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“Don’t you dare play that card with me, Brock Tolman! I love you, too, but if you think that’s going to change my mind, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m staying until my bulls have bucked. And if he comes after me, so help me, I’ll kill the bastard myself!”
“You won’t have to.” He caught her in his arms and held her close. “I’m going to be right next to you the whole time, with my gun in plain sight. If he makes a move, and I recognize him, he’s a dead man.”
She pulled away and looked up at him. “That’s the trouble. We don’t know what he looks like. We don’t know anything about him.”
“We know how he acts. Staying invisible is part of his game. He doesn’t want to be identified in any way, which is probably why he killed Jim. Our safest bet is to stay where there are people—in the pens and around the bucking chutes, where strangers won’t be allowed. We know he’ll have his eyes on us. But if he can’t get to where we are without showing himself . . .” Brock’s mouth tightened.
“He could still shoot.”
“He could. But that doesn’t sound like his style. A gunshot would draw too much attention. That’s the one thing in our favor. He’s a professional. He doesn’t want to do anything that’ll get him seen and caught.”
“So how can we possibly know him?”
“Unless he gives himself away, we can’t. So we’ll need to keep a constant lookout and check our vehicles before we touch them. Damn it, I still wish you’d take your bulls and leave now. It’s not too late.”
“I’ve told you where I stand.”
“Then heaven help us both. We’re going to need it.”
* * *
They ordered pizza from room service and ate it in front of the TV. Neither of them had much appetite, but they wouldn’t get another chance to sit down and eat before the rodeo was over.
There was no more word about the death at the arena. The news channel had already moved on to other stories. “It could be a day or two before the folks at the crime lab figure out that Jim was murdered,” Brock said.
“They should be able to tell that from the absence of needle tracks,” Tess said. “But if they’re backlogged, a supposed druggie might not be high priority.”
“I’ll give the police a call tomorrow and let them know that he worked for me. One way or another, that fact’s bound to come out. Best if it comes from me. I’d do it now, but they might call me in. I don’t want to be delayed at the station when I need to be with you.”
“Will you tell them his real name?”
A beat of silence passed before Brock spoke. “Probably. How much I tell them might depend on what happens tonight.”
“I promised Ruben that we’d come by after the rodeo. I’d really like to see him before we leave.”
“I know you’re a woman of your word, but that might not be a good idea. If we’re still being tracked, a visit could put Ruben in danger, too. Our murdering friend doesn’t appear too fussy about who he kills.”
She sighed. “You’re right. At least I’ll plan on calling Ruben to give him the rodeo news. Oh, Brock, he didn’t deserve this. Neither did Cyrus. Life is so unfair!”
Sadness, worry, and anger mingled in the expression that passed across his face. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back to the arena where we can keep an eye on your bulls.”
* * *
By the time Brock had checked out of the hotel and driven to the arena, the Tolman Ranch trailer was gone from the parking lot. While Tess waited by her bulls, Brock left her long enough to arrange a replacement for the bull he’d sent home and to check the posted roster.
She felt safe enough in the pens, with security guards at both entrances. The faces of the cowhands and stock contractors were familiar. The chutes, as well, were off-limits to anyone who didn’t belong there. She could breathe and enjoy the show. But somewhere, beyond this small island of safety, predatory eyes were watching. She could sense them, almost feel them.
On her way in, after Brock had checked her rig, she’d picked up the bundle of sage and a lighter. She would have taken the gun she kept in the locked glove box, but he’d discouraged her. He had clearance to carry the heavy pistol he wore in a shoulder holster under his vest. But she had no such permission.
Leaning against the rails, she watched her four bulls. The three experienced animals were calm. But Quicksand was restless, tossing wood chips with his horn, as if he’d picked up on the tension around him. She’d hoped that after a two-day exposure to the noise of a big rodeo—and the fact that the main grandstand was on the far side of the arena, a comfortable distance away—Quicksand would settle down. But something was clearly bothering the big black bull.
Brock returned a few minutes later, as the fans were flocking through the gates and into their seats. “I checked the roster,” he said. “Good news. Cody Barnes will be riding Rocket Man.”
“Great. He’s young, but he’s good. And what about Quicksand?”
“Even better news. He got drawn by Joao Reyes Santos.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic.” Santos, a Brazilian ranking in the top five, had scored ninety-three points on Whirlwind the last time out. “Quicksand could give him a spectacular ride,” she said. “Or even a spectacular buck-off.”Or nothing, she thought, but didn’t voice her fears.
