At the same time the cowboy turned and walked away, rodeo officials on horseback raced to the center of the arena and crowded around the downed calf.
Bill watched as rodeo officials loosened the rope from the calf’s neck, covering its eyes and easing its legs to the ground.
“What happened?” he asked Clancy.
“Looks like the rope’s knot landed square on the back of the calf’s neck. The force of the horse’s stop flipped the calf upside down and directly onto its spine. It’s called a jerk down. And it’s a move that was explicitly banned years ago.”
“What are they doing now?”
“They’re sedating the calf to get it out of the arena.”
Bill wanted to believe Clancy, but the calf didn’t look sedated, it looked dead. No cowboy ever wanted to see an animal of any kind hurt in rodeo. Regardless of whether it was hurt, or dead, Bill was devastated.
“I’m out.”
Clancy turned away from watching the vets work on the calf, and looked straight at Bill. “You’re quittin’?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
Clancy nodded his head, walked over to one of the officials, and then led Cisco out of the arena with Bill still in the saddle. As he passed Dottie in the stands, he almost couldn’t bring himself to look at her. When he did, he saw she had her head in her hands, and she was crying.
What had begun as one of the best days of his life had sunk into a horrible nightmare.
11
When she went back inside, no one seemed to have noticed she and Bullet were gone. Rather than sitting in her seat at the table, she began clearing dishes. Soon Liv joined her.
“Everything okay?”
She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m more tired than I thought,” Tristan finally admitted. “And ready to go home.”
Liv rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you stay. It’s just that I love having you here. If you promise to come back soon, I’ll promise not to be so selfish next time.”
“It isn’t that.” She smiled at Liv’s apology. “I really am tired. But I’m also glad I stayed.” For the most part. Liv didn’t need to know what had happened with Bullet on the porch.
She heard the front door open and close, but refused to turn around to see if it was Bullet. Instead, she excused herself and went downstairs to pack.
Bullet crept back inside and saw Tristan all but run downstairs. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her. He could hear her milling around in the guest room. He approached the door several times but couldn’t bring himself to knock. He felt terrible about what had happened, and wished he could find a way to tell her so.
What could he say, though? That she was more than just a lay to him? That ought to go over well. He’d tell her things had gone too far. That her friendship was what was important to him, but he’d be lying, and she’d know.
He wanted her, then and now. He rested his hand against the door, willing her to open it and let him in.
The next morning, they got the broncs loaded into the trailers and were close to ready to leave. When Bullet packed Grey’s bag, his son had a temper tantrum, lying on the floor, kicking his feet, and crying. Clearly, Grey didn’t want to leave. If Tristan hadn’t left an hour earlier, he wouldn’t have wanted to either.
Before she left, he couldn’t decide whether to try to talk to her or stay out of her way. He finally decided on the latter. If she wanted to talk to him, she’d know where to find him. She hadn’t.
“Hey, bro—” Lyric slapped him on the back and scared the crap out of him.
It was something she used to do when they were little. She’d tell him he should practice “feeling her presence,” so he wouldn’t be startled when she came up behind him. He figured that was a load of crap, and she did it because she liked to see him jump out of his skin.
“What happened with you and Tristan last night?”
“Why? What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything, but the two of you avoided each other all morning.”