Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
WINNIE
All the Glittery Lights
Send me goss. I’m questioning my choices of not coming tonight. You’re out of snacky snacks.
It’s crowded as all get out. You made good choices. Get delivery.
Hard agree. Do NOT let Cord get on a bull. NO MATTER WHAT.
I promise I won’t let him ride a woolly. Send you pics if I can get Billy on one, though. West and I have a standing bet.
Ha. That’s a picture. Let me know when Jesse wins.
All our money is on Dustan.
***
You don’t know him, but you will. Valiant Peak’s newest fixture. I promise.
Trixie’s horse flies around the barrels, wobbling one but not knocking it over, before her ride ends to the sort of applause every rider dreams of at a rodeo.
Her ovation lasts minutes, punctuated by catcalls and whistles, showing up the other riders who haven’t had a chance to show off yet.
She’s by far one of Valiant Peak’s most popular riders, and she knows it.
Levi hauls her denim-clad ass up to the mic to talk to give him a break for a bit, though I swear he can go all night without coming up for air.
We end up with the Valiant Peak workers who have spent the last month erecting the stadium that, it turns out, will become a permanent fixture in the town.
West is in his element, talking with other engineers and designers who worked with Cordell on the project, while I spend my time cheering on riders I barely recognize.
There’s more new talent than I expect on the circuit, with Dustan playing general pinup boy and holding hats while the boys ride.
Most of the boys field their share of buckle bunnies, who try each rider on for size and steal more hats than Dustan can control.
Some get lucky early in the evening. Even Cord brushes off his fair share of women who cling to him, his irritation clear when he finds Billy standing guard over me as I watch the riders, pushing away the talent who aren’t familiar with Rand’s rules.
That lasts until West comes back and glowers at everyone. Then the hats are collected with a modicum of decorum and apologies.
“Marking your territory much, Mister West?” I snark at him, not entirely disappointed in his behavior. Rand’s Rules needs to go up on a poster somewhere. I swear I’ll have them made up for the next Invitational just to annoy my brother.
“I’m makin’ sure you’re not bothered by the randy young ones when I’m not around,” he mutters.
“Especially if I’m helping out over the next few days, once the event’s done and dusted.
Dustan won’t need training unless he’s moving on to the next event in the circuit, and the season is on pause for a few weeks.
That was always the point of the Invitational.
It was designed as an out-of-season exhibition ride for new talent.
Cord hand-picks a stack of riders and allows a few wild-card entries.
Last year it was Jesse Duke. This year, I’ve brought in Dustan.
There’ll be at least one more, maybe two for the final round. ”
“Wow.” I blink. “And here I thought you all just wanted to piss off some bulls.”
“Nah, that’s what they do during the season.”
A tall, dark, and lithe cowboy dressed all in black nods to us, leaning forward to clap West’s shoulder.
His build is the opposite to West’s. Where my guy is tall and barrel-chested and all shoulders, this man is so much leaner in muscle.
His arms look lanky, but from the way he handles the bulls in the enclosure next to us when he’s called to jump in and sort a small rumble out, he’s far from out of place in the melee.
“That’s Easton East. He’s a good operator. Clearly knows his stuff,” West tells me while I’m still stuck on his name.
“His name is East East?” I clarify.
“Yeah. Close enough.” West takes his hat off and scratches the back of his neck, looking at me warily.
“And you’re West?” I frown at him, unsure whether I should laugh or not.
Probably keep that one on the inside.
“Is there a problem with this?” West closes his hand on my hip and squeezes.
“No. No problem at all.” My squeak comes out to play, like it always does when he’s around.
“Good.” West’s voice drips with desire as he pulls me in closer. “Because once we’re back tonight, you and me? We’re having a different kind of talk about the future.”
“Oh.” I’m out of words. Nothing comes out when he looks at me like that, like I’m the only person who matters to him.
West consumes the world and everything in it. All the breathable air, all the sound from the rodeo. All the people. His arms slide around me and his mouth grazes mine in a barely there kiss that’s just meant for us. A shiver starts low in me as I tip my head back, giving him what he wants.
Everything.
The low sound of approval that emanates from the back of his throat sends a different wave of need coursing through me. I grip the front of his shirt, wrinkling the starched cotton, but neither of us seem to care.
“Good to see you two have kissed and made up,” my brother says, snickering from somewhere behind us.
West draws back, the moment ruined.
I sigh. “Only you would have the balls to do that, big boy.” I turn in West’s embrace and pat Cord’s arm. “I’m sure I’ll make it up to you at some point. Lanie’s fine, by the way.”
Cord flashes me a grin, waving the phone clutched in his hand. “I know.”
My smile turns genuine. “She’ll be okay, Cord.
” I know my brother, but seeing his concern matters.
Sometimes he can be the genius version of himself, and all he knows is numbers and processes.
That side forgets people while he’s busy being the other part that turned him into the business mogul.
This version, the man before me, will make a wonderful father and be the person Lanie needs, who adores her so vibrantly.
“Your boy’s up!” Slade hollers at West from the top of the rail nearest the chute.
West squeezes me again. “I’ll be back soon.” He plants me next to Cord, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Then he’s loping away, climbing the fence like a monkey.
I laugh softly, watching him go.
“What?” Cord elbows me.
I snort. “If I tried to do that, I’d rip the seam of my jeans right down the middle for everyone to see my panties.”
Cord groans. “Yeah, I can visualize that all too well. So thank you for that fabulous image. You wanna go see West’s rider?”
“Hell, yes. You’ll love him. Dustan is sparkly,” I tell my brother as he hoists me up onto the fence, albeit not quite as high as West went and not as close to the chute in the crew area.
Levi runs through Dustan’s intro and I listen with interest to the boy’s history. He’s been around, riding in rodeos longer than I expected. It’s good to know his training isn’t an ego trip and West didn’t just pluck him out of the dust.
“West’s a good trainer. He’ll do great,” Cord encourages.
I raise both eyebrows. “Aren’t you supposed to be jealous, or something?” I’ve never said it out loud before, but I figured that was the beef between the two men the whole time.
Cord cants his head to one side. “He’s a trainer, li’l sis.” He smirks when I glare at him. “That’s what he does. He builds. And nurtures.”
“You make him sound like a mother hen.” Now I’m the grumpy one.
“Valiant Peak has always been about bringing in new talent. West finding me new blood keeps this place going.”
“And here I thought it was another bragging point for you.” I nudge my brother gently.
“Nah. West’s doing us all a favor.” Cord gets that thoughtful look on his face that means he’s concocting a plan I know I’ll hate.
“Stop it.” I poke him.
“Stop what?” He’s all innocence.
“Gah.” I stop shy of blowing a raspberry at him. Just. It’s a close thing.
Music starts. I don’t recognize the song, though it’s a good tune with a decent beat. Something about rodeos and dust and heartbeats. A bull bursts from the chute. It’s big and black and covered with purple glittery tassels. Nope, that’s Dustan being himself. And he’s…
Staying on the damn bull.
For all the times that West has told me he’s fallen off, more than I counted Jesse Duke eating Coyote Falls dust while I stayed with Cord the last time with Sally, I expected Dustan to, well, eat dust.
In about two seconds.
At three, he’s still holding on.
“Four,” I mutter, curling my fingers into fists in my lap. My nails bite into my palms. “Five.”
“Stop it,” Cord berates me, but then adds to my count. “Six.”
“Asshat.” The bull swirls about in a fit of rage, or disorientation. I can’t work out which. Dust puffs everywhere, obscuring our vision.
“Seven,” we say together.
Purple glitter reflects off the lights that flare out my vision.
“Eight,” I whisper.
The buzzer goes off. Flames shoot from their mounts set at regular intervals around the stadium my brother has built. The effect creates a rippling volcanic pattern, illuminating three thousand fans cheering for West’s new rider.
“He’s done it.”
The words fall from my lips as the dust clears and glitter stops glittering. And we see what the bull has left behind.
A still cowboy, lying in the settled dust.
“Fuck. No.” Cord’s too-loud shout fills the quiet moment.
No one cares. He’s up and standing, too fast for his back, ready to jump, but West’s already there.
Boots hit the sawdust as he slams into the ground, his face a tight mask.
I grip Cord’s sleeve, willing him not to leave me.
Billy and Slade round the bull back through the chute, but my mind only registers the fact vaguely.
A pervasive silence falls over the crowd, which hasn’t shut up since the event started. But they seem to understand that now is not the fucking time.
Where’s the doctor? Who’s the medic? I never thought to check, even though I should have.
I know better. Prayers and all are cute, but right now a doctor matters.
Suddenly I’m standing too. Is he breathing?
Help him! My throat tears even as I’m moving too, and it’s Cord whom I see lying in the dust all over again.
No, it’s my brother gripping my arm as I repeat the words that tore from my throat a year ago and now come again, an echo of the same scene all over again.
“Winnie, there’s a doctor. It’s not me. It’s not me,” Cord repeats. His voice is low, his arms tight around me. “West has him. They’re coming.”
But everyone is moving too slow and no one is around the man who lies still in the dust.
Purple glitter shifts. Tassels dance in the dirt. Weak ripples in a sawdust pond. Dustan raises an arm in a thumbs-up and then hauls his ass up on his own.
“I’m good. Y’all can stop screaming. Winnie, I know that’s you.”
I shut my mouth, but my tears don’t stop for the boy I’ve adopted as the little brother I didn’t know we needed at Coyote.
“That one’s ours,” I whisper to Cord, letting him hold me tight.
He nods, not letting go. “Yeah, Winnie. He is.”
West crouches over Dustan as I cling to my brother, holding tight.
I could leave, but also I can’t. The precious thing in my world is holding me right now, and I’m glad that Sally didn’t come after all.
Yes, the Valiant Peak Invitational is a family-friendly event, but our family has known enough tragedy at bulls’ hooves to scar us all.
And, unlike Cord, not all of us bear physical marks. Some of us carry our scar tissue on the inside.
Eventually the doc leaves, content that Dustan is as good as he says he is, and Dustan wraps an arm around West’s shoulder. The crowd cheers him twice as loud as he limps away from the patch of dust where we all thought history had repeated itself but hasn’t.
And tonight, every one of the Coyote Falls and Valiant Peak crews are grateful for that.
Every face is open and smiling but drawn and glassy-eyed at the same time.
Hands grab for West and Dustan as crew members help both men climb the rail.
Dustan tumbles over the other side. Dylan is there, dressed in sunset orange, to catch him.
Glitter and dust mingles in a small cloud when they share a kiss.
I half expect some ribald comments from the group that traditionally doesn’t accept that sort of display—I grew up with this crowd—but I’m beyond pleased when all that erupts out is a few small cheers and a laugh or two.
West settles on the rail on my other side, tugging me away from Cord. “You okay?” he asks gruffly.
I peer up at him as he swipes my cheeks with a dirt-encrusted thumb. I’ll be filthy in seconds, but I don’t care. What I look like really doesn’t matter a whit right now. “How are you not crying?” I whisper, like that’s a big secret I need to keep between us, him a macho cowboy man and all.
The West of a week ago might have laughed at me. Tonight he watches my face like he’s memorizing every inch. “I ran out of tears back in a hospital hallway years ago. Remember?”
I’ve sat in so many hospital hallways and cried so many tears that they all blur in my memory. I shrug. “It’s all white. And cold. And—”
He kisses me, gentle and deep and sweet and like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss me again.
And I know we’re going to be okay.