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By the time the second bull had been ridden for seventy-seven points, Shane’s rope had been threaded under and around Whirlwind’s chest, using a hook to bring up the loose end. The tail of the rope had been threaded through the handle, waiting to be pulled and tightened just before the ride. Shane was braced on the rails, ready to mount, when word came down the line. There was a problem in the third chute. Whirlwind would be bucking next.
Shane lowered himself onto the bull’s back. While a member of the crew pulled the rope tight, Shane rubbed it hard to make the rosin tacky and less likely to slip. As Whirlwind tossed his head and tried to slam the sides of the chute, the announcer’s voice blared above the noise of the crowd.
“And now, ladies and gents, we have a change in the program. Coming out of Chute Number One is a rookie bull from the Alamo Canyon Ranch, ridden by Shane Tully, currently number nineteen in world standings. Let’s give a big PBR welcome to . . . Whirlwind!”
Shane locked his gloved hand under the rope handle, palm up. He could feel the tension in the powerful body beneath him, feel the rippling muscles, the pent-up fury, on the very edge of explosion.
He nodded.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LEXIE FORGOT TO BREATHE AS THE GATE SWUNG OPEN. WHIRLWIND exploded into the arena with a twisting leap that looked as if he had invisible wings. He hit the ground with the force of a pile driver, raising dust clouds as he took off again, leaping, kicking, and spinning like a tornado.
Shane rode over his gripping hand, with his back erect and his free arm pumping the air with each jump. His legs, anchored by his spurs, gripped the massive body, his balance shifting with the rhythm of the bull’s moves. Three seconds . . . four. . . Lexie was dry-mouthed. Was he going to end Whirlwind’s buck-off streak?
Come on, Whirlwind, buck him off! She spoke the words in her mind, but her heart was with the rider as Whirlwind went into his blinding spin. Five seconds . . . six . . . Then it came—that subtle change in direction that had sent all the other cowboys flying. But Shane was ready for it. He shifted his weight to accommodate the change. Seven . . . eight. The whistle shattered the air. Shane released his hold on the rope, sprang clear—a perfect landing—and sprinted for safety.
The crowd broke into cheers as the three bullfighters moved in. Still bucking, Whirlwind charged one, then another until a flick of the roper’s lariat sent him trotting out the exit gate, leaving Shane’s bull rope on the ground, where one of the bullfighters retrieved it.
Shane was walking out to meet the man when the judges’ total went up on the board—90.1, a history-making score for a ride on a first-time bull.
Lexie didn’t stay to watch Shane doff his hat and accept the applause of the crowd. When Whirlwind entered the narrow exit chute, she was waiting outside the rails to praise her bull and untie the flank strap, letting it fall from around his hindquarters. With the opening of another gate, he was freed to return to his pen.
Only then did Lexie allow her emotions to break through. Whirlwind’s impressive buck-off streak had been broken by the man who’d almost broken her heart. But he’d done it in a blaze of glory. Brock Tolman must certainly be proud of his prodigy. He was probably congratulating Shane right now and plotting the next move to get their sneaky hands on Whirlwind.
A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Should she find Shane and congratulate him? Or should she just locate Aaron, load her bull, and head for the highway? She’d reserved Aaron’s motel room for a second night, planning to sleep in the truck herself if they stayed, but right now she just wanted to leave.
“Excuse me. Miss Champion?”
Startled, Lexie turned to find a stocky, unassuming man in a battered Stetson standing behind her. He looked familiar, but she didn’t realize who he was until he introduced himself.
“Chip Harris.” He extended a hand. “I was told I might find you here.”
Lexie’s pulse skipped as she accepted his callused hand. Chip Harris was the biggest bucking stock contractor in the country, winner of multiple Stock Contractor of the Year awards and owner of half the contenders for Bull of the Year.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Harris.” Lexie’s voice shook slightly.
“Call me Chip.” He gave her a warm smile. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your bull’s performance. He was pretty impressive out there.”
“Thank you . . . Chip.” It was slightly daunting to call the man by his first name. “I’m Lexie.”
“I’ll get right to the point,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you before anybody else got down here. I’m very interested in buying Whirlwind. My offer’s negotiable, but I’m prepared to beat anyone else’s bid—including Brock Tolman’s.” He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a business card. “My starting offer’s written on the back of this card. If you’re interested, we can make a deal right now. Or you can take your time and let me know.”
Feeling light-headed, Lexie took the card. The front side showed Chip Harris’s name and contact information. She had a feeling that the figure written on the back represented more money than her family had ever seen. But there was only one way she could respond.
“I’m not even going to look at the back of this card,” she said. “I can only tell you that Whirlwind is family. He represents the future of our ranch. We’re not interested in selling him to anyone, not even to you.”
Harris took his disappointment graciously. “Well, keep the card, and call me if you change your mind,” he said. “But let me make you aware of something. Whirlwind’s value will go up or down depending on his future performance. I’m willing to take a chance on him because I can afford it. If you keep him, you’ll be taking the same chance. He could become a superstar and make you a small fortune in stud fees. But if he gets injured or washes out, that’s the luck of the draw.”
“I understand, and I appreciate you
r advice,” Lexie said, slipping the card into her pocket. “I’ll call you if things change.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Harris touched the brim of his hat. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Lexie.”
Lexie made her way back toward the stands, her legs unsteady beneath her. She was sorely tempted to look at the back of the card. But seeing Harris’s offer would only cloud her thinking. Chip Harris had a sterling reputation, both as a businessman and as a bull owner. If Whirlwind had to be sold, Harris would be the ideal buyer.
Not that Lexie would ever sell the precious bull. That was out of the question. But what would Tess say if she knew about the offer?
