Grandpa grunted, giving a curious glance as his shoulders momentarily unclenched. “You’re done riding, then?”
“I will be, at the end of the season.”
The hard frown returned. “No, you won’t.”
The temptation to ride would always tug at him, he knew. But once Tornado was retired, there didn’t seem a point to keep at it. He’d made more money than most bull riders his age, enough to retire if he wanted. He’d loved every minute of his career, but he wasn’t too fond of traveling without Abbie. He wanted them to build a life together, and it helped a whole lot if he was around to do that.
She surprised him last night. He was certain she’d freak at him up on a bull and sprint out of the arena before he could get to the buzzer. He remembered the terrified look in her eyes while he laid almost immobile in a hospital bed for weeks, more broken bones than anyone cared to count.
“I’m going to marry Abbie.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I mean it this time.”
Something almost resembling a smile tried to settle on those straight lips. “She’s okay with you still riding out the season?”
“She’s not crazy about it, but she understands.” Shehadbeen truly excited for him last night. The moment she saw him approaching the stands, she ran into his arms and kissed him in front of everyone, including the flashing cameras allowed into the VIP section at the conclusion of the round. “I want to open a bull-riding school.”
Grandpa scoffed at that idea. “What you want to waste your money on that for?” But the harshness wasn’t as heavy in his tone anymore.
“There’ll always be bull riders, Grandpa. Might as well teach ’em what I know.”
They sat in silence for a bit, the enjoyable kind that had been a myth between them for years. The barn could still use a fresh coat of paint, but Logan would help accomplish that himself.
“Gus has Lyme disease,” he said several minutes later. “Doctor says he’ll be okay. Just needs medication twice a day for an entire month. Abbie’s been watching him. I know you don’t really have that kind of time.”
“I pulled a tick off him last week.” Grandpa sat forward, a heavy sigh releasing. “Should’ve taken him to the vet and let them pull it out. I just . . .”
“No one’s blaming you, you know.”
“You can’t just show up after being gone all this time and try to fix everything.” Though firmness hummed from that tone, the harshness had faded, gone entirely now.
A glance at his phone warned him he was about out of time. He stood. “I wanted you to have options. You took us in when Mom lost the ranch.” He didn’t mention anything about the ranch being converted into a concrete factory. Grandpa obviously knew, and there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent that. Nothing anyone could do now. “I know money doesn’t fix everything, but covering the bank loan was something I coulddo, so I did it.”
“You didn’t—”
“You can do whatever you want with the place. Keep it. Sell it. But at least nowyouget to decide, not the bank.” He hopped off the porch. “There’s still a seat for you at the rodeo tonight if you want it.” But he didn’t wait for his grandpa to tell him he had to work. They both knew he did.
* * *
Clouds hid the afternoon sun as Logan waited his turn to draw his poker chip. The riders, along with the bulls, were all assigned random numbers to determine the order the riders drew, and the bull they’d ride. Logan stepped up, reaching into a bucket to see what fate decided for him.
Twenty-three.
He had to double check the lineup to be sure, because after all this time it just didn’t seem possible.
Tornado.
Handing his chip over so it could be officially recorded, Logan stepped off without saying a word to any other contestants. He needed some space, some quiet.
He took the long way to the VIP stands, slipping behind as many concession buildings and tents as possible. Tonight, they had one set up for VIP guests to dine with the cowboys. But he needed a minute to compose himself before he returned to Abbie and her family.
After all this time, he finally drew the bull that had taunted him for three long years. He’d watched all the video footage there was of the bull. Every ride. He’d wanted to prepare himself for this day. Now his fears of never drawing the bull, never getting a chance to best him, were over.
He wished more than anything that his dad were here to offer him advice. If he got bucked off, he might not get another chance. He didn’t always last eight seconds, but he did more than he didn’t.
“There you are.” Abbie reached for his hand, her warm smile smoothing some of his frayed nerves. “What’s wrong?”
