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LeAnn’s jaw dropped. She’d been shamelessly listening in.
An icy cold rage gripped him before the towering inferno of his anger burned through him. “He wanted LeAnn to wreck.”
“Did you know about the bet?”
“Yes, but I would never attempt to fix the outcome of a bull ride.”
“I believe you,” Mr. Blevins said. “That’s why I’m only suspending you for thirty days instead of banning you for rest of the season.”
“Thirty days?” Dylan said, his stomach dropping to his feet.
Blevins hung up before he could say anything else.
“I’m so sorry,” LeAnn said with a hand on his arm.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” He dialed Mr. Hickory’s number.
“I was just about to call you, son.”
“Did you drug up Kingmaker?” he asked, not caring about his winnings.
“I shouldn’t have bet against LeAnn. Oh, you’re fired, by the way.”
“What?” Dylan barked.
“But so am I so don’t take it personally. It was nice working with you.”
And then Mr. Hickory hung up on him as well.
“Dylan?” LeAnn said. “Are you all right?”
He took a deep breath. He had enough winnings to get him through the thirty-day suspension. He had been counting on Mr. Hickory’s salary to get him through the season, though. “I need a minute.” Rubbing a hand down his face, he said, “Still no word about Mick.”
“Dolly doesn’t know anything about him either, but she says that Shelby Miller is calling a Zoom meeting for all the WPRC bull riders in five minutes. Let’s go to your truck so we can have some privacy.”
They sat in tense silence waiting for the call to start. Dylan did some grim number crunching. He could travel with LeAnn for the thirty days. Or he could try and get a part-time job to fill the time. But he’d need a place to stay that wouldn’t cut into his savings. This was a nightmare. He scrolled through websites on his phone trying to find the most cost-effective solution. Dylan had a line on a temporary ranch hand position in Oregon when the Zoom call started.
“Thank you for dialing in, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Shelby Miller, the CEO of the WPRC. It’s been a long day and I’ll be brief. Luke ‘Mick’ Mickleson has sustained a concussion and has broken his collarbone and three ribs. He’s in stable condition.”
LeAnn sagged in relief, as Dylan closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He didn’t like the son of a bitch, but he was glad he wasn’t dead.
“The bull that Mick was riding on was one of Hickory Livestock’s bulls. Kingmaker was drugged with a substance to make him aggressive. Mick shouldn’t have been on that bull. His bull was Templar. LeAnn Keller should have been on Kingmaker today. We’re investigating the mix-up. Based on our preliminary findings, we can conclude that someone was trying to sabotage the women’s bull-riding event.”
There was cross chatter going on and a lot of swearing. Shelby let it continue for a few minutes before interrupting. “The safety of our athletes is paramount. So until further notice, the WPRC has decided to scrap the bull-riding event.”
“No!” LeAnn shouted, and she wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry,” Shelby said. “We’ll revisit it at another time, perhaps next season.”
“That’s not fair,” LeAnn said. “We’ve all worked too hard. This is a security issue, not a rider issue.”
But Shelby had already signed out of the call.
“This is bullshit.” LeAnn tossed her phone on the seat in fury.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said, relief making him say things without thinking them through.
“How can you say that?” Her eyes filled up with tears. “Why doesn’t anyone believe in us? We can ride bulls just like the men can. Why are we being punished because someone got greedy and wanted to manipulate the outcome?”
