2. Colt
Chapter 2
Colt
D riving back into my hometown of Sagebrush wasn’t exactly the future I’d envisioned for myself. I didn’t hate it by any means, it just wasn’t where I wanted to be. However, I didn’t have much of a choice. Caroline Baker was counting on me to help her get her little rodeo academy started and I was the main event for the summer. And if there was one thing I liked, it was being in the spotlight.
Teaching, however, had never been on my list of career choices. When I became a professional bull rider, I intended on retiring out of it by the time I was thirty, rich and ready to settle down in Amarillo. Instead, I was twenty-eight, with more broken bones notched into my belt than I could count. I’d won my fair share, making a name for myself as one of the best riders in the region. But all that prize money was spent putting my dumb ass back together so I could get back on those bulls.
So, I wasn’t in the habit of turning down work, especially when it paid well, came with free lodging, and meant I could take some time to let my body heal. Plus, it made me look like a good samaritan, teaching the younger generation at all. They didn’t need to know that I still hadn’t recovered fully from my last bad fall. Or that one more might mean a wheelchair for the rest of my life.
As I pulled up to the Baker ranch, I couldn't help but smile at the familiar sight. The old wooden fence, weathered by years of Texas sun and wind, still stood strong. The sprawling pastures were dotted with grazing cattle, their lazy moos carried on the breeze.
Caroline was waiting for me on the porch, her long, dark braid swinging as she bounded down the steps. She hadn't changed a bit since high school–still all fire and determination wrapped up in a petite package.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” she drawled, a smirk playing on her lips. “Thought you might've changed your mind and high-tailed it back to the big city.”
I chuckled, climbing out of my truck with a wince. My latest rodeo souvenir–a cracked rib–was still healing. “And miss out on all this fun you're havin’?” I shot back. “Never!”
She jogged down the porch, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. I did my best not to let her know how much it hurt, hugging her back just as tightly. She and I had been thick as thieves in high school and while she’d visited plenty of times, it was good to see her again.
Caroline pulled back, her sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. “You're looking a little worse for wear there, cowboy. That last ride must've been a doozy.”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Nothing I can't handle. You know me, I bounce back quick.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Well, don't you worry. We'll have you back in fighting shape in no time. Logan's been working on setting up the practice arena. You remember my brother, right?”
“'Course I do. How could I forget ol' Logan?” I grinned, remembering the lanky kid who used to trail after us, always trying to keep up. “How’s he doin’?”
“Real good,” she smiled. “Caught himself one hell of a man, too.”
“So you’ve mentioned.”
“You should do that too, you know?” she said, giving me a nudge. “Get yourself a man and settle down before you kill yourself in that arena.”
“I’m good, thanks.” I always had to deflect her on that subject. She’d been trying to get me to settle down since we were seniors in high school. “You know me, I don’t want someone at home worryin’ about me or tellin’ me what I can and can’t do. I’m a lone wolf, remember?”
I tipped my head back, giving a short howl just to mess with her.
“Sure thing, lone wolf,” she sighed. “That’s what they all say until the right one comes along. Logan used to be the same way.”
As if on cue, a tall figure emerged from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. Logan had filled out since I'd last seen him, no longer the lanky kid I remembered. He'd grown into his height, broad shoulders and tanned arms hinting at the hard work he put in on the ranch. His sandy brown hair was cropped short, and those familiar green eyes lit up with recognition as he spotted me.
“Well, I'll be damned,” he called out, striding over with a grin. “Colt Dawson, back in Sagebrush. Caroline said you were coming, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.” He extended a hand to shake. “My god… you look like you were sculpted out of marble.”
I chuckled, shaking his hand. “Good to see you too, Logan. And thanks for the mighty fine compliment.” I pulled my hand back, flexing my chest so it pulled my shirt buttons taut. “Gotta keep in shape for the rodeo.”
He was still gawking. “Christ… I guess so.”
Back in school, his comment might’ve made me uncomfortable. But I’d come to love the crowds, their cheers, and the way they fawned over me. I wasn’t called ‘Handsome Colt’ for no reason, after all.
“So, I hear you’re helping Caroline with this rodeo school of hers?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, shaking his head. “Dakota and I have been working with our investor to get it all ready.” He gestured to his sister. “This one's got big dreams, and she won't let anyone stand in her way.”
Caroline beamed with pride. “You bet your ass I won't. This rodeo school is gonna put Sagebrush on the map. Soon my name will be plastered all over the rodeo arenas as the best teacher in the state, just you watch.”
I nodded, impressed by her determination. “Well, I'm here to help however I can. Though I gotta warn ya, I've never really taught before.”
“Don't you worry about that,” Caroline said, waving a hand dismissively. “These kids'll be so star-struck just seein' you, they'll soak up every word you say like a sponge. Now come on, let's get you settled in.”
I expected we’d head toward the house. However, Caroline led me around it instead and out back. Just ahead of us was the barn. Off to the left, where one of the small pastures used to be, was a large arena with a building and a small set of stands on one side. It wasn’t huge, not like the rodeo arenas I did down in Dallas, but it would’ve comfortably sat half of Sagebrush. Either way, it was a lot more than I’d expected.
“House is pretty full right now,” Caroline said, leading me toward the stands. “But we built a small bank of four apartments into the grandstands. It’s not much, but it’ll help us house any visiting teachers or exhibitors who need a place to stay during longer training sessions.”
I whistled, impressed. “You weren't kidding about going all out, were you?”
Caroline grinned, a hint of pride in her eyes. “Nope. Go big or go home, that's what I always say. Besides, our investor, Dustin, is really excited. He’s very into the cowboy thing.” She glanced back, giving me a wink. “Probably because he’s so bad at being one himself.”
“You said he lives here now?”
“Yep. He’s got a tiny house out back. Can’t even see it from here.” She shrugged. “Pretty generous guy. Just quiet.”
As we approached the stands, I noticed a figure emerging from one of the apartment doors. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to catch the sunlight. There was something about the way he moved - confident yet graceful - that made it hard to look away.
“Hey, Dakota!” Caroline called out. “Come meet our star instructor!”
The man - Dakota, I presumed - jogged over to us, a warm smile on his face. “So, this is the famous Colt Dawson,” he said, extending his hand. “I've heard a lot about you.”
I shook his hand, smiling brightly. “And I’ve heard about you, too. You and Logan, huh?”
Dakota nodded. “Yep. Happy as can be.”
“I thought for sure Caroline would snag you eventually.”
A hand shot out, swatting me on the shoulder. Dakota and I just laughed, seeing the frustrated look in her eyes.
“She tried,” he said. “But I’m afraid she’s just not my type.”
“Same.”
“Yes, yes,” she huffed, giving Dakota a push to get him to leave. “I’m surrounded by gorgeous gay men that want nothing to do with me. How lucky.”
“See you around!” Dakota called, heading back toward the house.
“Goddamn,” I whispered to Caroline. “Is every guy in Sagebrush that pretty?”
She just rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw the men that I matched with online.” There was a long sigh and then she waved me in. “Come on. Let me show you the apartment.”
I followed Caroline into the apartment, impressed by the efficient use of space. It was small but cozy, with a kitchenette, a living area, and a separate bedroom. The decor had a rustic charm that felt quintessentially Texan.
“Not bad at all,” I said, dropping my duffel bag on the bed. “This'll do just fine.”
Caroline leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Glad you approve. Now, about your teaching schedule-”
A sharp pain shot through my side as I bent to unzip my bag. I couldn't hide the wince this time.
Caroline's eyes narrowed. “Colt Dawson, you better not be hiding another injury from me.”
I straightened up slowly, forcing a grin. “Just a little sore from the drive, darlin'. Nothing to worry about.”
She wasn't buying it. “What did you do this time? Didn’t the doctor tell you to give it a fucking break for a bit? You already had to have your back screwed back together! When are you gonna?—”
“Caroline,” I said, stopping her before she could mother me more. “I’m fine. I promise. So, tell me about my teaching schedule.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she knew it was no use arguing with me. I was as stubborn as they came and proud of it. She called it annoying, but it was what helped me become the bull rider everyone knew and loved. Even when that bull threw me, I had to pick myself up and do it again. That’s how it went. The day I stopped doing that was the day I had to find a new life to live.
Caroline sighed, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. We'll start you off easy. Three days a week, two-hour sessions with the beginners. You'll be teaching them the basics - proper form, safety protocols, that kinda thing. Then we'll see how you handle it before throwing you to the more advanced students.”
I nodded, relieved she wasn't pushing me too hard right off the bat. “Sounds good to me. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow morning, 9 AM sharp. Don't be late, cowboy.” She gave me a pointed look. “And for the love of God, take it easy tonight. No wild celebrations at the Rusty Spur or mechanical bulls at a cheap bar. I need you in one piece.”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Yes ma'am. I'll be a perfect gentleman.”
Caroline snorted. “That'll be the day.”
She left me to settle in, and I took a moment to catch my breath. The pain in my side was more intense than I wanted to admit, but I'd be damned if I let it show. I was Colt Dawson, the indestructible bull rider. A little cracked rib wasn't going to slow me down.
I unpacked my few belongings, hanging up my prized rodeo jacket and placing my well-worn boots by the door. As I was about to flop down on the bed for a much-needed rest, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called, expecting Caroline with more instructions.
Instead, a man I didn't recognize stepped inside. He was strikingly handsome, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. His clothes were a bit too crisp and clean for ranch life. And the suede cowboy had on his head looked like it had never touched dirt in its life. The moment I saw him, I knew who he must be.
“You’re the investor,” I said, getting back to my feet.
“D-Dustin Corvus,” he said, staring at me, his eyes wide.
“I’m—”
“Colt Dawson,” he said, finishing my sentence. “You’re the best bull rider in Texas! Maybe in the entire western region!”
I felt my pride swell. He was right, of course, but folks liked a humble man. “Well, I don’t know about all that…”
But Dustin was already shaking his head emphatically. “No, it's true! I've watched all your rides. The way you handle those bulls - it's like poetry in motion.” His eyes lit up with genuine admiration. “That championship ride on Thunderbolt last year? Absolutely incredible.”
I couldn't help but preen a little under his praise. It wasn't often I met a fan who could recall specific rides. “You really know your stuff, huh?”
Dustin's cheeks flushed slightly. “I, uh, may have become a bit of a rodeo enthusiast since moving here.” He glanced around the apartment, seeming a bit nervous. “I just wanted to welcome you personally. Your presence here means a lot to the program.”
“Well, I appreciate that.”
“And… uh…” He reached up, pulling off his hat and held it out to me. “Would… Would you…”
“Autograph your hat?” I offered, having signed hundreds of hats during my career.
“Y-Yeah.”
I took it from him, turning it over. It was lined with white silk on the inside, and it was pristine.
“You sure?” I chuckled. “This looks like an expensive hat.”
He nodded vigorously. “I’m sure.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a black sharpie. “Please. It would be an honor.”
I chuckled, taking the marker from him. Flipping the hat over, I signed the underside of the brim where it would be safe from the sun. The entire time, Dustin stood there, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. I couldn’t help but puff up a bit, loving the attention.
Maybe coming back to Sagebrush wasn’t so bad after all.