Thrown: Studs in Spurs, Book 6 (11 page)

The bull hopped in the chute beneath him. Skeeter waited on the rails above until it settled down and then lowered himself onto the animal’s back. Everything around him turned to a blur of background noise as he concentrated on the feel of the bull under him.

The checklist hadn’t changed. Take his wrap, good and tight, center his weight, check his foot position and nod to the gateman.

“Get done and get out of the chute, kid. It’s easier to get yourself hurt in there than out in the arena.”

Cooper’s words still echoed in Skeeter’s head at times, even all these years later. Only this time the echo of Cooper’s advice brought to mind the broken man he was now, not the idol and role model he’d been to an impressionable young bull rider.

Skeeter shook the image from his head and said through the blockage of his mouthguard, “Go!”

The gate swung wide and the bull bolted into the arena. It stumbled, falling onto its haunches. Skeeter held tight, pulling his knees so his feet wouldn’t hit the dirt and absorbing the impact as the bull pushed off his hind legs and shot forward in a straight line.

Skeeter would have liked if the bull settled into a nice spin, preferably into his hand. Some good strong bucking to impress the judges would have been nice too, but it didn’t seem to be what this particular animal had in mind when he took Skeeter on a jolting ride around the arena.

He held on, knowing his score would suck, also knowing he needed a score and it had better be over seventy.

Finally, the animal got a clue as to what its job was, in part thanks to the bull fighters who surrounded him, blocking the path of its speed of light run and forcing it into a spin. Skeeter took advantage of it for the few seconds he had left to make this a halfway decent ride. He spurred like his life depended on it while adding some flair with his free arm, all in hopes of impressing the judges and pulling his score out of the crapper.

The buzzer sounded and he pulled the tail of his rope, releasing his hand. Flinging his leg over the bull, he leapt off on the outside of the spin. He landed on his feet in a near perfect dismount and ran for the rails.

Only then did the noise surrounding him seem to take on distinct sounds. The crowd cheered over the sound of the music blasting over the PA as the announcer’s amplified voice said, “Good ride for Skeeter Anderson.”

Whether the judges agreed had yet to be determined. From his perch above the arena, he blew out a breath and twisted to look at the scoreboard. Numbers flashed up on the board and then a total—seventy-seven-point-five. Not great, but good enough to win this thing, and that’s all that mattered.

“And Anderson keeps the lead to win the event.” The announcer confirmed Skeeter’s calculations.

With the bull finally herded out of the arena, he jumped down and headed across the dirt. His to-do list rattled through his brain as he took his rope from the bull fighter and thanked him. He pulled his helmet off as he reviewed what he needed to get done. Pack up his gear. Look up the address of Butch’s ranch. Program it into his GPS. Get on the road and call the guys with the news and his idea. He’d start with Aaron and have him help contact the other guys…

“Skeeter!”

He paused mid-step as he headed for his gear bag. “Yeah?”

“Dude, where you going? They need you in the arena.” The stock handler hooked a thumb toward the gate. “You know, for the presentation of the check and the buckle and all that.”

He could have slapped himself in the forehead for his stupidity. It either spoke to the fact it had been too damn long since he’d won an event, or to his need to get to Riley and make sure she was all right. Skeeter didn’t know which, but he had indeed forgotten. “Yeah, of course. Sorry. Little distracted today.”

The photographer took his pictures. Skeeter got his check and his buckle and yeah, it felt good, but his mind remained on later that day when he’d have to tell Riley he was sorry she’d lost her father and somehow convince her to let him and the guys help her out.

Once he was set and on the highway headed for the ranch, Skeeter pulled out his cell phone and hit the button to call Aaron.

“Skeets. Dude. How are ya? You ride this weekend?”

“Um, yeah, I did. Tupelo. And I heard some pretty bad news while I was there.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Aaron asked.

“Butch Davis had a heart attack.”

“No way. Is he okay?”

“No. Aaron, he’s dead.”

“Wow. That’s crazy. We just saw him. He looked fine.”

“Yeah, I know. But listen, I was thinking, this leaves Riley alone on the ranch.”

“She must have family. Or hired help. No?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m going to find out. I’m in Mississippi already so I’m going to swing by the Davis place and see how Riley’s doing.”

“I think you just want to see Riley.” The suggestion was clear in Aaron’s tone.

“Aaron. She’s grieving.”

“Perfect time.”

“Stop being a jerk.” Skeeter scowled. “We were all talking about bargaining labor at the ranch for time in the practice pen. Don’t you think this is the perfect time for that? When she could use the help most. While she’s getting over her dad’s death.”

“Yeah, I guess. Or maybe she just wants to be left alone.”

“Then I’ll find that out when I get there. But when I bring it up, I want to be able to tell her us guys are ready, if she wants help. The choice is hers. But I want a commitment from y’all before I bring it up.”

“All right. I’m in.
If
she wants us there.”

“Good. That makes two of us. Will you call Garret and Chase and ask them? I can call Mustang and ask him to get in touch with Slade.”

“Yeah, fine.”

Skeeter rolled his eyes as Aaron acted as if this was a big chore. He was probably meeting Garret for beers anyway. And he and Chase talked all the damn time. “Get back to me as soon as you can. Like in the next hour because I’m not far from her place.”

Aaron expelled a breath into the phone. “’kay. I’ll call you back.”

“Thanks.” He hit the button to disconnect with Aaron.

One call down. One more to go. Skeeter slowed to the speed limit and tried to keep one eye on the highway in front of him as he scrolled through his contact list to get to Mustang’s number.

The phone rang twice before Mustang answered.

Skeeter drew in a breath and launched into the explanation one more time, though repetition didn’t seem to make it any more believable. And if he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it had happened, how the hell must Riley feel?

Chapter Eight

“You brought a cake.” Riley put on the smile she’d perfected over the past few days and took the plate the neighbor handed her. “Thank you.”

“I thought you could use it today with all the people here after the service.”

“Definitely.” She let out a breath as she looked at the makeshift buffet already covered with food set up in the shade beneath the tree nearest the house.

Thank goodness, her hired hand had thought of making this table. It was nothing but a board resting on two sawhorses that she’d covered with a clean bed sheet, but it was doing the job it needed to do. She certainly didn’t own a table big enough for all this food, or have enough room for all these people inside the house.

Butch Davis was a popular guy. That much was evident. Stock contractors and ranchers had come from near and far on top of all the local townspeople and what looked like the entire congregation from church.

Maybe there were more boards somewhere and Bill could make another table. She could use more space if the food kept coming. Turning toward the house, she headed for the front door with the intention of getting another knife for the newly arrived cake. And more paper napkins if she could find some. They certainly didn’t have enough plates. Or forks for that matter. Napkins and fingers would have to do. She also needed to check on the lemonade and see if it needed to be replenished. Mrs. Porter had been a godsend bringing over the big drink dispenser from the church and a sleeve of plastic cups.

So much to do, but it was good. Keeping busy today was the only thing that kept her from breaking down like she’d done in the church during the service.

“Riley.”

She was concentrating on what she needed to do while she stared at the ground, but that voice brought her gaze up. The surprise was enough even to penetrate the numbness. “Skeeter. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I guess I should have called first. It’s rude to just show up.”

“No, don’t be silly. Thank you for coming.”

“I was riding in Tupelo when I heard what had happened.”

“That’s right. That event’s today. I got your text. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting a reply and you have too much else on your mind.” He glanced around at the crowd, all dressed in black. “I wish I could have gotten here earlier. I would have liked to have been at the service. I finished the short go and came right here. Well, that’s not exactly true. I tried to leave but they made me stay for the presentation of the check and the buckle.”

“You won? That’s great. Really great.” Her happiness for Skeeter seemed to break something inside her and tears filled her eyes again. She swiped them away. “Sorry.”

“Riley, don’t apologize. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now and if there’s anything I can do for you… That’s another reason I wanted to come, besides paying my respects to Butch, to make sure you were okay.”

Every kind word he spoke, every ounce of sympathy she saw in his expression and heard in his voice, whittled away a little more at her composure until she couldn’t see through the tears blurring her vision. She drew in a huge shaky breath.

The sweetest guy on earth, the one she’d had a crush on long before life as she knew it ended, and she was going to scare him away by breaking down. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

“Come on. Come with me.”

She felt more than saw him take her by the elbow and steer her inside. Past the women she heard chatting in the kitchen, all the way until she sensed the peace and quiet of her own bedroom. He fixed the door so it was closed enough to give her privacy but still open enough to be proper. He really was too good to be true.

“Sit down and take a deep breath. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No. Just a tissue. Please.” She could barely get the words out through the tightness in her throat.

“Sure.” He grabbed the box from next to the bed and handed the whole thing to her.

“Thanks.” She yanked one out and dabbed at her brimming eyes.

He squatted down in front of her. “If you wanna cry, cry. If you need to talk, I’ll listen. If you just want to sit here and be quiet, that’s fine.” He let out a short laugh. “And if you want to tell me to go away and leave you alone, I can do that too.”

“No. Don’t go.”

“All right.” He nodded and rose from where he’d been squatting. She felt the mattress move as he sat on the bed next to her. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.”

“Good.” She laughed, just when she wasn’t sure she was capable of it. “We have all that cake that needs eating.”

“I saw. No man can refuse cake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She was surprised as he reached out and took her hand, squeezing her fingers with his before he released her. The kindness brought on a fresh wave of tears. “Skeeter, you have to stop being so nice. It’s making me cry more.”

“Um, all right. I’ll try.”

She glanced up in time to see him cringe and had to laugh. “I don’t think you’re capable of not being nice.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I could try to cuss more or something.”

“Nah, that’s not gonna work.” Riley shook her head. They sat in silence for a few seconds as the weight of the past few days settled heavily in her chest. She raised her eyes to meet his sky-blue ones. “What am I going to do without him? How can I keep all of this without him?”

“Us guys came up with a plan. I wasn’t going to bring it up today, but I might be able to help. It’ll give you some time to get your bearings. And it’ll mean you won’t have to make any decisions for a little while.”

What he said was more than intriguing. What in the world could he be talking about? “What’s your plan?”

“You sure you want to talk about it now?”

“Yeah, I do.” Worry about the future of the ranch, both immediate and long term, had robbed Riley of her sleep for days. She could imagine what she looked like right about now.

Skeeter didn’t seem to mind. He focused on her eyes, not on the dark circles beneath them. “On the drive over here I called a few of the guys—Aaron, Mustang. They got in touch with Garret and Chase and Slade. We all agreed that since they’re all off for a while on mid-season break, and I’ll be riding close by for the touring pro events, why don’t we help you out around here?”

“What? You mean like work here?”

“Yeah. We came up with a kind of crazy idea at the last event, before—” He paused to swallow. “Anyway, we were talking about if maybe we could work out a trade. Barter ranch work for some time in the practice pen, if Butch, um, agreed.” Skeeter looked absolutely miserable.