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“Hey,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “Do you want me to go get LeAnn?”
He looked up in surprise. This was a different Reba than the one who had been outside checking out the bulls. She seemed more at ease and less intimidated by him. Maybe because she was in her element here. Maybe because she sensed he was worried about Lola and she was trying to comfort him. “No,” Dylan said. “I’ll talk to her later.”
“Okay. She has my number, if Lola needs me.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.”
After Reba left, it was all Dylan could do not to sink to the ground in defeat. He had to find a place that he trusted to take care of Lola before she suffered a more serious injury. He needed a new horse fast, if he wanted to keep competing. That meant quick cash.
He had the win from the roping today, but he’d need almost double to get a trained rodeo horse to replace Lola. The only way he could see doing that was getting a bigger sponsorship. His next call was to Dolly Keller.
“Do you still need cowboys for that shirtless calendar?” he asked, hoping that his mother wouldn’t see it.
“Sorry, I’m all booked for next year’s calendar. But I’ll put you on the list for the year after.”
Dylan didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. It still left him in a bind moneywise, but he got to keep his dignity.
“Can I ask why you’re suddenly interested?”
Great. He was going to have to admit to LeAnn’s sister how broke he was. Way to make a good impression. Deciding not to answer directly, he said, “How about sponsorships? I know you’re working on getting a few for LeAnn. Were there any that were looking for someone like me?” Even before the words were out of his mouth, he knew that the answer was going to be no. But Dolly surprised him.
“We-eell,” she drawled out. “I could try and spin you and LeAnn as the next ‘it’ couple of the rodeo.”
“Really?” he said, wincing. That was almost as bad as the shirtless calendar. He didn’t like everyone in his business. “I don’t think LeAnn would go for it.”
“She will,” Dolly assured him. “Better you than Mick.”
“Wait, what?” What the hell did that asshole Mick have anything to do with?
“Don’t worry about it. Let me put something together and get back to you guys. It would help if you have a really big win in San Antonio next week.”
Dylan looked down at his phone and fiddled with it until San Antonio’s bull roster came up. Each rodeo, the bull riders chose five bulls that they were willing to ride. The names went into a drawing and were assigned to the riders. Sometimes you got your first choice, sometimes your last. And sometimes, you were the only one who wanted a bull.
One bull remained unchosen this round. Fever Dream was a son of a bitch. He should know. He was one of his uncle’s best bulls. No one wanted to ride that damn beast. He had never held a rider on his back for eight seconds. Many cowboys had tried him, Dylan included. All of them had landed on their ass or worse within a few seconds. Fever Dream would be a high-scoring bull…if Dylan could stay on.
It would send his ranking into the stratosphere and maybe even attract a sponsor that Dolly could hook him up with.
“Tell them to watch me this Sunday. I’m going to win by riding a bull named Fever Dream. He has a one-hundred-percent career buck-off.”
“Impressive. If you can do it, it’ll make my job a lot easier,” Dolly said. “We’ll talk about this later.”
After she hung up, Dylan wondered just what he’d gotten himself into. Shaking his head, he went over to where his uncle’s bulls were being penned. Sure enough, Fever Dream was giving anyone who came close to the fence a menacing bump. He was a white bull, heavily muscled with black spots on his flanks. Lunging at him, Fever Dream crashed into the metal fence and pawed at the ground.
“I’m coming for you,” Dylan said to him, but Fever Dream didn’t seem too worried.
He watched the bull pace back and forth and remembered their rides. This bull was not going to make it easy for him. Dylan would have to review some of the other riders’ experiences and see if he could come up with a strategy. But right now, he needed to finish assessing Hickory Livestock’s bulls for the women riders in San Antonio.
When he called in the results to Mr. Hickory, Dylan told him that he was planning on riding Fever Dream next week.
“You’re going to have crappy odds,” Mr. Hickory said thoughtfully.
“That’s why I’m going to surprise a lot of people when I win.”
“You sound confident.”
Dylan had to be, because if he allowed a moment of doubt, it would eat away at him. “He’s my uncle’s bull. I’m familiar with his tricks.” Sure, he’d been thrown every time he had been on him, both on and off the circuit, but Dylan had the bull’s number now. He could beat him.
