And a Smile (Roughstock #2)

Prologue

Coke rolled his shoulders, shifting his weight from leg to leg, bouncing.

He liked Phoenix; it was hotter than the hinges of hell, but he was a Texas baby, born and bred, and there was something about them dark mountains in the distance. He wasn’t sure he could live out here, but…

Wally’s shoulders went tight when he pulled the rope, the gate swinging open, and Ghostrider came whirling out, Danny’s boy, Jason Scott, sticking like Super Glue.

Lord have mercy, that kid rode with pure balance, no strength required.

Jase was going to win the world one day.

Coke knew it. He’d known it since Jason’s first ride.

Counting in his head—six, seven, eight—he nodded and moved into place as the whistle blew. “Come on, Jase!”

The bull turned left instead of right, and suddenly he found himself behind those kicking hooves instead of near the shoulder where he’d planned to be. He dug in, hollering for Nate to come on, move. Go.

He hadn’t finished his first steps before Jason’s legs swung around, the sound of Jason’s head hitting Ghostrider’s horn like a crack of lightning.

“Ghostrider! Here! Here!”

No.

Not Jason. Not Danny’s boy.

He ran, pushing his body between the bull and Jason and Andy Baxter, who was right there. Staring.

Silent.

Please, Jesus. Please, no.

Not Jason.