Page 63 of Catch Me, Cowboy
Pippin blasted out of the chute, his front feet barely hitting the ground before he was in the air again, twisting and kicking. Whoa, shit. There would be no smart ass fanning of the hat on this ride.
Ty hung onto the thick rope rein and leaned back, matching his rhythm to that of the animal, only to have the horse change it up and throw in a spin followed by another twisting kick. Ty countered the movements with his free hand, never broke rhythm, although he tasted blood from biting the inside of his cheek after another jarring turn that knocked him off balance. He fought with everything he had to keep from touching the horse with his free hand as the whistle blew and he surrendered himself to gravity.
Yep. Dirt sandwich, but it was after the whistle and that was all that counted. As he got to his feet he heard the cheers, heard the announcer yelling about yet another great comeback ride, and all he could think was that he needed to get back to Shelby. He picked up his hat from the dirt, waved it at the crowd, saluted Pippin as he loped by with the pickup men in hot pursuit, then set the hat on his head and headed for the gate.
Buck and his dad were waiting for him at the end of the alley. His dad slapped him on his sore shoulder and Buck gave an approving nod. “I think this is all going to work out,” he said.
“Yeah. Hope so.”
“What do you mean hope?” his dad asked in an overly jovial voice.
“Depends on Shelby.” He turned to Buck. “You said I have a day or two. I’ll give you a final answer soon.”
Buck nodded again. “Sooner is better than later.”
“I won’t tie up your time unnecessarily.”
“I appreciate that.”
His dad looked as if he had a lot to say, but Ty cocked a warning eyebrow at him and the words died on his lips. “I’ll see you later, Dad. Buck.”
He reached back to unfasten his chaps, freeing his legs as he walked. His ride had been the last of the night and people were leaving the stands even though the awards would be given in the next few minutes. Always a rush out of the parking lot. Most of the riders were already gone, on to other rodeos or starting long drives home.
He pretty much was home… if Shelby agreed.
She was standing close to the main gate, looking a touch pale. She smiled as he approached, a taut, at-the-edge-of-breaking smile. He reached out for her, drew her close, breathed in the sweet scents of her hair and skin. Scents that somehow mixed so damned well with the arena smells he loved.
“Nice ride,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“Thanks.” She’d sacrificed to be here and now he needed to get her back where she belonged. He eased out of her embrace and took her hand. “Give me a second to collect my gear and I’ll drive you back to the hospital.”
*
Les was asleepwhen they got to the hospital. After a quick look at her stubborn, sleeping grandfather, Shelby spoke at length with Doctors Murphy and Gallagher while Ty cooled his heels on the vinyl loveseat, idly rubbed his sore shoulder, and debated his future. Their future. When she finally joined him, she seemed to be in a better place, which made his heart lighten a little.
“Gramps was totally healthy when he had his checkup with Dr. Murphy three months ago. But he got a blood pressure med for the first time and that’s most likely the cause.”
“Then why hide the dizziness?” he asked as he held the door open for her.
“Dr. Murphy is guessing it’s because he didn’t want to end up in a hospital.”
“He was muscling through?” Ty asked incredulously.
Shelby sent him a look and he had to admit that he could totally see Les doing that.
“He was probably afraid that is he went off the meds, then he’d be a candidate for a stroke or heart attack, just as Dr. Murphy had told him he’d be if he didn’t take the meds. What he apparently didn’t understand is that there are other meds he can take.”
“Remind me not to be that stubborn when I’m old.”
Shelby shot him a frowning look, but he ignored it and opened the truck door for her. She climbed in without a word and Ty walked around the truck to the driver’s side.
He put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, turning north instead of south.
“My truck is still at the rodeo grounds.”
“I know. We’ll get it in a while.”
He continued to the stop sign, then turned onto the side street that would take him to Highway 89 by a circuitous route. Shelby settled back in her seat, her hands in her lap.
