A Man's Heart (27 page)

A couple of men broke and walked out to the field to get the animal. Before Jules could lose her nerve, they had the bull in the chute and a bull rope around his belly. Pulling on her gloves, Jules approached the corral, her stomach churning. The Terminator looked bigger and meaner than Black Devil had ever appeared. Perspiration dampened the back of her neck as the animal lunged, trying to go over the chute.

The young kid climbed the stall and faced her. “You sure you want to do this?”

Nodding, Jules focused on the heaving, agitated ton of flesh. She swallowed against a dry throat, jumping back when the animal lunged, trying to take out the stall, going crazy. She'd known men who met their death on the back of less bull. Would she meet hers?
Hold on, Sophie. I may be coming to join you.
“I'm sure.” Grasping the wall of the chute, she climbed up.

The kid reached and lifted her weight and settled her on the bull's back. The animal was wide as a four-lane highway.

Patrick's face swam before her. “It's not too late to back out.”

“I'm not backing out—but I want everyone's solemn oath that what happens here stays here.” All she needed was for Cruz to get wind of this. If the bull threw her, which undoubtedly it would, he would have a good laugh on her — if she survived, but if per chance she'd beat some of these guys' records, then she'd have a good laugh on them.

Patrick shook his head and pulled the bull rope up for her. “You can bet I won't mention it. Cruz isn't going to like this.”

The bull was restless, heaving sides bumping against the stall. Jules glanced at anxious faces. “Gentlemen? Do I have your word that you won't mention this to anyone?”

Several men nodded, and then the hold-outs agreed.

Jules tightened her grip on the cinch. “If you do, I'll tell the sheriff that you're gambling out here, not bull riding.”

Grumbles broke out.

“This is nuts. Get off that bull's back. You're going to get yourself killed.” A man spat a wad of tobacco.

“You guys just keep silent about this and we'll all be fine.” Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Open the gate.”

The gate swung wide and The Terminator shot out like a speeding freight. Jules's teeth chattered and crumbled into tiny pieces. A bomb went off in her head. The taste of salty blood filled her mouth.

The bull bucked, gyrated and twisted. She held tight, feeling her insides jar loose. A kidney dropped. Then her spleen hit her throat. She tried to let go of the rope but her hand was wound so tightly she was momentarily caught. She fought the animal and the cinch, trying to get loose. Up and down, back and forth, sideways. Finally the rope loosed and she jumped. When she hit the ground she landed on her right arm. She thought she heard the bone crack.

She lay staring at the swirling clouds both in her head and in the sky. Men ran out and diverted the bull away from her prone body. Laughter broke out.

“That's right. Gloat,” she muttered, wondering how in the world she was going to explain broken front teeth and a shattered right arm to any sane person.
Why couldn't you have just played along?

Patrick loomed above her, checking her for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“No, you look like—” He caught back salty language. “I better drive you over to the clinic.”

Jules struggled to sit up. “I'm fine. Other than my arm, I don't think I've broken anything but some teeth.”

He shook his head. “I warned you.”

“How long?”

“Three seconds.”

“Three!” She laid back, head reeling. “Man, it felt like hours.”

Crawling out of the truck, Jules limped to the back door. Crystal turned when she entered the kitchen. Her expression fell when she noted Jules's posture. “Holy cow.”

“No. Bull, The Terminator to be exact.” She limped to a chair and eased into it. “You have to get me to the clinic. I think I broke my right arm, shattered two front teeth—” She paused, jutting two front teeth out like Shrek —”Are they broken or cracked?”

Crystal moved closer to examine the injuries. “No — they all look intact.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Jules laid her head on the kitchen table. “I must have just broken my arm — and I jarred a kidney loose—and I think my spleen's in my throat.”

“What have you done?” Crystal wet a cloth and moved to help her.

“I rode The Terminator.”

“You
didn't!”

“Not really. It rode me, but I was on top three seconds.”

Her sister dabbed at bleeding spots on her face. “Why would you do anything so insane?”

Jules only had the strength to lift one shoulder. “Right now, I'm asking myself the same thing. I realized that I had no control over my life and I thought — never mind.” She glanced up. “I don't want Cruz to know anything about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Crystal. He thinks I'm ditsy enough. Please don't tell him, and warn Adan not to mention a word of this.”

“How will we explain your injuries?” Crystal gently eased her out of the chair. “And what about Patrick and the other men? They'll tell.”

“No they won't, or I'll tell on them.”

“Tell what?”

“I can't tell.”

Standing back, Crystal shook her head. “Your eye is turning black, you have cuts and bruises, your arm looks — sort of—limp. Everyone will know something happened.”

“We'll just say I took a fall.” And that was the honest truth. The Terminator was still King of the Hill; she'd grant him that title.

“A fall.”

“I took a hard fall. That's our story, and we're sticking to it.”

The two sisters dropped the curious children by the Ramseys on the way to the clinic. It was after hours, but the doctor was working late.

Jules's right arm was severely sprained but not broken. She had no idea what she'd heard snap, but it wasn't her bone. All of Jules's teeth were intact, and the doctor assured her that the spleen and kidneys didn't shift positions easily. In a day or two, other than being sore as an infected boil, she'd be back to normal.

On the way back to the farm, Jules dozed through the mercy of pain pills. Every bone in her body screamed. How could she have been so naïve to think that she could ride that bull? Why was she so stubborn?

And far more worrisome, why had she dared God to take her.

It seemed that she was learning a lot of unflattering things about herself these days, knowledge that she didn't necessarily want or like.

T
he church hall glowed Sunday evening for an informal reception honoring Crystal's magnanimous gift, which she insisted came directly from Lucille. The new Lucille Miller Recreation Hall and church kitchen would begin construction sometime late fall. Reverend Williams hosted the cake and punch affair after Sunday evening services.

Jules spotted Cruz in the crowd. He had a date tonight, a girl she didn't recognize. She looked young — years younger than Cruz, but she was about as pretty as they come. Pretty. Perky. Blonde. Clingy.

Frowning, she dabbed a couple of spoonfuls of guacamole dip on her paper plate with her left hand. “Who's the babe?”

Adan slapped cheese and ham in a dish. “What babe?”

“The girl Cruz is with.”

“Oh, Melody.” He speared a tomato slice. “Eye candy, huh. She models for some magazine.” He focused on her shiner. And arm sling. “Who won?”

“I took a hard fall.” Apparently the bull riders had kept their silence, not out of loyalty but fear that she'd rat them out to the sheriff.

“Out of what? A plane?”

“Something like that. Where's the babe from?” “New York.” He stabbed a pickle with his fork. “She's visiting her grandma in Pasco.”

“How does Cruz know her?”

“Hey, you'd have to ask him. I'm not my brother's keeper — at least not his social life keeper.” With a wink, he wandered off.

She was making small talk with one of the ladies in the congregation when Cruz approached the punch bowl.

Jules stepped away from her conversation when she spotted Cruz. She'd been toying with a nutty plan all day — even nuttier than riding The Terminator. Did she dare make the overt move? Right now they were on pretty solid ground, no fights lately. If she followed her heart instead of common sense she'd turn the children over to Cruz and Adan tonight and be done with it, but nobody had ever accused her of being an Einstein. She knew Cruz would attend the church reception in honor of Crystal. The idea she'd toyed around with all week festered. True, the scheme had been used more than once in crucial situations, and failed, but if it bore fruit, she'd be way ahead of her feelings and his obstinacy. She casually joined him at the refreshment line. He still favored his ribs, but he was getting out more these days.

Glancing up, he spotted her. He lifted an empty cup. “Want some punch?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He focused on her injuries. “What hit you?”

Her hand came up to touch the black and blue eye. “I took a fall.”

“Parachute didn't open? What about the arm?”

She gave him an exaggerated grin. “Funny. I sprained my arm during the fall.”

He dipped a couple of cups out of the bowl and handed her one. His gaze skimmed the large gathering. “The town's real appreciative of Crystal and your gift.”

“The money isn't mine to give, but Crystal insists on putting the tithe in my name too.”

“That's a nice, sisterly thing to do.”

It was very nice, and Jules didn't know how to repay the generous and thoughtful gesture.

Drawing a deep breath, she asked what she'd come to ask. “I … was wondering if you were free tomorrow night.”

A dark brow lifted. “I guess so. Why?”

“I'd like to talk to you in private. Would you have dinner with me?”

Before he could deny the request, she added, “Nothing formal, just grab a sandwich at The Grille and discuss … the topic.”

“What topic?”

“What I want to discuss.”

He considered the offer, and then said quietly, “What time?”

“Around seven?”

Lifting the cup, he took a swallow and then set the drink down. “Okay. Seven.”

“Okay.”

“Jules.”

“Yes?”

“I don't know if I've thanked you properly for saving that field. You kept me from bankruptcy.”

Color tinged her cheeks. “We'll call it even, okay? You
saved my life in the accident, I helped save a field. Doesn't seem like a fair exchange, but I'm happy if you are.”

He nodded. “Did you break anything?”

“Break anything?”

His gaze focused on the arm sling. “During the fall. You should be more careful. We've had about all the loss this community can stand.”

She nodded. Did he know about the bull ride?

“Look at me, Jules.”

She raised her eyes. “I'm not kidding. No more crazy chances. We'll get through Sophie and Pop's death. Understand?”

“Understood.”

His tone softened. “You've hit a streak of bad luck. The truck accident and now a fall. You must not be living right.”

She smiled. “Must not.”

“Well — my date will think I deserted her. Tomorrow night?”

“I'll be there.”

Releasing her breath, she melted into the crowd. Tomorrow night. Seven.

She had an official date with Cruz.

And whether he knew or simply guessed the nature of her injuries, he cared. That was enough to make her vow to be more careful.