Swinging onto the horse again, she backed away from the trailer’s open rear and uncoiled the rope. The bulls were in a state of panic. They could easily freeze in fear or throw themselves against the side of the trailer hard enough to send the whole rig toppling.
Renegade, the big black, was one of the bulls in the rear. Looping the rope, Tess leaned in as close as she dared, murmured a quick prayer, and flung the rope over Renegade’s horns. With the rope anchored on her saddle, she backed the horse, jerking Renegade’s head up hard. The only way for the bull to relieve the discomfort was to back up, which Renegade did, stumbling out the doors—awkwardly since the ramp was missing. Tess was able to shake the rope loose before he wheeled and thundered down the road toward home.
Bulls were herd animals. The second bull backed up on his own and followed Renegade out of the trailer.
A five-foot steel-railed gate separated the front and rear pens. The two remaining bulls were trapped behind it. To free them, Tess would have to open the gate. But she couldn’t risk getting crushed as the bulls backed out.
Thinking fast, she dismounted and climbed into the trailer with the rope’s end in her hand. The well-trained horse held steady as she tied the rope to a rail and slid back the bolt until it was barely holding the gate closed.
In the saddle again, she backed the horse, yanking the gate open. For the space of a breath, nothing happened—and with the rope tied to the gate, Tess had run out of options. Please ... she begged silently. Please come out.
The trailer creaked and shuddered. With a snort of fear, one bull, the brindle, took two steps backward and paused.
Come on . . .
The trailer jiggled again. The bull backed into the empty space behind him and, half turning, jumped out the rear of the trailer. The last bull, a tan brute in his first rodeo season, followed, leaving the trailer empty.
As the two bulls stampeded down the road, where the boys would be waiting to round them up, Tess sagged over the horse’s neck, sick with relief. She could only hope the worst was over.
With the weight gone from the trailer, Ruben was able to maneuver the truck back from the edge of the road and drive it, slowly, on the ruined tire and the rim, to the top of the pass where he’d have room to turn around. There, he and Pedro blocked the wheels, found the spare and the jack, and went to work changing the tire. Both men looked pale and shaken, but to their credit, they said nothing about how close they’d just come to death.
Once she’d made sure they were all right, Tess rode back down to the ranch, taking the horse at a walk to calm her nerves. That blowout couldn’t have happened at
a worse time or place. What if it hadn’t been an accident?
But how was that possible? The truck had been at the ranch all week, in plain sight. Someone had been on watch every night. There’d been no barking dogs, no uneasy cattle or horses, no unfamiliar tracks.
By the time she neared the house, the bulls had been rounded up and driven into the paddock. There’d be no getting them back into that trailer today. But there was no question of canceling the ranch’s commitment to the rodeo in Flagstaff. Four different, less experienced bulls would have to be loaded for the trip. Maybe it was time to try out Whiplash, the younger brother of Whirlwind. Whiplash, heavier and darker than his brother, was four years old and had done well at some local rodeos. This event would be a good test for him.
As Tess dismounted in the yard and passed the horse off to one of the boys, Callie plunged off the porch and came running across the yard. “Oh, my stars!” She wrapped Tess in her cushiony embrace. “Thank God everybody’s all right. I was already planning three more funerals.”
Tess eased out of her stepmother’s arms. Her knees were so weak she could barely stand. “I think I need to sit down,” she said.
“Come on.” Callie offered an arm to help her to the porch. “Sit down. I’ll get you something cold. A beer?”
“Fine.” Tess sank onto a plastic-webbed lounge chair. She could feel her heart slamming against the walls of her chest. Up there on the road, there’d been no time to think, just to act. Only now that she was safe did she realize the magnitude of the danger and how close she, the men, and the bulls had come to dying.
Callie slipped the cold can of Bud Light into her hand. Tess took a long, deep swallow, savoring the icy chill that trickled down her throat.
“Should I try to phone Lexie?” Callie asked. “She’d want to know about this.”
“No. Lexie doesn’t need the distraction.”
“She promised to let you know when they made it to Albuquerque. You could tell her then.”
“It’ll only worry her,” Tess said. “We can tell her what happened when she gets home.” Closing her eyes, Tess leaned back in the chair, sipping the cold beer and taking slow, deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, she could see the truck and trailer crawling down the steep, hairpin road toward the ranch.
Minutes later, the rig rolled into the yard and stopped by the paddock. As Ruben and Pedro climbed out of the cab, Tess got up and strode out to meet them.
Ruben was not one to show emotion. But she could tell he was proud of her. Gratitude and admiration shone in his dark eyes as he spoke. “After we check the rig and get another spare tire out of the shed, we’ll be loading more bulls. You can let us know which ones to take. But first, there’s something you need to see.”
He led her around to the rear of the trailer and opened one of the double doors. The ruined tire lay where it had been tossed, half detached from the bent and useless steel rim.
“Here’s where the tire blew.” Ruben pointed to direct her gaze. “Take a close look.”
The tire was fairly new—Tess would never transport her precious bulls on unsafe tires. But the blowout hole wasn’t in the tread, where it would be if the tire had run over something sharp. It was in the sidewall.
“See it?” Ruben asked. “Look close.”