Chapter Eleven #2
He got his heavy jacket, bear spray, and rifle, then swung by the cookhouse to pick up his lunch.
After that, he went to the barn and saddled a horse.
He chose one of Ryan’s prized Tennessee Walkers—not because he especially liked the breed, but because a Walker was good on the trails and had the endurance to withstand a full day of riding.
He’d choose a quarter horse for cutting cattle. Most days, he drove a four-wheeler.
He spent the day in the saddle and came home with a plan.
He’d move Taryn to Ford’s training team.
Problem solved. No way would anyone ever believe Ford Shannahan was—how had Remi put it?
—smashing a teenaged girl. Smashing things in a traditional sense, sure.
Ford looked capable of taking on an entire army.
But otherwise, it was a surefire hell no.
When he asked himself what would be accomplished by addressing the rumor with Taryn directly, however, he had no idea. It might be best to let it burn itself out. It wouldn’t take long for word to get out that she and Remi had a thing going, since neither one of them could keep their mouths shut.
There was a lesson buried in that.
He took care of his horse, ate supper in the cookhouse, and was back in the bunkhouse by seven. The guys were watching television, and he was reading a book when the phone rang.
“You might as well get that,” someone said to him. “It’s always for you.”
Which wasn’t true. The bosses often called in the evening with instructions for the next day. Nix answered anyway, because while it might not be true, Peg wasn’t known for giving up without a fight.
Sure enough, it was Peg.
“You’re a hard man to reach.” She tried to sugarcoat her impatience, adding a light note to hide it, but he knew it was there.
“I left you a message, but I wanted to confirm. I wouldn’t know what to do if I were stranded.
My flight arrives at Logan International early Wednesday morning. You can pick me up at nine o’clock.”
I wouldn’t know what to do if I were left stranded —a plea to his conscience—followed by an assumption that he’d show up at nine as instructed with no room for refusal. How would Shauna interpret this conversation?
She’d wonder what Peg’s motive was.
“Why don’t you fly into Forth Worth so your parents can pick you up?” he asked, because he really was curious as to what Peg expected to gain. Financially, he had nothing left.
“You and I need to talk, Nix. We have to put all of this behind us somehow. We’ve both made mistakes. Do you really want to give up after ten years of marriage?”
Classic Peg. Take charge of the situation and turn him into the unreasonable one.
The tips of his ears burned. So did the back of his neck.
She wanted him back because she had no one else.
Or until she found someone else. Probably both.
He needed to take the advice he gave Remi.
He’d been led around by the nose hairs long enough.
“Our lawyers did our talking two years ago. Change your flight. It’s a long bus ride to Texas from here.”
He hung up to a round of applause.
“And that, folks,” Dez said, pumping his fist in the air, “is how it’s done.”
Nix didn’t feel done. He didn’t feel much of anything at all. He’d covered a lot of ground in the past two years, literally and figuratively, and somewhere along the line, he’d left Peg behind.
The phone rang again. He picked it up. Jesus, she was persistent.
“Don’t call this number again,” he said quietly, then dropped the receiver into the cradle.
Okay, maybe he felt a little lightheaded.
Freedom did that to a man.
*
Shauna
Shauna rested her chin on her knees. Before she drove to the ranch and murdered him with her bare hands, she should probably think everything through.
They’d had a mutually enjoyable evening. They’d agreed it was worth repeating. They’d parted on excellent terms. Nothing had gone wrong on her end.
Her phone screen went dark. She was sitting in her bedroom closet so she could call him without being overheard.
Freda had offered to take Taryn shopping in Billings Saturday afternoon.
They were going to the theater after that, then planned to spend the night in a hotel, and she’d wanted to share the good news with him.
She knew he didn’t like taking her calls at the bunkhouse.
Even so, telling her not to call the number again, without giving her a chance to so much as say hello, seemed an extreme reaction.
Her number was private and wouldn’t show up on caller ID, so how had he even known it was her?
She needed more information before she jumped to conclusions.
She knew—she knew —there was a logical explanation.
She would, however, be damned before she called the bunkhouse again.
Taryn had mentioned she’d be riding a mechanical bull for the first time on Saturday morning.
Shauna had been hesitant to go—mostly because Taryn made it plain she didn’t want her there—but on the off chance Nix had lost interest in their arrangement, he could tell her in person.
Otherwise, if he wouldn’t get a cell phone for himself, then she’d get one for him.
She spent her spare time all week researching the best places to dispose of a body, just in case. It turned out Montana had quite a few.
By Saturday morning she wasn’t sure whose body she’d need to dispose of—his or Taryn’s—because Taryn had been in a mood the whole week and became especially surly if questioned. Nora was grounded and not allowed to go to Billings with her, not even with Freda to chaperone, so that might be it.
At least she didn’t have to worry about a silent drive to the Endeavour together. Taryn left without saying goodbye while Shauna was pouring her first cup of coffee.
By the time Shauna arrived at the arena, the mechanical bull had been set up near the chute.
The announcer’s booth and executive suites faced the chute from the far end of the arena.
She took a seat in the stadium with the parents whose kids weren’t old enough to drive themselves to the clinic.
Based on conversation, riding mechanical bulls wasn’t the novelty to them that it was to her.
Nix and Miles had pared the participant numbers down to thirty teens, and Shauna felt a burst of pride that Taryn had made the cut. She might be a cousin to one of the owners, but Nix and Miles wouldn’t have kept her if she didn’t show promise.
The mechanical bull sat on a protective pad in case the rider fell off.
Nix operated the control panel next to the pad, while Miles got on the bull first to demonstrate how it was done.
He called out what he was doing with his hands and his hips as Nix made the bull gyrate and bob.
Nix made the kids laugh by increasing the speed and bucking intensity in an obvious attempt to unseat Miles, but Miles, a world champion, took it as a personal challenge and refused to give in.
He threw up his hands in victory when Nix finally brought the ride to a stop, and the parents surged to their feet in a standing ovation.
Montanans took their state sport seriously.
The rule was that the kids had to wear full protective gear whenever they rode, not so much for safety at this stage, but to get them used to having it on.
The first few boys weren’t beginners and managed to stick their whole ride.
The next boys were new and didn’t last long, even with the setting on slow.
Up came Taryn. She fastened her helmet and mounted the bull with the determination of a cavalryman headed for war.
Miles helped her position her left hand under the strap attached to the bull, then showed her how to hold her right hand in the air.
Shauna bit her lip. Taryn looked so tiny, especially next to the boys.
The bull started off slow—slower, it seemed, than it had for the boys.
Taryn said something to Miles that Shauna didn’t catch, but he nodded to Nix, and the bull picked up speed.
Taryn stayed on. The bull began to dip deeper, and Shauna held her breath, and still, Taryn stayed on.
Long seconds passed. A few boys cheered her on.
A few more didn’t appear to like what they saw—not all of them were okay with having a girl in their ranks.
“Time,” Nix called out, and the bull slowed to a halt. Miles helped Taryn dismount. Her legs wobbled a little, but when she took off her helmet, her wide smile spoke volumes.
Shauna’s anxiety eased and she started breathing again.
Hallelujah. Taryn had found an activity she was good at that didn’t involve criminal charges and bond money.
Shauna was never going to understand the appeal of death-defying sports, but the look of pure joy on her sister’s face was enough to earn her support.
Taryn turned to Nix as if about to ask what he thought of her ride, but he’d moved on to the next rider and his expression revealed nothing. Taryn’s face fell, but then Remi was there. He said something to her, and just like that, she was smiling again.
Shauna gave up. She couldn’t understand what was going on in Taryn’s head.
Was she trying to use Nix against Remi? Remi against Nix?
Because she wouldn’t put it past Taryn to lie about her relationship with Remi the same way she’d lied about Nix, although what she might gain from either story was anyone’s guess.
Two hours later, Shauna had seen enough of mechanical bull riding to last her a lifetime. Not much wonder the other adults looked bored. The clinic was done for the day, however, and she hadn’t figured out a way to get Nix alone.
She stayed in the stands until everyone else left, pretending to check her phone messages, then entered the concourse that encircled the arena, where businesses set up booths during rodeos. Today the concourse was empty—the concrete floor bare, and the steel walls exposed.
As she lingered in front of the wide double doors, undecided as to whether she should give up and leave before she began to look desperate, and to let him make the next move, he emerged from the arena and spotted her waiting for him.
He walked toward her, a smile in his eyes, and her heart started to pound. It only took one look from him and all she could think of was making full body contact.
“Next week we’re putting the older kids on real bulls,” he said. “The smaller kids will ride steers. Taryn’s small, but she’s old enough that we’re going to let her decide for herself.”
“How about if she sticks with the mechanical bull?” she suggested, without any real hope.
“As if that will fly. Have you met your sister?” Nix’s smile warmed her.
It wasn’t the smile of a man who didn’t want her to call him again.
Quite the opposite, in fact. “I can’t make it tonight,” he added quietly, dashing her hopes.
“We’re moving cattle on Monday, and a bunch of us will be repairing fencing this afternoon and tomorrow to make sure the new pasture will hold them. ”
She couldn’t hold back her disappointment. She’d worried and waited all week for this, only to find out at the last moment that she’d worried and waited for nothing. Never again. He might be okay with last-minute arrangements, but it wasn’t for her. She liked to plan.
She opened her purse, withdrew the cell phone she’d purchased as her contingency plan, and passed it to him.
“It’s already set up and my number’s programmed in.
Since I can’t call the bunkhouse”—and yes, she had to get that dig in because she still wasn’t positive what that was about—“why don’t you text me the next time you’re free? ”