Page 40 of The Cowboy's Christmas Baby
A hush fell over the crowd. Dana’s screams replayed in Tate’s head. Pressure built with the intensity of a corked, boiling kettle against the top of her skull. Seconds dragged into an eternity before the signal came that the men were fine. Loud victory music boomed from the speakers.
Tate couldn’t stand another minute of it. Her head continued to pound.
“The noise level can’t be good for a baby’s ears,” she said to Miles’s mother. “I’ll take Iris back to the bunkhouse.”
Helen looked surprised but didn’t argue about it as Tate gathered Iris’s diaper bag and stroller and left.
*
Miles
Miles loved everythingabout competition. He loved the vibe from the crowds. The music. The food in the concourse. He’d grown up on that stuff.
And he was pleased with the way the day had progressed. He could—and would—build this rodeo into something the town could be proud of, not just the Endeavour. He’d put Grand on the pro rodeo map.
He pulled on his glove and adjusted his helmet, making extra sure of the fit. He gathered his rope and reined in his eagerness. He was riding for show, and he’d give the crowd one, but he had to get his head in the right place and keep it there until the ride was over.
He climbed the rail and hovered over the bull in the chute, careful not to let his legs get pinned if it fought. He’d drawn Prince Charming, the oldest and toughest competitor, which made him happy, but he suspected Ryan had rigged it. Prince Charming knew what he liked and what he didn’t. He did not like the flank strap and he liked riders no better.
But he was a season or two past his prime and he wasn’t known as a twister. Miles was going to see what he could do about that. He settled onto the bull’s back, sensing his mood through the flinching and twitching of muscles. He gave a nod to Levi Harrington, who was manning the chute, and Levi opened the gate.
Prince Charming exploded, but from the second Miles got on his back, he was in charge. His free arm went up. He had the bull rope in his gloved hand under control. His seat was well-balanced, and he moved as if he were an extension of the bull. He had eight seconds to whip up the crowd and give them what they’d paid for, so he gave Prince Charming a light nudge with his spurs.
Prince Charming’s response surpassed expectations. His hind end gyrated to the left in an attempt to join up with his front. Miles had made an accurate guess as to the direction he’d spin, so when a horn nicked his knee, he was ready for it. The bruise it left behind would be nothing.
The whistle blew. Miles hit the ground running, dodging flying hooves as he made a dash for the rails so the bullfighters would have room to work. Then, it was over. The bull trotted back to the pens and the gate closed behind it.
Miles threw his arms in the air and soaked up the appreciative roar of the fans. This was the most fun he’d had in months, and he’d loved every one of those too-brief eight seconds. The best part of the whole ride was having Tate here to see it. The way her eyes lit up when she looked at him was worth more than cheers for a has-been from strangers.
He scanned the bleachers where she sat with his parents, hoping to witness her excitement for him firsthand, but her seat was empty. A little of his pleasure trickled away, replaced by a thin layer of disappointment. Where was she? Had she missed his ride?
He’d have to sort it out later. Until then he had interviews to field, a few photos to pose for, and autographs to sign. There would be a quick debrief with his boss as to how the bull riding event went since it was the highlight of the day and what the ranch was focused on.
It was an hour before he made it into the bleachers and found his parents patiently waiting for him. They were used to the routine and knew to let him come to them, but they weren’t who he looked for this time.
“Where’s Tate?” he asked, then panic hummed in his head because Iris wasn’t here, either. What if something had happened to her? “Where’s Iris?”
“Iris is fine,” his mother said. “I would have dragged you off that bull myself to let you know if she wasn’t. Tate took her to the bunkhouse to get her away from the noise. She thought it was too much for a baby.”
That made sense, except he’d begun to think Iris was hard of hearing because of her ability to sleep through the confusion of everyday life at the ranch house.
“Tate seemed a little off, though,” his mom added. “She’s not coming down with something, is she?”
His dad shot him a sharp, questioning,what-the-helllook over his mother’s head.
“She’s not pregnant, Dad.” He’d be years living that down. “I’ll go check on them. Enjoy the rest of the show.” He’d learned his love for the sport from his parents and they’d come all this way. There was no need for them to miss any of it.
The barrelman, dressed up as Santa, with ponies in antlers hitched up to his sleigh, raced his makeshift reindeer around the arena while tossing out candy to the crowd. The high school cheerleading squad was also scheduled to perform, and after that, a local country singer who’d been making a name in Nashville for himself.
Getting out of the arena was no easy task.
“Miles!” a woman called out.
He turned automatically to have a camera thrust in his face. Great. Another reporter, right when he was in a hurry. But the public was his bread and butter, so he pulled out his famous smile, slapped it in place, and prepared for the usual questions.
“Was it difficult, getting back on a bull?”
“Most natural thing in the world,” he replied.
