Page 90 of Coming Home Country
“A rodeo?” I couldn’t contain my surprise when we pulled into the dirt parking lot of our destination. “I haven’t been to oneof these in forever.”
Tucker flashed me a smile so wide a dimple popped on his cheek. “Tripp mentioned he was heading out first thing to catch up with the team.”
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Tripp to spend most of the spring and summer traveling around the local rodeo circuit with their bucking horses used in competition. When we were growing up, Jett had been the one carting their horses all over the state. With Daisy off work for the summer, sometimes the entire family—with me included as an honorary member—would tag along.
I would never forget that time Aspen got stars in her eyes while watching the barrel racers and declared that when she grew up, she wanted to be one. Jett had been less than amused. The whole reason he’d moved to the business side of rodeos was because he’d suffered a brutal injury as a bareback bronc rider.
Tripp was the less wild of the Sullivan children and had never once considered competing. He was more than happy to maintain his position in the family business, which kept him out of the spotlight and out of danger.
Tucker helped me down from the truck, but I didn’t make it two steps before he looped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side as we made our way to the ticket booth. He handed over the cash for our entry fee, then guided me through the crowd.
“Hungry?” He gestured to the many food stands lining the walkway.
I shrugged. “I could eat.”
Once we were armed with corndogs, popcorn, drinks, and a funnel cake to share, we made our way into the stands. The roping competition was wrapping up when we sat down on the metal bleachers. Next up were the bronc riders.
“Made it just in time.” Tucker winked before taking a giant bite out of his corndog.
The horses were already in the chutes that lined the corral. They awaited the brave souls who would hop onto their backs and attempt to hold on for eight seconds until the buzzer sounded, signaling a successful ride.
From this distance, I couldn’t tell which ones hailed from Sullivan Ranch, but I eagerly anticipated hearing one of their names called out over the PA system, knowing those cowboys would be in for one hell of a ride. Jett had built quite a reputation for breeding some of the most spirited horses in the state, and as a result, they often landed near the top of the leaderboard—the horse’s performance counting for half of a ride’s total score.
Event organizers paid top dollar to have Sullivan Ranch horses in their lineup, aiming to provide the best entertainment value for their attendees.
The public address announcer’s voice came through the speakers placed throughout the arena, citing the name of the first bronc rider and their assigned horse, Starlight.
I let out a little squeal and bounced in my seat. “I named that one!”
A few curious glances were cast our way, and Tucker explained, “She’s a family friend of the stock contractor.” Then he motioned for them to face forward. “You’re not gonna want to miss this.”
The rider signaled that he was ready, and the gate was pulled away. Immediately, the horse kicked up its hind legs, bucking wildly to unseat the man on her back. He flopped around, trying to remain on horseback, but a split second after his hat flew off, landing in the dirt, and so did he.
There was a collective “ooh” from the crowd, and I winced, watching the thud of his body hit the ground.
Thankfully, the rodeo protection athletes—often referred to as rodeo clowns—on horseback led Starlight away while the ones on the ground helped the seemingly uninjured rider to his feet. There was a disappointment etched on his face, but he’d get a second ride on a different horse.
“Why would anyone willingly do this?” I mused while watching the second rider hold on for dear life.
Tucker chuckled. “Beats the hell outta me. Never thought it was a particularly smart idea, and that wasbeforeI had access to Jett’s medical records.” He shuddered beside me.
“That bad?”
“Who knows if he’d have made it to thirty if it weren’t for Aspen. Becoming a father probably saved his life.”
Aspen was born seven months after Jett officially retired from competition, which also happened to be exactly seven months after his final injury. Learning his wife was pregnant had been enough to scare him straight. His responsibility to his growing family became more important than chasing glory in half-full small-time rodeos.
After the broncs came the bull riders. About halfway through the lineup, the night sky opened up, unleashing a torrential downpour. Shouts and surprised yelps sounded from the crowd, and everyone jumped to their feet, ducking for cover.
Barely able to see past the sheets of water coming down from above, Tucker grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him as we ran toward where his truck was parked.
And just like that, date night was over.
Chapter 25
Tucker
Therainsoakedthroughmy clothes, and a bone-deep chill had settled in by the time we reached my pickup. There was no way either of us would survive the hour-long drive home without getting hypothermia.
