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“Easier how?” Their reaction confused him.
“This stays between us,” Jackson said. “But the WPRC is going to announce that they’re opening up a new event at the rodeo tomorrow. You must have heard the rumor. I know LeAnn Keller has.”
“It’s been bandied about.”
“Well, during the MPRC’s event tomorrow, there’s going to be a woman entered in the bull-riding event with you men. She’s going to go last, and it will be a surprise addition.”
“Who?” If it had been LeAnn, she would have mentioned it.
“Well, we would have asked Killer if we’d known she was interested. But this might actually work out better. Have you heard of Muriel Degas?”
Crap.
“Yeah, I know Muriel.” He didn’t know she was a bull rider though. When they had hooked up a year or so ago, she was just doing bronc riding. He had been clear from the beginning he was only looking for a good time for one night. She had wanted more. This had the potential to get real awkward, real quick.
“She’s going to give it her all, and hopefully go the full eight seconds.”
“On what bull?” Tension tightened his shoulders and he felt that familiar sickness in his gut.
“One of mine,” Mr. Hickory said. “I just bought a line of bull stock that I’m leasing to the WPRC. They’re young, three and four years. Most have competed as yearlings. They’re not as tough as the ones you boys go on, but they’d be perfect for the ladies.”
“So where do I fit into all of this?” Dylan asked.
“I wanted an experienced bull rider to assess my new bulls.”
“You’ve got an uncle in this business, don’t you?” Jackson tapped on a few keys on a laptop. “Lou Porter, right?”
“Yeah, I grew up on his cattle ranch.”
“I know your uncle,” Mr. Hickory said. “He speaks very highly of you.”
“He does?” Dylan almost choked on his whiskey. That was news to him.
“He said he taught you everything he knows, and then you left him to ride bulls instead of work on the ranch.”
Now that sounded like his uncle. “I left to be a rodeo cowboy. The bulls were just for fun.”
“You’re familiar with your uncle’s bulls, though.”
Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I’ve ridden them in competition before.”
“I knew when I saw you that you were perfect for this job I have in mind.”
“A job?” Dylan wondered where this was going. “Doing what exactly?”
“Sorting the bulls, keeping your ears out for anything that could improve our profits, that sort of thing,” Jackson said.
“How does sixty thousand a year sound for a salary?” Mr. Hickory asked.
It sounded pretty good. Sixty thousand on top of everything else could be a down payment on a place that Lola could retire to. He could get a new horse too. And if he had a great season, he might be able to start the rescue business up sooner rather than later. He strove to keep the elation he was feeling off his face. He didn’t want to appear too eager, but he was already calculating his first paycheck and where to spend it.
“Can I still compete?” Dylan asked.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with you assessing those bulls,” Mr. Hickory said.
“I can do that.” It would be good to make sure that the women wouldn’t be on dangerous animals. It was a win-win situation. However, it did have the potential to blow up in his face. But he figured he could handle the backlash if it became public knowledge that the women were getting milder bulls than the men.
“I don’t want to put Killer on a killer, if you know what I mean,” Mr. Hickory said.
