Lexie forgot to breathe as Machado lowered himself onto Whirlwind’s silvery back and settled into place. After the rope had been rubbed and pulled tight, he wrapped his glove, checked his position, and nodded.
Whirlwind flew out of the open gate. At the top of his bounding leaps, he arched like a cat, coming down with a body twist at the bottom. Once . . . twice . . . then a shift in direction, like the subtle click of a gear, and a drop into a sudden spin. Machado wasn’t ready for the surprise. With two seconds left on the clock, he lost his hold and was pitched off onto his side. He scrambled for safety as the bullfighters closed in to herd the bull into the exit.
Lexie was jumping, cheering wildly. Whirlwind had just bucked off the number three rider in the PBR. The bull’s score: forty-five points.
Casey caught Lexie’s eye and gave her a grin. She returned a thumbs-up before hurrying to the inside chute to unfasten her bull’s flank strap and release him back to the pen.
“Good boy! You did us all proud!” She scratched his ear, opened the narrow gate, and watched him trot back to the pens.
“I see you still haven’t sold him.” The deep voice, coming from the shadows behind her, made Lexie’s nerves clench. She forced herself to turn around and confront Brock Tolman.
“If you’re still wanting to buy my bull, Chip Harris is in line ahead of you,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter, because Whirlwind isn’t for sale.”
He loomed over her, a confident smile on his face. “How much did Harris offer you? I’ll beat his price by twenty percent. Hell, make it thirty percent.”
“Didn’t you hear me? Whirlwind isn’t for sale. Not at any price—and especially not to you. So get out of my face and stay away from my bull—and our ranch!” Lexie turned away and strode off before he could reply.
As she headed for the stands, she could hear him laughing. “Tell Shane I said hello,” he called after her. “Tell him I said he’s welcome to come back anytime.”
You don’t own him anymore!
Lexie was tempted to fling the words at him. But she’d only be wasting her breath. All she really wanted was to get to her seat so she could watch Shane ride.
She hadn’t seen Shane all day, but she’d known better than to look for him. Riding a bull involved as much mental focus as physical strength and balance. He didn’t need a woman distracting him from that focus.
She hadn’t seen any posted results of the draw, either, although she’d looked for a list on her way to the bucking chutes. But since Shane’s ninety-point ride on Whirlwind had boosted him in the rankings, he was bound to be in the draw for the most challenging bulls. The one he’d drawn would be a surprise to Lexie. She could only cross her fingers and hope for another great ride—or at least a safe one.
Lexie’s seat along the side gave her a view of the bucking chutes. Her pulse quickened as Shane walked out onto the raised platform and climbed down above the number three chute. Below him, through the barricade of legs and bodies that surrounded the chute, she glimpsed a flash of yellow hide—a huge bull, but not one she could readily name. She would have to wait for the announcement.
As Shane lowered himself onto the bull’s back and began the last-minute adjustments in the rope, the announcer’s voice blared, echoing against the roof of the arena. “Now for the last ride of the night. Coming out of c
hute number three, we have Shane Tully, ranked number fifteen, riding Train Wreck.”
Train Wreck!
Lexie’s throat closed off tight, stifling a scream. Train wreck was the bull whose stomping hooves had killed Jack.
Since Jack had fallen under the bull, Lexie knew that Train Wreck hadn’t been blamed. He’d been kept on the PRCA circuit, where Lexie had lost track of him. Now here he was, carrying memories that slammed into her like the flood from a dam burst. When had the bull been moved to the PBR circuit?
Shane had seen Jack die. He would have known about Train Wreck’s past. Why would he have agreed to ride him?
The questions went unanswered as the gate swung open.
* * *
Shane felt the raw power of bunching muscles as Train Wreck burst out of the chute. He’d agreed to ride the huge, rank bull in the hope of purging Lexie’s nightmares, conquering the demon that haunted her. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea. But he wasn’t thinking about that now. He couldn’t think about anything but staying on the bull and getting a good score.
Train Wreck was a kicker. He turned like a carousel, with those massive hindquarters going up so high that his body was almost vertical, then plunging down with the bone-jarring force of an 1,800-pound boulder dropping to Earth. Shane gripped the tough hide with his spurs, keeping his free arm high as he struggled to match the bull’s weight shifts with his own. The seconds crawled past. He was barely aware of them until he heard the blast of the eight-second whistle and the sound of cheering.
With Train Wreck still bucking like fury, he lowered his arm, freed his gloved hand from the rope handle, and pushed off, springing to the right. The dismount would have been perfect if his spur hadn’t tangled in the rope.
Weighted by the metal bell, the rope dropped off the bull. But the split-second delay pulled Shane off-balance, causing him to land on his side. With the bullfighters closing in, Train Wreck suddenly changed directions. As Shane rolled, trying to protect his face and chest, the rear hooves came crashing down onto his body.
He heard a scream inside his head—then nothing.
* * *
As the roper herded the bull through the gate, the bullfighters and medical staff swarmed over Shane’s inert body. Lexie fought her way through the departing crowed, pushing and shoving, pleading to be let through. By the time she made it down to the chutes, Shane was gone. The fading wail of a siren told her he was on his way to the hospital.