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“I’ll do it now.” Lexie picked up the pottery mug, downed the contents, and pulled a face. “Satisfied?”
“That’s my girl.” Val gave her a smile, walked down the hall and out onto the porch. She loved her sister and the baby, but her own memories were tearing at her heart.
Sinking into a chair, she gazed across the pastures, green with spring, sloping upward to the rimrock along the skyline. The bulls grazed beyond the high steel fence. A hawk circled in the distant sky.
Her child wouldn’t be a baby anymore, she reminded herself. He’d be a growing boy with fiery hair like her own and, perhaps, Casey’s ready smile. If her father had welcomed her home, she would have raised her son here on the ranch. By now he would be helping with chores, riding horses, and learning to rope. He would be surrounded by family who loved him—and maybe even a father.
Instead, she’d let him go to a life she and Casey couldn’t share. She could tell herself that her son was safe and happy, and that Casey would come to find peace with the decision she’d made.
But today, nothing felt right.
* * *
Casey had missed his bullfighting teammates, Joel Hatcher and Marcus Jefferson. Catching up with them over prime rib dinners at their favorite Tucson steak house sharpened the need to get back into the arena and do his job.
“So how’s the ankle?” Marcus asked. “Are you going to make it to the finals?”
“I hope so. The pain’s gone, and I’m walking fine. As soon as the doctor clears me, I’m there.”
“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Joel said. “Just make sure you’re fit to dance at my wedding in June. And bring that hot redhead you keep hidden away. We haven’t seen her since Vegas.”
“Val doesn’t like watching me work. She’d be happy if I quit. But then I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” Casey hadn’t told his friends about the latest rift with Val over his search for their son. For now, he would keep that story to himself.
“Marcus wants to try freestyle after the finals,” Joel said. “Maybe you can talk him out of it.”
“Marcus is insane,” Casey said, welcoming the change of subject.
“Hey,” Marcus said. “Freestyle bullfighting’s the ultimate rush. Take bucking bulls—they just want to toss their rider, maybe knock him around some, before they trot out the gate. But those black Mexicantoros—they’ve got horns like daggers, and they’re bred to kill. Out there in that little arena, you’re facing your own mortality, man.”
Casey had seen a couple of freestyle bullfighting events—a lone, unarmed bullfighter competing against the kind of bull whose ancestors had battled matadors to the death. For the bullfighter, the aim of the sport was to play tag with the bull, showing off his agility for points without getting gored and trampled. The bull’s aim was to kill.
“The money’s pretty good—especially if you’re high point man,” Marcus said. “Maybe you should try it, Casey.”
“Not me,” Casey said. “I’m too old and slow.” And that was true, he realized. When he stepped into the arena with his team, he wasn’t doing it for a thrill. His goal was to protect the bull rider. It was a job, like being a paramedic or a firefighter. He still enjoyed it, but he’d long since gotten past the youthful adrenaline rush.
“Have either of you given much thought to what you’re going to do when you can’t dodge bulls anymore?” he asked, wondering aloud.
“Hell, I don’t plan to live that long,” Marcus joked. “I plan to go out with a bang, at my peak, and give all the women something to cry about.”
“My girl’s already after me to quit,” Joel said. “When we have kids, she wants me around to be a dad to them, not on the road somewhere getting my ass kicked by a two-thousand-pound bull. Her family’s got a ranch. I’ll probably end up there—maybe raise some bulls and hope for a winner. What about you, Casey?”
“That depends.” Casey downed the last of his Corona. What plans did he have? Marry Val and leave her to go on the road? Get a job as a trainer or judge? Go to work for the Champions? “I guess I’m going to have to think about it,” he said.
The meal was ending. He checked his phone. There was a text message from Seegmiller, the detective he’d hired.
News. Call me.
Casey’s pulse leapt. But he didn’t want to make the call here, in a noisy restaurant with his friends. And he didn’t want to make it driving in evening traffic. He needed to be home.
“Sorry, urgent business,” he said, excusing himself. “I’ll see you at work—soon, I hope.”
Driving back to the condo, Casey willed himself to stay calm. Seegmiller’s news was probably just another clue or rumor. But what if it was more—what if he’d actually found his son’s family?
Matthew, or maybe Matt.The boy had a name now. He was becoming more solidly real in Casey’s mind. Just to know who and where he was, maybe see him from a distance, was all he could ever hope for. But even that would mean everything. He had a son. He was a father.
If only he could share what he knew with Val.
He pulled his pickup into the covered parking area, climbed out, and raced up the outside stairway to his condo. Inside, without bothering to turn on the light, he sank into a chair and made the call.
