Whirlwind (The Champions 1)

“You owe me for one thing.” Shane took a long swallow of the cold liquid. “When she saw through that stunt with the drunk coming on to her, I took the blame for it. I didn’t tell her it was your idea.”

Brock laughed. “Well, it was worth a try. I take it she wasn’t too happy.”

“She said it was a dirty, low-down trick. And I agreed with her. Don’t underestimate Lexie Champion, Brock. She’s smart and tough. Nobody’s going to charm her into selling that bull.” He took a moment to give Brock a quick rundown of what had happened in the hospital and in the parking lot.

Brock’s eyes narrowed. “You like her, don’t you?”

Shane shrugged. “What’s not to like? She’s got a mind and a heart to go with that pretty face. And the next time you want to try playing her for a fool, you can get yourself another boy.”

Brock laughed again—a sinister Santa sort of laugh, coming from deep in his chest. “Good Lord, you don’t just like her. You’ve fallen for the girl. She’s got you wrapped around her pretty finger—which makes you no use to me at all. So let’s talk about the bull—Whirlwind. What did you really think of him? Is he superstar material?”

“He puts on a great show. But we won’t know that for sure until we see how he does with world-class riders. If he can buck off the likes of J.B. or the Brazilians, or give them spectacular scores if they stay on, then we’ll know he’s something special.”

Brock frowned. “And then, naturally, his worth will go up. You’re talking fifty thousand dollars at least, maybe twice that.”

“You can afford it—but I’m betting the Champion sisters won’t sell. If he turns out to be a top bull, they’ll be able to retire and live on his stud fees.”

“We’ll see.” Brock’s fingers drummed on the arm of the chair. Shane could sense his mind working. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said. “You’re bound to run into Miss Lexie Champion and Whirlwind on the PBR circuit. I’m not asking you to seduce the girl or play any tricks. But if she agrees to sell me that bull, for any reason, and we strike a deal, there’s a twenty-thousand-dollar bonus in it for you. No strings attached. How does that sound to you?”

Shane drained the last of his beer. How could a man walk away from an offer like that? With his old truck as a trade-in, $20,000 would go a long way toward buying the new truck he wanted. But as usual, there was something Machiavellian about Brock’s proposal. He was dangling the cash as bait, knowing that acceptance would plant a seed in Shane’s mind. Anytime he happened to be with Lexie, whether he wanted to or not, he’d be thinking about the money and how to get it.

Brock was, in effect, asking him to sell his soul for $20,000—money he might or might not ever receive.

But then, hadn’t he sold his soul already?

“Well, what do you say?” Brock demanded.

Shane stood, leaving his beer on the side table. “I hope you won’t mind if I think about it,” he said.

“Of course not. Take all the time you want.” Brock rose. “Will you be around for dinner tonight? I’m having some friends over. They’d enjoy meeting a real bull rider, especially one who’s made the top twenty.”

“Thanks, but I’m pretty beat after the drive.” Shane was also in no moo

d to be paraded in front of Brock’s friends like a trained pony. “I’m going to work out and shower. Then maybe warm up something in the microwave and watch a little TV.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll be bucking some two-year-olds in the arena. I’m thinking in terms of the next futurity event. Maybe you can help me pick the best ones.”

“Sure. See you after breakfast.” Shane walked back to his truck, climbed inside, and headed for the small guest cabin, one of several, behind the main house. He owed everything he had to Brock Tolman, including the freedom to ride bulls without holding down a nine-to-five job. But Brock’s manipulation was wearing on him. Maybe now that he’d made the top echelon of riders, he’d be lucky enough to find a heavy-duty sponsor or win enough prize money to strike out on his own. The thought of leaving Brock made him feel like an ingrate. But sooner or later, it had to happen. He couldn’t stay here forever. The toll on his self-respect was becoming too high.

* * *

Brock stood on the porch after Shane had left, watching sunset paint the sky with ribbons of fire. His gaze roamed over the pastures, where the bulls he’d bred grazed on fertilized, watered grass that was emerald green year-round.

Most PBR bulls were supplied by the big-name stock contractors, of whom Brock was one. But it wasn’t unheard of for a world-class bull to come from a small breeder, like the Alamo Canyon Ranch. If Whirlwind proved to be such a bull, Brock wanted him to carry the Tolman name.

Tolman’s Whirlwind. The name resonated in Brock’s mind. He wanted that bull the way other men might want a rare painting, a vintage wine, a luxury automobile, or an exquisite woman.

True, the bull could turn out to be simply good. If that was the case, he would still be a welcome acquisition, bringing a new bloodline into the herd. But Brock had a sixth sense about animals. He’d seen Whirlwind buck as a three-year-old at a futurity event and made an offer on the young bull then. But Bert Champion wasn’t selling. Now that the speckled gray bull was going into his second season, still unridden after twenty-four outs, Brock’s gut, which was seldom wrong, told him that Whirlwind could be the one to carry his ranch and his name to greatness.

Now that Bert was gone and the youngest Champion girl was taking the bulls on the circuit, Brock had hoped that Shane could win her trust as the first step to making a deal. That had been Plan A. Now that it had backfired, it was time for Plan B—impose enough hardship on the Champion family to force them into selling. The plan might involve some skullduggery, but when it came to something he wanted, Brock believed that the end justified the means.

One way or another, Whirlwind would be his.

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER A SUPPER OF CHILES RELLENOS, CORNBREAD, AND FRESH SALAD from the garden, Lexie, Tess, and Callie cleaned up the kitchen and settled on the front porch to relax before bedtime. The men had gone—Ruben to his trailer, Aaron home to the small prefab house on his own land, and the boys to take the first watch of the night.

Lexie ached with weariness after being on the road the night before and staying awake most of the day. The other women were tired, too. But no one would sleep well tonight. The fear that whoever had opened the gate would be back to make more trouble had them all on edge.