Chapter 10
Beau
“Get up on that bull, Beau. You’re not pulling the rope tight enough under your arm.”
“Dad,” I groaned as the bull finished its victory lap around the arena, trotting back into the chute where Dad would let it out to pasture. “I’ve come off two weeks of back-to-back events. I’m fucking exhausted. I need a forty-eight-hour reset.”
I ripped off my gold helmet and threw it onto the ground. We were at Kline’s place working some of his retired bulls, but we’d only gotten back from Idaho last night. My body was wrecked, my head wasn’t in it, and I was beyond done with Dalton’s bullshit.
I climbed out of the arena as Dad swung the gate open to let the bull back out. “Well, well, well,” a familiar voice drawled, and I turned to see Kline Johnson strolling over.
Kline was my neighbor, which was ironic considering how small the world of professional bull riding could be. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, though—he was one of the tour’s top stock contractors.
He was in his mid-forties, with dark brown hair streaked lightly with gray at the temples. He had the rugged look of someone who’d spent a lifetime under the Texas sun. His sharp hazel eyes missed nothing, and his demeanor was as steady as the bulls he raised.
I’d known him my whole life—he’d grown up around here like I had.
“Hey, Kline,” I said, walking up to him and giving his shoulder a solid slap.
His ranch was convenient as hell, especially since he had an entire section set aside for retired bucking bulls.
He let me use them for practice, and in return, I helped him out when he needed it.
Sometimes, instead of using a dummy during one of his auctions, I’d hop on one of his bulls to give buyers a better look at what they could expect with a rider on top.
It worked out for both of us, and honestly, having a spot like this close to home was about the only thing keeping me sane between events.
“Did you hear I finally got someone to reside in that ole ranch house out back?”
“That one?” I asked, pointing to a small cabin near the pasture where the retired bulls would be.
“That’s the one.”
“For a ranch hand?” my dad asked.
“Nah.” Kline clicked his tongue. “Maribel convinced me that we need to make a few more sales this year. She said I’ve been terrible at managing the media and marketing portion of the ranch, so she made me hire some fancy-pants agent from the big city.
In exchange, I offered to house them on the ranch so they’d get a feel for the place. ”
“Mmm.” I hummed as I ripped off my vest.
“Heard you snagged first and second at the last two events.” Kline leaned against the black railing of the arena.
“Sure did.” My dad cut in before I could answer, giving me a proud slap on the shoulder.
I winced, the ache radiating through my already battered body. I was completely spent, and every muscle reminded me of it.
I glanced toward the driveway, spotting a car I didn’t recognize. “Is the new person here?”
“Moved in a couple days ago,” Kline said, following my gaze. “Suppose they’re out in Dallas today, grabbing whatever they need. Work starts Monday.”
I snorted. “Can’t believe you brought someone from the city down to Lindley.”
No one who wasn’t used to small-town or ranch life lasted long in Lindley.
It was the kind of place that chewed city folks up and spit them back out.
Northern Texas wasn’t exactly forgiving, and Dallas might have been the closest city, but it was still a good two hours away.
For someone used to city living, adjusting to a place where the nearest big-box store was a solid half-hour drive was unlikely, if not impossible.
“Think they’ll last?” I raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the unfamiliar car.
“Guess we’ll see soon enough,” Kline said with a shrug. “They only need to make it through the summer. If I can get enough systems in place, I’ll be able to manage things on my own again after the team season wraps up.”
I shrugged back. “Not my ranch, Kline, but it’s an interesting concept you’ve got going.”
I jumped up and grabbed my rope before heading back to my truck. “Thanks again for letting me practice.”
Kline gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Not supposed to have favorites, but it’s been a pleasure to watch you grow up around here and make it to the tour.”
“Excited to see some of those marketing tactics the new person comes up with.”
Kline laughed. “I think she’s going out tonight at Dive’s. You should meet her there. Give her a good ole time.”
I laughed right back. Of course it was a girl. Just what we needed around here—more fucking distractions. Too damn bad, even after a week, I was still stuck on that fiery blonde from Chicago.
“Maybe I will, Kline. Maybe I fucking will.”
Dad, Kline, and I went our separate ways, and I hopped into the truck and headed back to the ranch.
The ranch was small—a few horses and some cattle—but it was mine. My plan was to expand it, make it something solid enough to rely on when the time came to step away from the circuit. When I was gone, I had a few people I’d hired to manage the few horses I had and a couple cattle.
That was the goal: Build something steady to retire into.
Something that didn’t involve packing a bag every week or chasing the next paycheck from the next event.
Life on the road wasn’t built for settling down.
Being on the circuit was no place to be married or have a family.
It was relentless. Every week a new arena, a new town, no end in sight.
When you thought you’d catch a break after the world championship, summer hit, and it was all about the team season.
It was exhausting, and while I loved the sport, I couldn’t imagine doing this forever.
The ranch was my shot at something steady.
I wanted to grow the operation, bring in more cattle, expand the pastures, and maybe even set up a breeding program for quality bucking bulls.
Something that could bring in a steady income while letting me stay put.
It wasn’t much yet, but it was a start. A place where I could breathe, away from the chaos of the road and the endless demands of the circuit—and get a fucking break from Dalton and my dad.
As much as I loved traveling with them, they both had their ups and downs.
Dad was . . . my dad, but ever since I was young, he pushed me to get on a bucking bull and follow in his footsteps.
When he was young, he got in a wreck that ended his career.
When I was born, I think he saw that as his version of a second chance.
Mom died when I was in high school, and I was on the tour at eighteen years old.
Dalton came into the picture a little later and became my best friend. Dad and I both helped mentor him. He was young, wild, and rough around the edges—still is. His parents passed away when he was a kid, and I saw a lot of myself in him back then.
Things were different now. I wasn’t the reckless kid I used to be.
My career was no longer at its peak, and I could feel it winding down.
Dalton reminded me of the fire I used to have, but watching him stumble through the same mistakes I made was a bitter reminder of how much the sport had taken from me over the years.
As I pulled up to the house, Dalton’s name flashed on my phone screen.
The ranch house sat against the backdrop of a golden sunset, its big wraparound porch catching the last of the light.
It was the kind of place that begged you to kick off your boots, grab a drink, and forget the rest of the world. Exactly what I wanted to do tonight.
I sighed, answering as I parked the truck. “What’s up?” I said, already bracing myself for whatever bullshit he was about to throw at me.
“We’re going to Dive’s tonight,” he said, his voice way too hyped for how tired I felt. “Some new chick is in town, and I am not missing out on this. You’re coming.”
I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat. “Dalt, I just got home.”
“Please.” He practically begged. “I need a wingman. You can’t let me go in there solo.”
I stared at the house, but Dalton wasn’t one to take no for an answer, and deep down, I already knew he’d wear me down. He always did.
“Fine. Fuck. See you at nine.”