Chapter Three
W atching Peyton Halliday noisily stomp her way up the stairs to the chute catwalk with a whole lot of attitude packed into a curvy little package, Drew realized his mistake three stomps too late.
Growing up with his sister Caitlin and her best friend Amanda should have taught him to never tell a woman what she could or couldn’t do. His brother Liam, who must be around here somewhere wrangling Karen From Finance, had learned that lesson the hard way while working to help Amanda save Sky High Ranch, the property that bordered the Wright Ranch. If a hot head like Liam could learn the lesson to the point Amanda had agreed to marry him, then Drew should be able to figure out a way to gain Peyton Halliday’s cooperation.
But had he just blown his best chance? If he had, how would he ever tell Doc that Drew had just tanked his mentor’s life’s work?
Dread bubbled up in the back of Drew’s throat. Trying to wipe away the feeling so he could think, he ran both hands down his face.
The booming voice of the announcer introducing the next woman rider in the exhibition propelled Drew up the stairs to the catwalk. While he assumed that the women were riding in an exhibition to showcase what the ladies could do aboard broncs rather than a competition requiring multiple go arounds, he couldn’t be sure Peyton wouldn’t ride again tonight. Especially when they were being filmed for the reality TV show. He’d apologize for his initial heavy handedness and simply ask her to help him out by not riding again. Or going rogue, as Doc had said she had a tendency to do. Whatever that meant.
Intent on the bucking chute the women and their camera crew were clustered above, Drew wove his way through the cowboys and stock contractors who had collected on the catwalk to get an up-close view of the pretty cowgirls risking life and shapely limb to prove they could. Before he reached them, he’d received more than a couple of offers of assistance if any of the ladies were in need of a physical exam. Clearly, Peyton Halliday’s successful ride on Karen From Finance had impressed the guys enough to open the door for such ribbing. Or they were just being cowboys. Either way, Drew simply waved them off and worked his way close enough to catch Miss Halliday’s eye.
Her fierce scowl and short, sharp shake of her head let him know just how big his initial mistake had been. And when she then proceeded to completely ignore him, her attention firmly on the brunette climbing down onto a big chestnut bronc, he knew she wasn’t about to talk to him again. At least not during their exhibition tonight. He had no choice but to cool his heels and hope she wouldn’t ride again that night.
And if she did ride and was hurt? While he didn’t doubt his and Doc’s ability to put her back together again if necessary, he probably should try to come up with alternative sources of the cash they’d undoubtedly lose if Peyton ended up injured. There had to be another way to secure the funding needed for the mobile sports medicine clinic.
His attention was yanked back to the action when the gate to the bucking chute was pulled open, and the chestnut exploded into the arena. The cowboys around him automatically parted to give him clear access to the railing which he bent forward to grip, ready to leap into the arena if needed.
The brunette was too far forward and predictably lost her seat after only two bucks from the reddish-brown bronc. Fortunately, she’d obviously known she’d be bucked off and launched herself from the saddle, landing on her hands and feet like a cat. And in the next beat, she was up and running from the unpredictable flying hooves, waving a hand to signal she wasn’t hurt. The wave almost instantly turned into a frustrated slap against her chaps. Male or female, no bronc rider wanted a buck-off, exhibition or no.
Drew blew out a breath and straightened, doing his best to release the tension that always gripped him until he was certain a competitor was unharmed. He loved his job, more than he’d thought possible, but he loved it best when his skills were not needed.
Knowing the sentiment was shared by Doc Tracer, Drew’s gaze went to the gate where the sports medicine personnel, namely Drew and Doc, used to rush into the arena when necessary, and sure enough spotted Doc leaning against the rail. The first aid kit sat at his feet, and the backboard they employed for really bad wrecks stood propped against the fencing.
Next to him was Drew’s dad and grandfather. They must have come to watch Alec compete in the marquee bull riding event later in the rodeo.
Drew took a moment to consider Douglas Neisson, wearing a chambray shirt, jeans, and black cowboy hat, and Thomas Wright, who was dressed in his usual tan suede sport coat, western-style button-down shirt, finely braided black leather bolo tie with a tasteful silver slide and matching tips. His still thick, slightly wavy silver hair was neatly combed beneath a cream cowboy hat. The most obvious alternate source of funding was his own grandfather. Thomas Wright certainly had deep enough pockets to help fund the clinic, and his long and friendly history with Doc Tracer made him the logical choice.
Drew figured the biggest hurdle he’d have to face in convincing his grandfather to step in as the funding source were the optics of one of the most prominent rough stock contractors paying for the upgrade to the medical services for the cowboys injured, sometimes severely, by the animals he provided the rodeo with. To Drew, the dual roles made sense.
Especially after what had happened to his mother, Thomas Wright’s only child.
The dread, better known as stomach acid, retreated to where it belonged, and after one last quick glance at Peyton still helping her fellow lady bronc riders, Drew headed off the catwalk for where the elder members of his family were standing with his boss.
Spotting Drew, his dad broke off from whatever he’d been saying to Doc and extended an arm toward Drew in welcome. Without hesitation, Drew went to his dad and accepted the one-armed hug that ended with a hearty slap on the back.
His dad met his gaze. “Everyone good?”
As the family’s lone medical professional, it was the question he was constantly asked. He didn’t mind. Caring for, and about, the people around him was his thing.
Drew nodded. “Everyone’s fine.”
Next to Douglas, Thomas Wright pulled in a breath that expanded his barrel chest then released it slowly through his nose. People outside of the family believed the only thing the patriarch of the Wright Ranch cared about was the success of their brand, but Drew knew his grandfather would trade it all in a heartbeat if he could ensure the health and happiness of his family. The eventual loss of Drew’s mother beneath the hooves of his grandfather’s most prized bull had nearly broken him.
Drew’s dad had broken, and some would argue he would never again be whole. Drew believed his dad had instead simply found a new way of being, one that didn’t include his wife.
Drew personally never wanted to know what that would feel like.
His grandfather said, “Doc Tracer was just telling us you weren’t down here with him because you have a new assignment.”
“Yes, sir.” Drew stepped away from his father, not surprised his grandfather had immediately zeroed in on what was different in their world. The man had a gift. Nor was Drew surprised at his own nervousness. Thomas Wright had always been, and would always be, an intimidating man. While Drew had never, not even for one second, doubted his grandfather’s love, everyone under his roof had been raised in the cowboy way. They were all expected to live each day with courage, take pride in their work, finish what they started, and do what had to be done. And Drew knew he was about to violate at least a couple of his grandfather’s codes by coming to him for help.
But preserving, and if possible, improving the sports medicine clinic was worth it to Drew.
Glancing at Doc, who seemed to be watching a little too intensely the next female bronc rider trying to get the seat she wanted before she nodded, Drew said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
Drew studiously refused to fidget. “Yes sir, but—”
“Walk with me.” His grandfather turned and moved farther down the arena railing.
Drew followed, and when they’d taken several steps away from Doc and Drew’s dad, Drew said, “I need your help.”
His grandfather’s gray brows twitched upward. “With?”
“Funding for the sports medicine clinic.”
“I thought you were fully funded by the rodeos Doc is contracted with.”
“We are. Barely. And the trailer could really use an upgrade.” Drew hesitated but decided he needed to come clean. “My new assignment is keeping a particular bronc rider hale and hearty, exclusively, in exchange for a sizable donation for the clinic.”
His grandfather shrugged. “Why would that be a problem for you?”
Drew wasn’t surprised by his grandfather’s question because Drew’s reason for going into medicine had never been a secret from his family. He pulled his hat from his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Because this particular bronc rider doesn’t want my… services.” Short of kidnapping her, he seriously doubted he’d be able to keep her off the broncs. But if he could have stayed close, acting as her personal physician, he could have provided her with immediate care if she needed it. Only he couldn’t stay close if she didn’t allow him to.
“Who is he?”
“She.”
His grandfather leaned toward Drew. “Excuse me?”
“The bronc rider I’m supposed to babysit is a she.”
Shifting his attention to the arena and the blonde named Sammie currently trying to maintain a hopeless seat, his grandfather asked, “One of these women bronc riders?”
Sammie finally came off the bronc and landed hard on her back, her chaps flopping upward. The crowd groaned sympathetically.
Drew watched her closely until she popped up with a wave and ran back toward the chutes before he answered his grandfather. “Yes.”
“Which one?”
Drew scanned the platform above the bucking chutes until he found Peyton. He pointed at her. “The petite redhead.”
“The one who rode old Karen?”
“The very one.”
His grandfather nodded thoughtfully.
Drew said, “They’re doing exhibition rides at a few of the rodeos in our circuit because there is a television show filming them—”
“ Buckin’ TV .”
Again, Drew wasn’t surprised because his grandfather was aware of anything and everything happening in the rodeo world, regardless of the location. Drew moved to lean an elbow on the arena fence, absently watching the pickup riders herd Sammie’s victorious mount toward the exit. “Right. They are filming these women while they travel around to various rodeos, proving women can ride broncs just as well as men—”
“What’s her name, Drew?”
Drew pinched his nose, remembering the stubborn set of her delicate jaw while trying to forget the saucy sway of her very well-formed backside. “Peyton Halliday.”
His grandfather settled back on his heels. “Presumably of the sizable-donation-to-the-clinic Hallidays.”
Drew dropped his hand to the metal tube rail. “Presumably.”
His grandfather crossed his arms over his still impressive chest. “And the problem is?”
The acid in Drew’s stomach churned to life again. “ She is the problem.”
“This Peyton Halliday.” His grandfather had a way of asking questions in the form of a statement.
“Yes. The first time I saw her earlier today she was in the process of climbing on the back of one of our bulls that Alec had sent into the chute for a practice ride on.”
“Which bull was Alec—”
“It doesn’t matter which bull.” Drew’s frustration had him interrupting his grandfather for the first time in his life. The upward twitch of one silver-gray brow had Drew quickly amending, “Red Rum. It was Red Rum.”
His grandfather nodded, seemingly impressed. “But you stopped her.”
“Of course, I stopped her. But later, after Doc told me he needed me to babysit her—”
“Which you agreed to?”
“Of course, I agreed. But at the time I thought Peyton Halliday was one of the male bronc riders—”
“So, Peyton being a girl is the problem?”
“No!” Yes! “No,” he repeated with as much conviction as his unconvinced self could muster. “The problem is she refused my help.” If telling her that she had to completely stop what she was doing could be described as an offer of help.
Drew found himself the recipient of the famous Thomas Wright narrowed blue-eyed laser stare. “Your help?”
Drew pushed away from the fencing at being called out for his ham-fisted approach. “Okay, I told her I’d been assigned to keep her safe and that she couldn’t do anything risky—or really anything, for that matter—while she was in Pineville.”
“You actually told her that.”
“Of course.” He’d started to sound like a broken record. “Right after she nearly gave me a heart attack by riding Karen From Finance.”
“Which she did successfully.”
“Yes.” Which was actually pretty impressive. His grandfather clearly looked impressed. Drew waved the accomplishment off. “But she never should have been allowed on that horse in the first place. You can see what a tiny little thing she is.” Drew gestured toward the chutes. “And what was Liam thinking allowing—”
“You said you’d agreed to keep her from harm while she is here?”
“I did, but—”
“Then no, I will not replace the offer of a donation if it’s pulled.” His grandfather uncrossed his arms and settled a heavy hand on Drew’s shoulder. “You agreed to this commitment, Drew. You need to fulfill it. I know you know this.”
The tinge of disappointment in his grandfather’s tone made Drew’s mouth dry.
His grandfather gave his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it. “I can think of worse ways to spend a week than on the tail, so to speak”—he actually winked at Drew—“of a pretty, apparently feisty cowgirl.”
Drew glanced back toward the catwalk. She was pretty. Very. But she was also feisty in the bite your hand, kick you in the head kind of way. He didn’t need that, now or ever.
His grandfather crossed his arms over his chest again. “Have you considered why the Hallidays want someone like you to keep an eye on her?”
“Because she’s a nitwit?”
The corner of his grandfather’s mouth twitched upward, but he didn’t allow the smile. “Perhaps there are other reasons.”
Drew looked back toward where Doc was now talking to Drew’s dad, thinking about what Doc had said about the Hallidays being a very, very wealthy—as in billions?—philanthropic Texas oil family. He absently tapped his hat against his thigh. Was she in some sort of danger?
Drew rejected the notion. Her family wouldn’t let her go off to travel around the country, expecting random guys like him to keep her safe. They would hire professional security providers.
Rejected or not, the notion stirred Drew’s protective nature in very unexpected ways. But after everything his family had been through in the past because of a murderous former ranch hand and a local rustling ring, Drew knew a thing or two about being threatened by outside forces.
“So, you’ll do it?” This time his grandfather actually asked the question rather than stating it as fact.
Drew returned his gaze to his grandfather, who was watching him intently. He fought the urge to squirm. He wasn’t used to the focused attention. Now he knew why his siblings often left his grandfather’s office looking so rattled.
Without his grandfather’s financial help, Drew realized he had no choice if he wanted to assure that the sports medicine clinic could keep operating. Which he did. More than anything.
He tried to release some of his tension with a heavy exhale. “Yes, I’ll do it,” he said, resigning himself to act the glorified babysitter to an uber-rich, reckless cowgirl.
*
Peyton might be good at keeping her anger from showing, but she stunk at squashing it. For the rest of the women’s first round of exhibition bronc riding, while helping make sure her fellow cowgirls’ cinches were tight and that they made it into the saddle safely and for long enough that they were able to nod for the gate pull, she simmered with an ever-growing fury.
How dare her family try to control her way up here in Oregon.
She’d signed up with the Buckin’ TV production, despite knowing full well why they’d wanted her— little rich girl survives awful childhood illness and grows up to risk it all by becoming a ranch saddle bronc rider! —precisely because they would take her far from her smothering family in Texas. There were no women’s bronc riding circuits besides the one in Texas, so the TV show wanting to hit the road for exhibition rides outside of Texas had been what she’d thought the perfect solution for her.
She should have known distance wouldn’t dampen her family’s need to restrict what she tried to do with her life. And what she wanted to do with her life was experience everything this amazing world had to offer. If it got the human heart pumping, she wanted to do it.
At least once.
Which was how she’d become a saddle bronc rider. Spending most of her post-hospital years on her family’s hobby ranch had instilled in her a deep love of all things horse. But the day she’d snuck a ride on a green-broke horse and had managed to stick in the saddle despite the young animal’s best efforts to put her in the dirt, she’d found a new level of adrenaline rush.
But now her family was doing their best to take this away from her, too.
Normally, she’d simply ignore their efforts and keep doing what she was doing, but she didn’t think she’d be able to shake her anger until she’d let them know exactly how she felt about this latest intrusion into her life. She was twenty-five years old, after all. A grown woman. It was time they let her live her own life.
So, as soon as the night’s exhibition ride was over and despite Nat’s insistence all the girls hang on the rails for the camera and watch the men ride—because no matter how bad-ass the woman, apparently, she still just wanted a cowboy—Peyton snagged her saddle and slipped away to make her first and only call home.
She returned to the small trailer she had to herself, the one parental insistence she’d acquiesced to, because if she were to get hurt or, God forbid, sick again, she didn’t want anyone seeing it. The matching silver pickup truck she absolutely adored was unfortunately spending its week in little Pineville at Bud’s Repair Shop getting a new transmission. Fortunately, the gears hadn’t started to slip until they were almost to the High Desert Rodeo grounds, so she’d been able to park her trailer in the competitors’ mobile village before taking the truck in for repair.
Once inside the trailer, she placed her saddle on its frame and locked the door behind her. She didn’t take the time to remove her boots or chaps, instead simply dropping her hat on the little table and grabbing up her phone.
Peyton stared at her contact list for a moment, trying to decide who to call. She settled on the family member most likely to bring in reinforcements in the form of a bossy cowboy. Sliding into the dining booth seat, she touched her finger to the screen and put the phone to her ear and waited to connect.
“Peyton?” Brian Halliday answered on the first ring. Heir to Texas oil tycoon Harold Halliday’s billions, her dad never had his phone out of reach.
But he was a busy man, so she started at his quick answer. “Yes, it’s me. Hi.”
“Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
Peyton winced at the fear in his voice. “I’m fine, Dad. Really. I’m good.” She truly hated worrying her family. She loved them. Dearly. But she needed them to understand that she had to live her life the way she needed to.
“Thank God.” She heard his exhale of relief clearly through the phone. “Do you need something? Money? I can deposit more money into your account right now.”
Peyton rubbed her forehead. She hated this so much. He really did just want to take care of her. But she wasn’t that sick little girl with the leaky heart anymore.
“No, Dad. I don’t need money.”
“Okay…” He sounded skeptical. In his world, everyone needed money.
Her anger left her in a rush. “I just want you to know that I don’t need anyone babysitting me or stopping me from doing what I was hired to do.”
“Peyton—”
“Please, Dad. Just listen to me. I’m not a child. I know what I can and can’t do, and I’ll never try to do anything that I’m not certain I can safely handle. You have to believe me.”
He sighed heavily again. “I do believe you, Peyton. I know full well how strong and talented you are.”
“Then why did you arrange for someone here to stop me? It was you, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” He suddenly sounded older than his sixty years. “But I did it because it was the only way I could stop your brothers from coming after you and hauling you back home. They saw the first episode of that show you are involved in, and they were not happy about it.”
Leaning forward, Peyton dropped her suddenly hot forehead against the cool Formica tabletop. She was so screwed.
“I convinced them I had it handled by arranging for Dr. Andrew Neisson to keep an eye on you. Tell me I have it handled, Peyton.”
She let out her own heavy breath. “You have it handled, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Peyton honey. Be safe. And have fun.”
He ended the call, and all Peyton could think was it looked as though she was now officially stuck with the cowboy doctor.