Chapter Nineteen
E mily stood off to one side, about even with the temporary stage that had been put up in the arena, below the boxes above where the announcers would call the events on the loudspeaker system.
She could have made her way to the back, where all the important folks were gathered, but she preferred to be out here among the people who were here to enjoy the rodeo, not the ones who used it as a chance to make a speech.
Like the mayor, who had passed her patience-for-politicking level some time ago.
The audience was getting restless, catcalls beginning to be heard. Even Lobo seemed bored with the man.
But that changed abruptly when another man took that stage.
Last Stand had by now fully accepted Jackson Thorpe as a local, but they hadn’t forgotten his standing as a celebrity either, one who had garnered so much attention for his work on Stonewall , but even more for walking away from it. And he acknowledged that first thing.
“Thank you, all of you. It’s nice to feel like I’m talking not to a bunch of strangers, but a bunch of neighbors.
As most of you know, I’m here to make an introduction.
Not of some guy I just met backstage here, but a guy I’ve known for years.
You all know him from before that, as a rodeo star—which I didn’t find out until somebody else told me, by the way, since he sometimes carries humbleness to extremes—but to me he’s the guy who is pretty much responsible for what success I’ve had.
He got me my first job on the crew wrangling horses on a film set.
You know, in that place on the West Coast that makes things up. ”
That earned him a lot of laughs and some exaggerated mock boos, as she was sure he’d intended.
She noted what he’d said about Tucker being humble, and couldn’t disagree.
But now, after reading Lily’s profile of him, she understood better why it had never gone to his head, why his success hadn’t been about fame and prize money, but so much more.
“So without wasting any more time, here’s the guy you’re all here to see, ladies and gentlemen and kids, four-time national bull-riding champion, the last time won with a perfect score of 100, the man who’s an inspiration to anyone who’s had to overcome…
well, anything in life, and my best friend, Tucker Culhane! ”
Emily felt her pulse kick up a notch. How crazy was that?
The guy half the women in the country regularly drooled over is up there and she just smiles because she likes him and what he’s done to become part of Last Stand.
The guy he introduces, long gone from Texas and much less famous steps out, and her response is… well, crazy.
But she couldn’t deny that as Tucker went up the steps and walked over to his friend, she reacted. To the way he looked, his long-legged stride, to the fact that he was able to move like that at all after what he’d been through.
When he got to the microphone, he and Jackson did that manly sort of combination hug and back slapping. It made her smile, which was odd because she’d seen it countless times before, working among mostly men.
For a moment he just stood there, scanning the sizeable crowd.
She hadn’t yet heard the totals on the ticket sales this year, but the Last Stand rodeo was a draw all over the Hill Country and beyond.
And she supposed Jackson’s presence drew a few more, who probably had no idea what they were in for.
She thought that Tucker’s gaze snagged for a moment, near where she was. But then she laughed at the idea that he’d somehow spotted her in this mass of people. Then he spoke, and his voice coming through the loudspeakers set up for the day, sent another kind of sensation down her spine.
Then he looked back at Jackson, who had stepped to the back of the temporary stage, but spoke loud enough for the mic to pick it up. “I see you didn’t mention you’re the only reason they kept on a broken-down rodeo rider, because you insisted on it in every contract.”
Another round of applause went up, and Emily found herself liking even more that he made sure anyone there who hadn’t read the article knew that.
Or maybe he just wanted to acknowledge it in public and in person.
Jackson smiled, looking a little embarrassed, but then flicked a finger toward the crowd, as if to remind his friend what he was there for.
Tucker turned back, and she saw him take a deep breath she thought was a tiny bit shaky. “Nothing smells like a rodeo, does it?” he said, to appreciative laughter. That seemed to steady him. “And I’m only here because somebody wiser than I told me you do not say no to Maggie Rafferty.”
For the first time Emily felt glad for the heat of the day, even at this early hour, because it would be an excuse for what she was certain were her pink cheeks.
He looked out over the crowd again. “It’s been a long time, but it feels good.
So best of luck to all the competitors today, thanks to all the critters involved, and to all of you for showing up.
Don’t want to waste any more rodeo time so I’ll just say—” he looked her way again, and his words told her he had indeed spotted her earlier “—let ’er rip! ”
The roar that went up then was proof he wasn’t just a name they’d heard somewhere. They remembered Tucker Culhane. Remembered his signature phrase, just before they let the bull loose.
But all Emily could think of was that he’d found her in this crowd. That he’d used her suggestion. That he’d looked right at her when he’d done it.
And that she had no words for how that made her feel.
*
As he signed a rodeo program, Tucker wondered how Jackson stood it.
While he’d been approached several times, Jackson was surrounded just about every minute.
But he noticed a few times when a local took him aside and held the visitors at bay for a few minutes, giving him a break.
Tucker liked how they were protecting his friend.
He wandered around the grounds, orienting himself. And when he got to the back area, the corrals, main barn, and temporary structures, he spotted Logan Fox and headed that way. The man was just finishing a check on his gear when he looked up, and smiled widely.
“Glad you’re not getting on one of those berserkers today,” he said.
“Me, too, to be honest,” Tucker said. “But I’ve missed the rest.”
“It’s a unique thing, rodeo.”
They talked about that for a while, before Logan had to see to a horse he’d promised to replace a shoe on before his calf-roping run this afternoon.
Tucker moved on, breathing in those smells he’d mentioned: the horses, the cattle, the dust, the crowd, and the occasional whiff from some food stand.
There was nothing quite like it, and he wondered if maybe he could stand to do this occasionally now.
It had stung too much before, re-entering this world that had both saved him and nearly ended him, this world he had so loved but could no longer be a part of in the way he’d once been.
He did plan to avoid the bull riding, though, despite efforts from the organizers to get him to be there.
Maybe he was a coward, but he couldn’t face that just yet.
He felt an ache low on his left side, but knew it was just in his mind, that he was just remembering.
He gave a rap with his knuckles to the titanium structure that now held that side of his lower rib cage together, trying not to let the memories of the stabbing agony overtake him.
He watched some of the other events. The bronc riding, thinking if he’d been smart he would have gone that way, given that trained bucking horses just wanted to be rid of you while there was always the occasional bull who seemed determined to kill you.
He soaked in the cheers of the crowd at a good ride, and the grin on the face of the cowboy who’d done it.
But the cheers became a roar when an apparent local favorite made a good, solid ride and then at the buzzer dismounted just as smoothly, lifting one leg forward over the saddle and sliding to the ground, then rolling neatly up onto his feet, in what looked like a planned stunt dismount from a horse that had never bucked in its life.
“And there you have it, a slick, Tucker Culhane dismount, folks! A real ‘Tuck and roll’!”
He jerked round to stare up at the announcer’s box, as the roar continued.
And those around him who recognized him from this morning seemed to be yelling the loudest. He got more claps on the back then he could count, and shook more hands in that next ten minutes than he thought he ever had in his life.
He was grateful when the next event started and he could escape.
He never would have thought that dismount would become famous.
He’d gotten into the first one almost accidentally, when it was just the position he was in when the buzzer went off to signal he’d made it.
When he’d slid down the left side of the bull the animal twisted, enough to both send him to the dirt but also give him the momentum to continue the roll right up onto his feet.
It had gotten such a reaction he tried it intentionally the next time.
And before he knew it, the “Tuck and roll” was… well, a thing.