“Because I’m your brother, and I want what’s best for you.”
“And in your opinion that’s not Dusty?”
“Not by a long shot. She’s after your money, Zach.”
“That’s Chelsea talking, not you. Not that I ever gave a damn what she thought, but after her performance last night, I sure as hell ain’t interested in her opinion.”
“Damn it, I’m not the whipped lemming you and Chad like to think I am. I agree she was out of line. But this has nothing to do with Chelsea.”
“Right,” Zach scoffed.
“She’s not the right woman for you, Zach.”
“You don’t know anything about me, especially not what kind of woman I want.”
“She’s using you.”
“She’s a sweet girl, and I don’t think she even knows how to use someone.”
“Christ, you just met her.”
“So? You and Chelsea knew each other for—what?—three weeks before you were engaged?”
“That’s different. Chelsea’s different. She’s—”
“From the Kennebunkport Beaumonts. Yeah, I know. A nice Yale girl. And I use the term nice loosely. Very loosely.”
Dallas continued. “Where did Dusty go to school?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Did she even go to school?”
“Yeah.” For one year, but Dallas didn’t need to know that.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Then don’t try to keep me away from Dusty.” He cleared his throat. “This conversation is over, Dallas.” He hit End and tossed the phone on his bed. He dressed quickly and headed back to the stock show grounds.
* * *
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Dusty crooned to Diablo. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
The bull was anxiou
s. Dusty could sense it. He had fed on a bale of hay and drunk several gallons of water, and although he should be relaxed after a huge meal, something was bothering him. Was it her? Was it because Zach wasn’t with her?
She knew how Zach would react when he found out she had sneaked in to see Diablo, but she had needed it.
She closed her eyes and concentrated for several moments. Then she walked around to his head and looked into his eyes. “Relax, relax,” she said, trying to soothe him. She began the lullaby, her gaze never straying from his.
She sang it through three times before the bull began to relax. She reached out to touch his cheek. “Yes, that’s a good boy,” she said, stroking gently. His short hair was bristly yet soft. She caressed it, and then held her hand still, continuing to gaze into the animal’s brown eyes. “You’re not such a brute, are you?” She sang again, moving her hand slowly down to stroke his nose. He snorted, but she remained calm and left her hand where it was. Within minutes, the bull’s body loosened, and she saw gentleness in his eyes.
Timidly, she reached out her other hand, but the boom of a flare gun sounded at that exact moment, startling Diablo. He snorted menacingly and shuffled his front paw on the dirt beneath him. Then he bucked his head and pushed Dusty backward. She landed on her behind.
“Damn, damn!” She leaned back against a bale of hay, her rear end stinging from the fall. She cursed the gun that had ruined her connection with the bull, and she cursed herself for not being better able to control him.
Why did I think I could control such a strong, beautiful animal? I can’t even control my own body, my own blood. Damn the bull, damn the blood, damn everything in the universe!