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“But she won’t change her mind about Whirlwind. I just wish I could get her to step into the real world. It’s like she’s living in this Hollywood movie, where the animal saves the day and everybody lives happily ever after. When is she going to learn that life isn’t like that?”
“Learn like you did, you mean?”
“Let’s hope not.” Tess had been planning her wedding when she’d gotten the call from Mitch’s father. She still remembered standing with his family as the flag-draped coffin came off the plane. She’d grown up overnight, and she’d never felt young again.
Callie reached out and patted Tess’s hand. “Lexie’s strong in her own way. She’ll grow up when she has to. Give her time. And give her a chance. For all we know, she could be right about that bull.”
“I hope she is right,” Tess said. “But if Whirlwind doesn’t bring in some fast money, and Tolman still wants to buy him, we might not have a choice.”
* * *
In the living room, Lexie paused to wipe away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Tess always seemed to expect the worst to happen—Lexie understood that, and she understood why. But sell Whirlwind? That would be like selling the house or the land, or even a member of the family.
Struggling to compose herself, she stood in front of the fireplace, gazing up at the family portrait that hung above the mantel. Taken almost a decade ago, it reflected a happier, more innocent time. There was her father—fit and smiling before the slow-moving cancer that had turned him into a shell of a man. Jack stood next to him, handsome and confident, a high school rodeo star at sixteen. And there was Tess at eighteen, her eyes sparkling, her smile radiant with the bloom of her first—and only—love.
Lexie studied her younger self, a gangly sixth-grader with braces, freckles, and dishwater blond hair, still adjusting to her growing body. And Val, a flame-haired, fifteen-year-old stunner, looking as if she were about to bolt out of the picture. She’d always been the restless one, even then.
Only Callie hadn’t changed. She might be a little grayer now, with a few more pounds on her voluptuous figure, but her smile was just as warm, her blue eyes just as bright. What would the family have done without her all these years?
An oval photograph, framed in silver filigree, stood on the mantel below the large picture. Isabel Ashford Champion had been a delicate beauty with haunting gray eyes and a mane of strawberry blond curls. Only Val had inherited her looks. The other children were fashioned in the sturdier Champion mode, with strong features and athletic bodies.
Lexie barely remembered her mother. Sometimes, in dreams, she saw a face bending over her, but it was the face in the photograph—the hair, the makeup, even the dangling pearl earrings. Only a flat image of the real woman.
Tess and Callie would be coming in soon. Not wanting to talk to her sister again tonight, Lexie fled down the hall to her room and closed the door. It was early yet, but she’d been mostly awake for two days. She was exhausted. Even with possible danger lurking outside, she had to get some sleep.
After brushing her teeth and undressing, she opened a screened window, switched on the ceiling fan, and crawled into bed. She’d expected to fall asleep right away. Instead, she lay wide-awake in the dark, the events of the past two days running in a loop through her mind—the fake drunk slamming into the fence; Shane Tully rushing to the “rescue,” then proceeding to charm information out of her; Cory’s body lying broken in the dust; Rianne weeping in the hospital; Shane there, walking her to her truck, still working his charm—and she, still resisting.
At the end of the week, she’d be driving Whirlwind to Albuquerque for his first PBR event. Would Shane be there? Would he be up to his old tricks, pushing his boss’s agenda? What would she do if she saw him again?
But Shane was the least of her concerns, Lexie reminded herself. The most important thing was making sure Whirlwind was in prime condition to rack up points from the judges.
Drifting now, she thought of the threat to the ranch. What if she’d kept the note and alerted Tess right away? Could they have averted the terrible loss of a young bull? Was the tragedy her fault?
Lexie hadn’t gone to view the awful scene in the arroyo. She couldn’t even imagine the strength it had taken for Tess to stand on the rim, aim the rifle, and put the poor animal out of its misery. But she would always remember the sight of vultures gathering in the sky overhead, circling lower and lower . . . .
With the image of black wings floating in her mind, she drifted into a sleep so sound that even the distant rumble of thunder failed to wake her.
* * *
Early Friday morning of that week, Lexie and Aaron hitched the two-stall gooseneck trailer behind the late-model Ford Ranger pickup and backed it up to the chute.
Loading Whirlwind had never been a problem. The bull had been trained to go up the ramp, and he knew the drill. In fact, he almost seemed to look forward to road trips and the chance to buck. But today, his first trip alone, he was snorting and tossing, rolling his eyes from side to side, visibly stressed. Ruben, who was helping, had to touch his flank with the Hot-Shot—a low-voltage taser for handling large animals. The slight jolt sent him bolting into the stall.
Lexie was worried about him. Bulls were a lot like high school boys. Some got along. Others didn’t. Friends were comfortable hanging out together. Rivals would fight. Animals that didn’t fit in would be, literally, bullied out of the group. Whirlwind was the dominant bull among the mature buckers that the ranch took to rodeos, and he knew his place. But there could be no telling how he’d behave without his companions.
“What if he won’t buck?” Lexie voiced her concern over breakfast that morning. “That’s been known to happen, when a bull is feeling out of sorts.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” Ruben spooned black beans over his scrambled eggs. “The new trailer and the bigger crowds will take some getting used to. But once he gets in that arena, with a cowboy on his back, it’ll be business as usual.”
Ruben had recruited his son-in-law, Pedro, to help him drive four other bulls to Flagstaff. The younger man sat next to him, eating quietly, his gaze lowered.
Lexie wished silently that Ruben could be the one going with her. Aaron, who’d jumped at the chance to go along, was good with the truck and could repair almost anything. But he didn’t know much more about bulls than he did about the few steers he raised. And Lexie couldn’t imagine what they’d find in common to talk about.
Aaron glanced up at Callie as she bent over the table to replace the empty coffee carafe. “Will you ladies be all right here?” he asked.
“We’ll be fine.” She paused behind his chair. “We haven’t had anybody come onto the place since that gate was opened. If we do, the boys will be here, and Tess is a dead shot.” She chuckled. “Me, I’m pretty handy with a broom, or that poker by the fireplace. And I can scream to high heaven. So put your worries to rest.”
“Don’t worry about your place either, Aaron. We’ll take care of everything.” Tess had finished her breakfast. Rising from her chair, she gathered up her empty dishes to take to the kitchen before going outside to check the trailers and see the bulls off.
