Page 172 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

He folds around the blow, then pulls the knife from his belt and slashes across my side. The blade cuts through my shirt and skin, but I catch his wrist before he can strike again and slam it against the chute until the knife falls into the dirt.

Travis slams his forehead into my face and tackles me against the metal rails. Blood fills my mouth as his fist catches my jaw, and the impact sends another burst of pain through my shoulder, but anger has made him careless enough to repeat the same attack.

I block his next punch and drive my elbow into his throat, forcing him back while he coughs and reaches for the knife lying in the dirt.

“Red!” Arizona shouts from behind him.

A damaged panel tips toward her, and she scrambles beneath the lower rail before it crashes into the lane and blocks the path to the main arena.

Dust rolls across the space as Travis drives into my side and takes us both to the ground. My knee slams into the packed dirt hard enough to buckle, but I twist before he can pin me and catch his mouth with my fist as he swings for my ribs.

Blood spills across his chin, yet the grin he gives me carries the same reckless pleasure I remember from our years on the circuit. We both scramble upright, boots slipping in the churned dirt, before he comes at me again.

I catch his shirt, drive him into the chute, and hammer my fist into his stomach. He doubles over, coughing, but I haul him upright before he can fall.

“I’m done carrying your mistakes.”

I hit him again.

Travis staggers, blood running from his mouth, and throws himself at me with a roar.

The damaged chutes groan again as a support beam buckles beside us, shaking the rails beneath my hand. Arizona reaches the fallen knife and kicks it beneath the collapsed panel, but Travis sees her and tears free of my grip.

He lunges toward her, and I catch him around the waist before he reaches her, driving him facedown into the dirt. Travis throws an elbow toward my chin while I force his arm behind his back and put my knee between his shoulder blades.

“You ruined my life,” he says again through a mouthful of dust.

For years I’d believed him. Today I don’t.

His fight weakens beneath me as Emmett climbs across the collapsed rail and reaches Arizona. He checks the cut on her head and runs his hands over her shoulders while Willy helps a deputy lift the edge of the fallen panel to clear the lane.

Emmett gets to her first. Willy’s right behind him. Nobody’s waiting for me to carry this alone anymore.

Hank steps through the gap with two deputies as Travis stops struggling. One deputy takes his free arm while Hank reaches for the cuffs.

“We’ve got him, Red,” Hank says. “It’s over.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Arizona

Red’s arguing with the paramedic before I even make it across the first aid tent. “I’m fine.”

The medic doesn’t look impressed as he reaches for Red’s hand again. “The last three patients told me that, and they were wrong.”

I catch Red’s wrist before he can pull away again, earning myself a grateful look from the exhausted paramedic.

“Emmett and Willy are okay,” I tell him. “They’re helping clear the grandstands, and you’re bleeding all over your boots.”

His attention shifts to me instead of the blood running over his knuckles, and I know exactly what he’s looking at because he’s checked the same places half a dozen times since he dragged me away from Travis.

The scrape across my temple. The bruises creeping beneath my sleeve. The marks circling my neck.

“You hit your head.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

His thumb brushes the side of my neck before he finally gives in, letting the medic guide his hand away so the torn skin can be cleaned and wrapped.