungs, but the discomfort had been worth it when Tony removed his shirt and she’d gotten an eyeful of his rippling muscles.

After Michael died, her father had instructed Pete, the ranch foreman, to get rid of the bucking machine. One day while Lucy was in Yuma running errands, she’d driven past Tony’s pickup on Main Street and noticed the equipment in the truck bed. She wondered if Tony still had the machine. If he did—could she convince him to allow her to use it?

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
, Lucy still hadn’t heard from Shannon, but she’d moved forward with her fundraising plans, hoping Wrangler would eventually agree to promote her cause. She’d spent the morning in her small office in the barn, working on her company website. She’d added a PayPal form and a pledge counter so visitors would see how close she was to reaching her goal of $20,000. Once she knew for certain that she’d be competing in the rodeos, she’d upload the new pages.

Nothing left to do but wait until Shannon contacted her; Lucy decided to head into Stagecoach for a root beer at Vern’s Drive-In. She wished one of her girlfriends from college lived nearby, but after graduation they’d taken various jobs across the country, and Lucy had returned to Stagecoach. Before her brother had passed away, she’d dreamed of working in Chicago and renting an apartment near Michigan Avenue. She’d wanted to experience living somewhere other than the hot, dry desert.

The drive-in was deserted when Lucy arrived, but once the sun set the place would be hopping with teenagers. She left her truck running and walked up to the order window. Vern’s daughter, Sherry, had taken over the business years ago when her father retired to Palm Springs.

“Howdy, Lucy. What can I get for you?”

“A large root beer, please.”

“You want a frosty mug or a to-go cup?”

“To-go.”

“Comin’ right up.” Sherry disappeared for a moment before returning with the drink.

Lucy handed over two dollars then tossed her change into the tip jar. “Thanks, Sherry.”

“Sure thing. See you next time.”

Back inside her truck, Lucy angled the air vents toward her face and guzzled her drink. Once she’d quenched her thirst, she backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. The drive between the ranch and Stagecoach was nothing less than boring—rocky brown landscape dotted with green cactus. Mesmerized by the wavy heat lines radiating off the pavement, Lucy slammed on the brakes when an animal shot across the road in front of the truck.

“Maddie!”
Blast that dog.
The purebred boxer charged across the desert. Lucy pulled off the road and turned on the truck’s flashers. She rummaged through the glove compartment until she found the whistle, then got out of the truck and blew hard.

The brown speck in the distance skidded to a stop. A stare-down ensued.

“Come back, Maddie. It’s too dang hot to chase you.”

The seven-year-old boxer had been a shadow of her old self since Michael died. No one had witnessed the accident, but everyone assumed Maddie had been riding in the bed and was thrown clear when Michael’s truck flipped and landed in the ditch. Not long after, Maddie had found her way back to the ranch and barked nonstop until she’d woken the family.

Lucy blew the whistle again. Maddie trotted forward then stopped and sat.
What kind of game are you playing, girl?

Michael had come across the dog walking along a deserted highway on the outskirts of Flagstaff, and the pair had been inseparable until his death. Maddie had begun running away a month after Michael was cremated. At one point, Lucy and her mother had searched for days. Finally, when they’d driven past the site of the crash, they’d discovered the dog waiting in the hot sun for her master to return.

After that incident, her mother had insisted Maddie be put down, but Lucy had refused to allow her parents to euthanize Michael’s dog. Instead, she’d suggested they build an outdoor kennel and keep Maddie penned in. The darn dog must have dug her way to freedom.

A horn blast startled Maddie, and she took off like a jackrabbit, disappearing behind a thicket of scrub brush. Lucy shielded her eyes from the sun as a black truck drew closer and parked behind her vehicle. Tony Bravo.

* * *

L
UCY
HAD
BEEN
BACK
from college for two years, and he’d managed to avoid any direct contact with her until she’d plowed into him at the Yuma rodeo. Now here they were, running into each other twice in one week.

“Car trouble?” Tony strode toward Lucy, grateful his mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes from view as he looked her over. Seeing Lucy up close in her tight jeans, sassy boots and formfitting T-shirt reminded him of the nights he’d stripped her clothes off in a motel room and they’d both been caught off guard by the explosive passion between them. Their series of one-night stands, strung together over the course of five months, had ended abruptly. After letting Michael down in the worst possible way, Tony hadn’t deserved to be happy, and because he hadn’t had the guts to tell Lucy the truth about the night her brother had died, he’d walked away from her without a word of explanation.

“Maddie ran off,” she said.

He scanned the horizon, realizing he hadn’t seen the dog since Michael’s funeral, when she’d sat beneath the tree across the street from the church. The memory of that afternoon flashed through Tony’s mind, but he slammed the door shut before the images came into focus.

“Will she come back?” he asked.

“Eventually.” Lucy didn’t sound confident.

Tony returned to his truck and grabbed the gallon of water he stored for emergencies and an empty fast-food salad bowl from yesterday’s lunch. He filled the bowl with water then placed it on the ground near Lucy’s feet. “If she comes back, she’ll have water to drink.”

“Thanks.” Lucy walked several yards away and blew the whistle. “It’s been over six months since her last break for freedom.”

Tony wasn’t surprised Maddie had run to the place Michael had crashed his truck. Dogs were intuitive animals, and Maddie’s internal clock had alerted her to the importance of tomorrow’s date—the second anniversary of Michael’s death. The sun had faded the white wooden cross Lucy had placed in the rocky ground after the accident. Michael’s name was barely discernible. Tony’s chest tightened when he recalled his last conversation—rather argument—with his best friend. Tony wanted a do-over of that night so damned bad. “Maddie’s how old?”

“Seven.”

Tony studied Lucy’s face. Her cheekbones were sharper than he remembered, making her blue eyes appear larger beneath the light brown lashes. She’d pulled her curly blond hair into a ponytail, and the little makeup she wore revealed a flawless complexion. He squeezed his hands into fists to keep from dragging a finger down her cheek to test the softness of her skin.

“Interesting uniform hat.” Lucy pointed to his head.

Grinning, he tugged the brim of his Stetson. “I’m a cowboy first, then a border patrol agent.”

Lucy laughed, the gesture showing off the tiny dimples in her cheeks. “Guess I’ll head home. Hopefully Maddie will turn up tonight.”

“I’ll spread the word to my coworkers to be on the lookout for her when they’re driving in the area.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

He watched Lucy get into her truck and drive off. Once the vehicle disappeared from sight he turned and spotted Maddie trotting through the desert in his direction. The sly dog had waited for Lucy to leave. Maddie stopped at the water bowl and drank it dry.

“Long time no see, girl.”

The dog lifted her head, water dribbling from her jowls.

Tony dropped to one knee and Maddie bounded closer, putting her paws on his legs and licking his face. “Guess I’ll have to take you home.” He grabbed the plastic bowl and opened the truck door. The dog jumped inside and sat in the passenger seat. After Tony started the truck, Maddie sniffed the air vents, then relaxed, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she panted.

Tony steeled himself against the ache in his heart when he scratched the boxer behind the ears. Maddie pressed her head into his hand and he rubbed harder. “I’ve missed you, girl. We had some good times with Michael, didn’t we?” The dog had traveled everywhere with Michael, and Tony had been in awe of their powerful bond.

“I miss him, Maddie. More than you know.”

The dog lay down on the seat and rested her head on Tony’s thigh. His throat tightened at the affectionate gesture. He shifted the truck into Drive and sped down the road. Tony had planned to speak with Cal Durango about a human-trafficking ring in the area, but had hoped to have more evidence before he asked the ranch owner for access to his property. Thanks to Maddie, Tony would be confronting Lucy’s father sooner rather than later.

Chapter Two

“You know he hates me, don’t you?” Maddie’s alert brown eyes shone with sympathy. Tony strangled the steering wheel as he drove along the highway on the outskirts of Stagecoach. He wasn’t looking forward to facing Cal Durango. The man blamed him for his son’s death and he had a right to.

Not a day passed that Tony didn’t regret leaving the bar after Michael had assured him he’d find a ride home if he drank too much. If Tony could travel back in time, he’d have stayed until Michael had finished celebrating, or he’d have coaxed him out of the bar before he’d had one too many beers.

He turned down the road leading to the Durango ranch house and passed beneath a stone archway with the iron letters
DR
at the top. A mile later, he parked in front of the sprawling hacienda with the covered front porch that ran the entire length of the home. The house sat in the shadows of a rocky incline that blocked the wind and provided shade from the afternoon sun. The yard had been landscaped with palm trees and colorful vegetation reminiscent of a California resort, not the Sonoran Desert.

Tony stepped down from his truck. “Get the hell off my ranch, Bravo.” Cal Durango sat on the front porch, smoking one of his expensive Cuban cigars.

“Be happy to hit the road as soon as I unload this cargo.” Tony snapped his fingers. “Come on, Maddie.”

The stubborn boxer wouldn’t budge.

Tony reached for her collar, but Maddie scrambled into the backseat.

“Damn dog’s a nuisance. Should have put her down long ago.” Durango acted tough as nails, but Tony knew the death of his son had cut him off at the knees and he was a broken man on the inside.

“Got a leash?” Tony asked.

“Here’s one.” Lucy stepped out the front door. Had she been eavesdropping? She skipped down the steps and clipped a tether to Maddie’s collar. “Naughty girl.” Lucy tugged the dog from the truck. “She must have come back after I left.”

“Left where?” Lucy’s father stood on the top step and glanced suspiciously between Tony and his daughter.

“Maddie misses you, Tony,” Lucy said, ignoring her father’s question.

“Enough about the damned dog. Get off my ranch, Bravo.”

“I’d like a word with you first.” Tony moved closer to the porch.

“A word about what?”

“We believe—” Tony had yet to convince his boss of his hunch “—that underage girls are being kidnapped and brought over the border then sold into the sex trade in the Midwest.”

“How awful,” Lucy said.

Durango chomped on his cigar. “And this concerns me how?”

“We suspect members of a Mexican cartel are crossing into the United States between the San Luis and Lukeville ports of entry then making their way north through Stagecoach.” Tony paused for a moment to allow the information to sink in. “We have reason to believe the men are using your ranch as a shortcut through the area.”

“You got any proof of that?” Durango puffed on his cigar.

“Witness reports spotting young females walking on your property along highway 41.”

“Reliable witnesses, or illegals you didn’t catch at the border?” Durango asked.

“Reliable witnesses. I’d like to take a look around your place.”

“Have your boss call me. I’ll consider giving him access, but not you.”

“Dad!” Miffed at her father’s rude behavior, Lucy spoke to Tony. “Thank you for bringing Maddie home.”

Tony flashed a half smile and her pulse fluttered with yearning, just as it had each morning he’d kissed her goodbye after each of their motel rendezvous. They’d kept their affair a secret because Tony’s mother had been old-fashioned and expected her son to marry a Hispanic girl. Of course, Lucy’s father wouldn’t have approved of Tony, because he hadn’t come from a wealthy, prestigious family. They’d also worried that their parents’ objections to their relationship would distract Michael from his quest for a national title.

Each time she and Tony had seen each other, they’d fallen more and more in love, and the strain of keeping their affair a secret had worn them down. Finally they’d decided to tell their parents during Lucy’s spring break in April, after Tony and Michael returned from the rodeo in Prescott. But Michael had died that night, and Tony had refused to see Lucy or take her calls. He’d broken her heart when she’d needed him most.

Shoving the memories aside, Lucy blamed her sudden queasiness on the fact that tomorrow was the anniversary of her brother’s death, and although she’d tried to avoid thinking about it, the pain was a constant presence in her heart. If she knew what was good for her, she’d also keep her feelings for Tony locked away and focus on her fundraiser.

After the taillights of Tony’s truck disappeared, she said, “Dad, don’t make it difficult for the border patrol to do their job.”

Her father stared unseeingly into space.

“If illegals are cutting across the ranch, what’s going to stop them from coming up to the house and robbing us, or worse?” Lucy said.

“Bravo’s making a big deal out of nothing, because he’s looking out for himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He requested a transfer to the border patrol office in San Diego.”

“How do you—”
Never mind.
Her father had eyes and ears all over the state.

“He needs credit for cracking a big case in order to get his transfer.”

“You don’t believe Tony deserves the promotion, do you?”

Her father retreated inside the house, the smack of the screen door answering Lucy’s question.

When would he stop blaming Tony for Michael’s death?

When you tell him the truth.

Lucy’s eyes burned with tears. She’d hoped the Pony Express would make up for her grave blunder the night Michael had died, but maybe she was fooling herself—there were some things in life one couldn’t make amends for.

“Back to the kennel for you, girl.” Lucy put Maddie in the outdoor cage and secured the lock. On the way to the office in the barn, she silently cursed. She’d forgotten to ask Tony if he still had her brother’s bucking machine. Now that she thought about it, she’d wait to ask him until she heard back from Shannon about the rodeos. No sense stirring up trouble until she knew for sure that she’d be riding a real-life bull.

* * *

“H
EY
, M
OM
,
IT
’
S
ME
,” Tony called out as he entered his mother’s trailer.

“In the kitchen!”

He found her sliding a cake pan into the oven.

“You’re late.” She closed the oven door.

“Sorry.” Tony hugged her. “I should have called.” But he’d been too agitated, his mind a jumble of tangled thoughts after running into Lucy along the highway then dealing with a stubborn dog and a mulish Cal Durango.

“Problems at work?”

In his line of duty there were always problems. “No.” He watched his mother dish out the chicken pot pie she’d made for their once-a-week supper together. “I ran into Lucy Durango today.”

“Oh?”

“Maddie took off and Lucy was out searching for her.”

“Did you find the dog?” His mother set their plates on the table and sat down.

“Yeah.” He omitted the part where Maddie had waited for Lucy to leave before approaching Tony. His mother would insist the dog missed Tony and that he should visit Maddie once in a while—as if Lucy’s father would allow him near the dog, never mind his daughter.

“Mr. Bonner lost his cat last week—flattened by a semitruck.”

“Nice visual before we eat,” Tony said.

“Sorry. No more animal talk at the table.”

Tony would be lying if he didn’t admit that he missed Maddie and all the dog represented—a friendship with Michael that had begun with an I-dare-you game on a school playground and had evolved into a brotherly bond. Tony had lost a part of himself when his best friend died, and Maddie brought to the surface all the pain buried inside him.

“How did you do at the rodeo last weekend?” His mother’s brown eyes twinkled as they roamed over Tony. “You’re not sporting a cast or bandages.”

“I got thrown.” Tony was twenty-seven, but some days he felt like an old man. He used to be a decent bull rider before he’d begun working for the border patrol. Now he was lucky if he lasted eight seconds on the back of a bull in one out of ten rodeos. He should retire his spurs, but he was reluctant to give up those few hours a month when he could keep his memory of Michael alive.

“Any news on the transfer?” his mother asked.

“Not yet.” Six months ago, after two years of pretending he’d moved on from Michael’s death and his affair with Lucy, he’d finally admitted that he wouldn’t be able to put the past behind him until he left Stagecoach.

“The cost of living is much higher in California.”

His mother was not in favor of her only child leaving town. Tony would miss his mom, but San Diego wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t make a monthly trip to Stagecoach. “You could relocate to America’s Finest City with me.”

“I’m comfortable at my job, honey. I don’t want to start at the bottom of the waitress ladder.”

“I bet Juan would move with you.” His mother and the grill cook at the truck stop had been dating for several years but his mother wasn’t interested in tying the knot—her heart still belonged to Tony’s father.

“You haven’t said how Lucy’s doing.” His mother quirked an eyebrow.

“She’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Actually, Lucy was more than fine. After two years of catching only glimpses of her from a distance, seeing her up close at the rodeo had stolen his breath. Her smile had reminded him that he’d lost more than his best friend because of a stupid lapse in judgment. He’d also lost the girl who’d captured his heart. Tony shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Lucy was at the rodeo last weekend.”

“Really?”

He had been more than a little surprised he’d bumped into her in the cowboy ready area. After Michael died, the Durangos quit attending rodeos, while Tony continued to ride, wanting to hold on to the one thing that had been a huge part of his friend’s life.

“I noticed the Pony Express van parked in front of Gilley’s Tap House the other night.”

Never in a million years had Tony believed Lucy would start up her own business in Stagecoach. No one talked about it—at least not out loud—but it didn’t take a genius to understand that the free taxi service was Lucy’s way of honoring her brother’s memory. The van served as a solemn reminder of how Tony had failed his best friend.

“You’re awfully quiet,” his mother said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Still no leads on the Mexican gang smuggling girls across the border?”

“No.” But he was positive that if border patrol agents staked out the Durango Ranch, they’d catch the bastards transporting their human cargo through the desert.

“I hope you get a break in the case soon.” His mother pointed to Tony’s plate. “Do you have room for seconds?”

“No, thanks.” He carried his plate to the sink. “I’ll tighten the bathroom faucet before I leave.”

“You’re not staying?”

Unless he received an emergency call from work, Tony watched TV with his mother for an hour or two after supper. Approaching the anniversary of his best friend’s death, he wouldn’t be good company, so he fibbed. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on.”

“I made the cake for you.”

“Juan will appreciate your chocolate cake.”

“He’s on a diet.” Juan was a big man who made no apologies for his big appetite.

While his mother cleared the table and washed the dishes, Tony went outside and unlocked the storage shed. His father’s tool kit sat on the ground inside the door. A half hour later, Tony had fixed the bathroom faucet, oiled a squeaky doorjamb and loosened the sticky window at the front of the trailer. Then he kissed his mother goodbye and headed to Yuma.

He’d only driven a few miles when he found himself parked in front of the Saguaro Cactus Lounge, staring at the blinking Budweiser sign in the window. Some days, life called for a beer.

Today was one of them.

* * *

“D
ON
’
T
WORRY
, H
ECTOR
.
You stay home tonight and feel better. I’ll be out soon to pick up the van.” Lucy disconnected the call.

Poor Hector. One of his granddaughters was taking a culinary class in Yuma and had cooked a chicken sausage seafood gumbo for the family. Hector had barely made it back home before being hit with food poisoning.

Lucy left her office in the barn and returned to the house for her purse. Dinner would be on the run tonight.

“Where are you off to?” her mother called out.

Lucy put the brakes on outside the sun room where her mother sat reading. “Hector’s not feeling well. I’ll be handling the calls for the Pony Express tonight.”

The lines bracketing her mother’s mouth deepened, but she refrained from voicing her disapproval. “Call when you get to Hector’s.”

Lucy swallowed a sharp retort and left the house. A twenty-four-year-old shouldn’t have to report in to her mother, but Michael’s death had changed the family dynamic in more ways than size. Sonja Durango wanted to know every move her daughter made. Full of guilt, Lucy had been happy to keep her mother informed of her whereabouts, believing it would only be a matter of time before she got over her fear of something happening to Lucy. But months turned into a year, and now two, and still her mother hadn’t eased up on monitoring Lucy’s activities.

The drive to Hector’s took twenty minutes. He lived in the foreman’s cabin on the Ace of Spades Ranch, west of Stagecoach. Bill Gunderson no longer ran cattle on his land now that he and his wife spent half the year on the East Coast with their son’s family. In exchange for watching over the property, Hector lived there rent-free.

When she pulled up to the cabin, Hector’s mongrel dog emerged from his underground den beneath the porch. “Hey, Blue. It’s Lucy.” Holding out her hand, she approached the chained dog cautiously. Blue sniffed then wagged his tail. “You remember me, don’t you?”