The Cowboy and the Angel (31 page)

Devil had finally settled down in the chute and Derek went back to his corner, hoping it was a good sign that the rest of the rides would go smoothly. As Devil’s rider climbed onto his back, scooting forward over his arm, Derek glanced up at the announcer’s booth where Angela was deep in discussion with Skip, pointing at the chutes. He had to get her out of his head and concentrate.

The rider shifted and jerked his head, signaling his readiness. The chute gate slammed open and cowboys on the ground scrambled out of the bull’s path. Derek breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the rider had worn a protective vest and helmet. Devil bucked hard, unlike the bulls ahead of him. His legs jerked into the air as he twisted before coming down on his front feet with a jolt. Derek had never seen him buck this hard and fast. The animal jerked his head, gearing himself for another twisting jump as the rider rocked back and forth, almost laying against Devil’s back as he kicked high behind him. The buzzer sounded and the crowd cheered for the ride. The cowboy threw his leg over the bull’s head, coming off clean but dropping to his knees from the impact.

Derek and Scott hurried closer as the bullfighters rushed in, distracting the bull as the cowboy jumped up and climbed the chain link fence on the side of the arena. As the clown ran, the bull followed, dropping his head and charging. The clown dodged the animal’s attack, sticking his tongue out at the bull to the delight of the crowd. As the bull moved closer to Derek, he formed a loop with his rope and tossed it over the bull’s horns, guiding him toward the gate ahead of Derek’s gelding. Devil jogged toward the gate and Scott hung a short distance behind him.

Without warning, Devil stopped, snorting loudly. Derek shook the rope, allowing it to slap against the bull’s back slightly. Devil turned on Derek suddenly, kicking his back heels, charging Derek’s horse. Derek kicked the gelding in the side as it spun to get away from the massive beast, and Derek dropped the rope. As the bull charged, the horse kicked out, connecting with the bull’s shoulder but causing the gelding to stumble and fall to its knees.

Derek knew his horse was going down with the bull still loose in the arena. He shoved himself out of the saddle as he felt his gelding’s shoulder hit the soft dirt. His mind ran through several scenarios in seconds. It wasn’t the first time he’d come off his horse in the arena, but it had never happened in a situation this dangerous. If he could reach the panels he’d be fine, and Scott could get the bull out with the help of the clown.

He crawled away as quickly as he could and heard the clown yelling at the bull, trying to get his attention. He glanced over his left shoulder as he leapt up onto one of the empty bucking chutes to see his gelding up on his feet and running past unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief, since it was his best pick-up horse.

“Derek!”

Scott’s voice reached him just as he saw the massive creature barreling toward him from the right. Devil slammed against his thigh, knocking him from the gate. Pain blasted through his leg as he hit the ground and the bull came at him again. Fighting the black tunnel sweeping over his vision, he scrambled on his hands and knees to get away from the infuriated animal, one leg dragging behind him useless. The bull ducked his head and crashed into Derek with enough impact to toss him several feet into the air. He hit the ground with a thud that was far less painful than the impact he’d just endured from the solid skull of the beast. He wanted to move his limbs, but they refused to cooperate, and inky blackness swirled at the edges of his vision. Flashes of color were in front of him, and he realized it was their rodeo clown, teasing the bull away from his trampled body. Fighting to remain conscious, he saw the bull chase the clown toward the barrel just before Scott blocked the rest of the arena from his sight. He heard several other cowboys hurry into the arena, forming a line the bull wouldn’t challenge. Seconds later, the bull exited the arena.

Scott leapt from his horse’s back, dropping the reins as he hurried to Derek’s side. “Don’t move.”

“I don’t want to,” he groaned.

“Get the ambulance,” Scott ordered Mike. “Quick.”

Before he could finish, the back gate was already opening and the ambulance was driving through. Derek glanced up at his brother and saw the worry.

“It’s fine, Scott, I can feel my hands and legs. I just don’t want to move because it hurts.” He started to laugh and coughed. “Crap, that hurts,” he clutched his right side.

Medics rushed to his side with the backboard, moving past the crowd of cowboys surrounding him. Derek wasn’t about to let them take him out on the board. He was sure he’d broken a few ribs and knew there was a chance his leg was broken, but he was walking out of this arena, even if he needed help to do it.

“Help me up.” He waved Scott to his side.

“I think you should stay on the board and let us carry you out. If it’s a broken rib you could puncture a lung,” the medic warned, giving Scott a pointed look, “or worse.”

“I am
not
going out of here on that thing.” He waved the medics off and forced himself into a seated position.

Pain exploded through his side and he couldn’t catch his breath. He clenched his jaw as he looped his arm around Scott’s shoulder. Jake hurried to his other side and helped lift him to a standing position. Derek gritted his teeth, a groan slipping from his throat, as they carried him toward the gate quickly. The announcer hyped the crowd, calling for a cheer, but the pain enveloped him, muffling the sound as if it were coming from the end of a long tunnel. Spots danced in front of his eyes as they exited the gate, and he caught a glimpse of Angela already in the medical tent, waiting for him. She looked horrified, and tears coursed down her cheeks.

“Grab him!” Scott yelled at a nearby cowboy. “He’s slipping.”

I will not fall
.

The thought came just seconds before his vision closed in and everything went from gray to black.

H
ER HEART FELT
as broken as his body looked. The cowboys crowded around Derek in the medical tent, blood and dirt covering his handsome, pale face. She could barely look at him, focusing instead on the medics as they moved swiftly to stabilize his condition. It reminded her too much of the night when her mother lay in the streets and she sat helplessly beside her until the ambulance arrived to transport her to her final moments. When she heard the second ambulance arriving at the rodeo to transport Derek to the local hospital, she wasn’t sure she couldn’t do this. Could she endure watching him risk his life each weekend? It was selfish, self-preservation at its worst, and she despised herself for it. The thought of watching Derek die paralyzed her.

“Angie, aren’t you going with him?” her father asked quietly, reaching for her hand.

Panic flooded her, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “No,” she whispered. She caught a glimpse of Skip with his camera focused on the trauma unfolding in front of him, and she felt sick to her stomach.

Angela ran for the trailer. She locked herself inside as tears began to fall, coursing down her cheeks. Sobs wracked her body as she reached for the necklace at her throat, recalling her mother’s last moments: the ambulance driver offering to let her ride with her mother, the blood soaking through her clothing, her father on his knees on the sidewalk with his eyes silently pleading. Her entire life she’d blamed her father for the fact that she hadn’t been with her mother in her last moments, but it hadn’t been his fault. She’d been too afraid to go with her mother. She’d run and hid, like she was doing now, because she couldn’t face the pain and loss. Instead, she lived with the guilt and regret.

She stood, forcing her fear to retreat. She couldn’t do it again. Angela couldn’t live with the shame of not being with Derek. She loved him too much to abandon him when he needed her most. She might not be able to promise him forever, but she could be with him now. She hurried outside, tears blurring her vision, in time to see the ambulance pull away from the arena, lights flashing silently. Moments later, the siren sounded in the distance as it rushed toward the hospital.

In the midst of the activity, she hadn’t noticed the final rides finishing while other cowboys from the crew filled in as pickup men. Scott saw her approach and brushed past her on his way to the arena. She looked away, swiping at the tears of disgrace slipping down her cheeks.

“Is he going to be all right?”

He stopped and spun to face her, loosing his anger. “Now you care? He needed you and you weren’t there.”

“You don’t understand.” She wasn’t sure she understood either.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I think you forfeited the right to ask.” He clenched his teeth, trying to control his temper, and scanned her with his eyes. “I guess we were all wrong about you.”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant by the comment; she knew. Silvie and Sydney had warned her. They were a close family, bound by strong bonds of loyalty and trust. She’d proven unworthy of that trust. She wanted to apologize, to explain her actions, to tell Scott that she loved his brother, but he wouldn’t even look at her.

Scott shook his head and mounted his gelding, which was tied at the back gate of the arena. “You’ve got your story now, so I guess nothing else matters.” He didn’t give her an opportunity to respond, leaving her staring after him.

“Guess this didn’t go the way you planned, did it, Gigi?”

She turned to see Joe leaning on the railing below the announcer’s booth. He was the last person she wanted to see. “Not now, Joe.”

He shook his head, sympathetically. “I get it. You’re upset.” He walked down the last few stairs and pulled her stiff frame into his arms. “I’ll head back with Skip. We’ve already edited a few commercial spots and teasers to run this week.” He tipped her chin to look at him. “Go back with them and make sure he’s okay. Finish this and we’ll run your story next week. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She hadn’t expected this compassion from him, but she appreciated it. Maybe she hadn’t been fair to him. Maybe he was her friend after all. Right now, he might be the only one she had left.

Chapter Twenty-One

A
NGELA RODE BACK
to the ranch with Scott in silence. She knew he was furious at her, they all were. Mike had barely glanced her way before they left, but she’d seen the disappointment in his eyes. How could she tell them that she was more heartbroken by her choices than they could ever understand? Only her father had looked at her with pity, as if he understood the disgrace and guilt she felt.

“Scott?” She had to make him understand the pain Derek’s accident had dredged from the depths of her past.

He ignored her, clicking on the radio and turning it up, making it clear he had no interest in conversation with her.

A country break-up song filled the cab and his hands squeezed the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, giving away his emotional state. Angela bit her lower lip, wondering if she dared to push him to listen, when a commercial echoed through the truck.

“This week, Channel 12’s Angela McCallister investigates rodeo and the stock contractors who sustain this brutal sport. What may seem like harmless fun for spectators is anything but for the animals dying to entertain,” the announcer bellowed. “Watch our four-part series, beginning Monday. You may never go to another rodeo again.”

Scott reached out and turned off the radio, the hatred in his eyes scorching her, and she moved farther toward the passenger door. “Nothing really matters as long as you get your story, right Angela?” Bitterness dripped from his voice even as it remained calm—too calm.

Angela’s heart dropped into her stomach. Joe had lied to her. He’d ignored the story she’d worked on and used her connection with Mike to take video of what he’d wanted, twisting it to make Findley Brothers look like villains. How could she even defend herself to Scott? She’d already lost their trust because of her treachery against Derek, they would never believe she didn’t have a part in this.

She had to find a way to kill this and prove to Derek that he mattered more to her than any story.

D
EREK HEARD THE
hushed voices amid the beeping and whooshing of various machines and cringed. He recognized the sounds of a hospital but wasn’t sure why he was there. For a couple of measly broken ribs?

He tried to turn his head but realized he was already braced up and lying on his right side. Pain gripped his chest as he tried to take a breath, and he could only groan.

“Derek?” Sydney moved around the bed and in front of him. “Oh, thank God!” She hurried to the door and called for a nurse.

A nurse rushed into the room and checked his vitals before informing him that she would notify his doctor.

“What happened?” he croaked. His voice sounded weak and he wondered how long he’d been out.

“You have several broken ribs from that bull, but then someone even more thick-headed refused to be carried out of the arena and punctured his lung.” She frowned at him. “Did you really have to act so macho?”

He gave her a weak smile and winked. “Cowboy up.”

She glared at his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, that just incapacitated you for the next six weeks. Jen and I were worried sick about you, you jerk.” Sydney rolled her eyes at him.

Great, we have five rodeos scheduled for the next six weeks. How am I going to cover those now? Way to let the family down, Derek.

“Angela?”

A shadow crossed her eyes and she frowned. Derek knew that look and it wasn’t good news.

“Where is . . .”

“Mr. Chandler, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” Derek looked at the woman, who appeared younger than he was, as she laid a clipboard on his bed. His questions about Angela would have to wait, but not for long. He would get some answers from Sydney.

“Can’t breathe,” he struggled to get even the few words out.

She nodded. “That’s to be expected. You need to try to take slow, deep breaths. You did puncture your right lung, but we were able to aspirate so you will most likely go home today. You’re going to need plenty of rest and no strenuous activity for at least six weeks.” She pulled a sheet of instructions from her clipboard. “These will give you a few other suggestions, but take ibuprofen for pain, 800 milligrams, and icing your ribs will help any swelling. Lying on the ribs will help as well. Most importantly, take deep breaths at least every hour.” She smiled at him and folded her arms over the clipboard. “You’re pretty banged up, but you were lucky.”