Corralled (20 page)

Then she was gone.

Huh.

Hank wandered through the bullpens. While he waited for the bull riding to start, Hank watched the bulldogging. Normally he concentrated on limbering up. But tonight, Hank wanted to see the rodeo through a spectator’s eyes.

Lainie’s eyes?

Yes. Dammit. He hated that she was sitting alone. She spent way too much time by herself.

Music blared as the official rodeo sponsor truck rolled into the arena. Men jumped out of the truck bed, positioning the Coors barrels for barrel racing at the designated intervals.

Sixteen competitors was a big showing for the field of barrel racing. Sometimes he wondered how Celia would’ve fared if he and Abe hadn’t insisted she quit after the disastrous fall that’d broken her leg and forced them to put her horse down. After losing their parents, he and Abe had gone ballistic; they couldn’t fathom losing Celia too. So they’d done the only thing to keep her safe—forbidden her to compete.

And your job fighting bulls is so much safer?

Hank blinked. It’d been a long time since he’d thought of LORELEI JAMES 9

Celia’s old argument. Did she resent them for making her quit the sport? Especially after Lainie agreed that they treated her like a child?

The barrel racers were milling about on their horses. Hank limbered up as he watched. He half heard the announcement of the last competitor, CeCe Murray from outside Rawlins, Wyoming.

The home- state girl raced to the best time and finished in first place with a damned impressive ride.

As the barrels were pulled, Hank, Strand, and Peck waited across the arena from the chutes for their names to be called. National honors and winning bullfighting competitions were touted as each bullfighter made his way across the dirt. When the announcer boomed the standard, “Who’s ready to see some bull ridin’?” that same lackluster crowd went wild.

Hank was oblivious to everything but the rider on the back of the bull. Not many of them lasted. One rider had gotten hung up in the rope and was taken for a ride before Hank freed the wrap.

Kyle was up next. He’d drawn White Lightning Kiss, a Charolais/Brahman cross with a reputation for trying to pulverize riders into meat. According to the stats, White Lightning Kiss had been ridden only two times on thirty- two outs. Both those rides had scored ninety- three points.

Come on, buddy. Stay on.

After a last- minute adjustment on the bull’s back, Kyle nodded to the gatekeeper. Hank was right there. Close enough to the rider to offer immediate assistance if need be; far enough away from the bull to let the ride progress unimpeded. He didn’t watch the ride as much as think what could go wrong with it.

Luckily, nothing did. Kyle hung on for the full eight seconds.

After the buzzer sounded, Kyle released his rope. He sailed into the air and landed on his hands and knees before booking it to the fence.

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The boot stamping and clapping signaled the spectators’ opinion of Kyle’s ride. The announcers filled the time waiting for the judge’s decision. Finally the announcement came. “Ladies and gentlemen, how about a . . . ninety- one?”

Whistles, more clapping.

“Our leader from last night proved it ain’t no fluke he’s on the top of the board. Only eight riders to go. Let’s see if the Wyoming cowboy can hang on to the top spot.”

The rest of the rides went quickly as only one guy managed to cover his bull. Folks began to leave— which boggled Hank’s mind.

Didn’t matter where the rodeo was held, few spectators stuck around for the award ceremony. Some people claimed handing out the money was less interesting than a rodeo participant getting handed his ass. But Hank believed that since most folks in attendance were ranchers, they just wanted to get on home. Since Kyle had finished big, Hank hung around for the presentations.

Bareback and saddle bronc winners were announced first. Kyle bumped fists with a guy named Breck. Then team roping, tie- down roping, and steer wrestling. Barrel racing and bull riding winners were named last, in rapid succession.

The strangest thing happened when CeCe Murray walked up to claim her Black Hills Gold belt buckle and her check. Kyle went rigid, then grabbed the woman by the arm and hauled her up to the tips of her ropers.

Shit.

The Breck guy intervened long enough for Kyle to get his buckle. Afterward Kyle continued to berate the poor woman with the misfortune of standing next to him in the awards line.

Hank leaped the fence and raced across the arena to calm Kyle down. But when he arrived, he understood Kyle’s behavior. He barked the first thing that popped into his head: “Jesus Christ, Celia. What the hell are
you
doin’ here?”

LORELEI JAMES 9

Holy fucking shit . . . this tarted- up woman was his baby sister? His plain- Jane baby sister? Who wore castoff men’s flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and the same damn ugly pair of work boots every damn day? Who was this beauty with the perfectly made- up face? The artfully braided hair? The skintight shirt that shimmered with beads and metallic thread and showed off her cleavage? Not to mention the rainbow- colored rhinestone belt and painted- on jeans that highlighted the curve of her hips? She was an absolute fucking knockout.

And he’d knock out any man who looked at her. Lay him out cold. His eyes scanned the other winners, but the only guy paying attention to the outburst was Breck. His gaze was firmly glued on Celia’s ass.

Hank stepped forward, between Breck and his sister’s butt.

“What the fuck you looking at?”

“Her.” Breck’s arms stayed crossed over his chest. “ ’Cause, hot damn, is she ever mighty fine. She yours?”

“Yes, she’s mine; she’s my fuckin’ sister, asshole.”

“Hank, knock it off,” Kyle snapped. “Breck, thanks for sticking around, but we’ve got this under control.”

Breck sidestepped Kyle, addressing Celia. “Damn fine ridin’

tonight, sugar pie. Any time you wanna get a beer or something, let me know.”

“How about right now?” Celia asked through clenched teeth.

He laughed. “Oh, I like to flirt with danger, believe me, but I ain’t getting in the middle of this. Later.” Breck winked at Celia and ambled off.

“I really like your friends, Kyle,” Celia cooed.

“You didn’t answer Hank,” Kyle reminded her sharply. “What in God’s name are you doin’ competing in barrel racing? Far as I know,
sugar pie
, you were banned for life from this activity.”

“Not by any official organization, just my overprotective

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brothers. When I turned eighteen I made my own decision about what I wanted to do with
my
life and
my
time.” Her defiant chin kicked up a notch. “I get that you’re surprised—”

“I’m shocked down to the bone,” Hank snapped. “So this has been goin’ on for three years?”

“It’s been goin’ on for a hell of a lot longer than that. Did you see her ride? Jesus. She was amazing. No fuckin’ way did she get that damn good in such a short amount of time.” Kyle loomed over her. “You never quit, did you?”

“I didn’t quit practicing. I quit
competing
. Big difference.”

“No difference,” Hank retorted. “Where’d you get the money to start hitting the rodeos? Because I know it ain’t cheap.”

“I earned it.”

Hank laughed. “Doin’ what?”

“What the hell does it matter to you? I pay my own traveling expenses. And my entry fees. I take care of boarding my horse. It’s my money—”

“What horse you riding? It ain’t one of ours.”

There was that stubborn look again.

“Where’d you get a horse of that caliber, Celia?”

She grudgingly said, “I bought Mickey from Eli as a cow horse.

But neither of us knew how much natural ability he had until I started putting him through his paces.”

Hank gave Kyle a look that promised he’d deal with Eli.

A look Celia intercepted with a terse, “Leave Eli out of this. I mean it, Hank. You wanna piss me off worse—”

“Piss
you
off? You wanna talk about torqued off, little sis, just how long have you been sneaking around behind Abe’s and my backs? Lying to us?”

Her mouth flattened. Her eyes glowed with pure anger.

“Answer him,” Kyle demanded.

When Celia remained mum, Hank also got in her face. “Fine.

LORELEI JAMES 9

I’m tired of arguing with you anyway. Get your shit packed and get on home. Abe will hafta deal with you until I get back.”

“No.”

Hank froze. “What did you say?”

“I believe she said no,” Lainie said behind them.

Both he and Kyle turned around.

Fucking great. He tried to calm down, if only for Lainie’s sake.

“Lainie. Darlin’—”

“Don’t you dare
Lainie, darlin’
me, Hank.” Lainie glared at Kyle. “You either, Kyle.” She moved beside Celia. “You okay?”

“Yes and no. Yes, because I won.” She held up the gold buckle.

“No, because . . . well, you heard.”

“Ignore them. Celebrate the good. It was a great ride. I videotaped it with my cell phone, if you want me to send it to you. I’m definitely sending it to Tanna.”

“You are?”

“Yes, but I’ll warn you it’s not the greatest quality—”

“Wait a second. How did
you
know to videotape CeCe. . . ?” A fresh burst of anger erupted and Hank loomed over Lainie. “You fucking
knew
she was competing in barrel racing?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

Lainie stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you are being a complete and total dickhead to your only sister.”

Hank’s mouth opened. Closed.

“I’ll say this once. Celia is not a baby. She is a twenty- one- yearold woman who you and Abe still treat like a girl. I watched you both do it, so don’t tell me I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I do. Believe me, I do. If you want to drive her away, by all means, keep it up. Continue to make all of her life decisions for

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her, because she’ll decide to leave, and that’ll be the best decision she makes.”

“Hank and Abe only want what’s best for her, Lainie,” Kyle said.

“No. They want to control her. But you’re in the same ‘she’s a little girl’ mind- set they are.”

“Maybe if Celia started acting responsible, Abe and me would take her more seriously.” Right after Hank said it, he knew it was the wrong damn thing to say.

Celia stomped up to him. “Responsible? Who does all the books for the ranch? Makes sure the bills get paid on time? Checks that our grazing permits and all that other federal, state, and tribal paperwork is filed in quadruplicate?”

Lord. He’d really stepped in it.

“I’ve always done anything you’ve asked, Hank. Both you and Abe. The one thing I wanted in my life? You guys denied me. For my own good. So yeah, maybe it was rebellious to keep up with my training. There were so many times I wanted to tell you, but I knew you’d react like this. And guess what? I wasn’t wrong.”

Lainie rubbed Celia’s arm in a show of support that both inflamed Hank and endeared her to him.

Kyle said, “What’s wrong is that you’re putting yourself at risk.

It is childish not to give a shit that Hank and Abe both worry about you. It’s selfish as hell, Celia.”

“You’re one to talk, Kyle. Didn’t you tell me your mama begged you
not
to get on the back of a bull again? After you were seriously injured? What did you do after a full year’s recovery time? Said ‘too bad, so sad, Mama, see you later; I got me some bulls to ride.’ So don’t you dare lecture me about selfishness and childishness.”

Hank bet Kyle was sorry he’d opened his big trap too.

LORELEI JAMES 9

Yet the man kept going. “Dressing like that ain’t helping.” He gestured to her clothing. “Don’t lie and say this whole thing is only about you wanting to race around a buncha barrels. It’s about you getting noticed by every damn cowboy in the place.”

Celia shoved him. “You arrogant fucker. I caught you looking at my ass earlier tonight when you didn’t know it was me.”

Kyle’s mouth dropped open. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did. So what if guys notice me? It’s a nice goddamn change from the pats on the head I get from every man within thirty miles of Muddy Gap, Wyoming, who only see me as Hank and Abe Lawson’s baby sister.”

Silence. But the glaring contest between all four of them could’ve started the hay bales on fire.

Nothing would get resolved tonight. Hank knew a cooling- off period was definitely in order. “Look. Can we talk about this later?

When I get back to the ranch? I’ll call Abe and give him a headsup—”

“See? This is what I mean!
I
can talk to Abe. I don’t need you running interference— or interfering— in my life, Hank.”

“Fine.” He threw up his hands. “Do whatever you want. I keep forgetting you’re a big girl. Are you gonna be pissed off and snap at me to mind my own business if I tell you to drive safe and call me when you get home?”

“No. I’ll call you.” Celia muttered, “Asshole.”

Lainie took Celia aside and they spoke so quietly Hank couldn’t hear. Which just added another layer of frustration to the already frustrating situation.

Kyle leaned over. “When the fuck did they get so chummy?”

“Fuck if I know.”

The women hugged and Celia walked off without a backward glance.

Lainie approached them, hands jammed in her pockets. She

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started to speak, but apparently thought better of it. Then she too wandered off without a word.

Kyle grunted, echoing Hank’s sentiments exactly. They headed to the changing rooms.

Most guys had already cleared out. The showers were empty, but Hank preferred the noise. Maybe he could block out the idea that his sister had lied to him for years. How had he not known?

Because you’re so involved in your own life that you fail to see what’s
going on around you.

Not entirely true. Celia must’ve done a damn good job of hiding it, because Abe hadn’t known about her secret barrel racing either. He snorted. Secret barrel racing. Like it was some sort of crime. When he put it in that context it was almost funny.