“I can add someone to your list,” Bullet interjected.
Tristan had almost forgotten he was there. That’s how she got when she started thinking about business. It consumed her.
“Who’s that?” nudged Lyric. “As if I don’t know.”
“I’m a perfect fit,” he smiled directly at Tristan.
“A perfect fit for what?” He wasn’t seriously suggesting Lost Cowboy sponsor him, was he?
“Come on. Look at me.” He waved his hands up and down his body. “Just think how good your gear will look on me.”
Tristan almost laughed out loud. Yeah, he’d look great in it. All of it. But there was so much more they took into consideration before they asked anyone to wear their brand. She didn’t know much about Bullet, but from what she’d seen so far, he was exactly the kind of cowboy they wouldn’t sponsor.
Bull riders’ bad raps were notorious. Many who competed in other events on the rodeo circuit thought they were arrogant assholes. And for the most part, they were right. Their arrogance was part of what drove them. If they didn’t have their heads one hundred and fifty percent into bull riding, if they weren’t the same percentage confident in their ability to cover their bull, they didn’t have a prayer. It was as much man against himself as it was man against beast. If a rider had an inkling of doubt in the few minutes before he got on the back of a bull, he might as well walk away before the chute opened.
Tristan understood how much Bullet had on his plate. His wife had just died, and he was responsible for raising his child, who Tristan doubted was much more than a year old. What kind of man got on the back of a bull when they were a single parent? One who didn’t embody the principles of Lost Cowboy, that’s the kind.
Even setting that aside, there was so much more. What happened last night told Tristan everything she needed to know to scratch Bullet off her list, not that he’d been on it in the first place.
“Players need not apply” should be stamped on her forehead. Not just for her brand, but for her too. While he tempted her on a physical level, Tristan knew she’d never actually succumb to him. Never.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five, ma’am.”
He tipped his hat when he said it, the one her father would never have worn in the house.
Too old on one level, too young on another. In the world of bull-riding, he was middle-age. If he hadn’t made his mark as a bull rider by now, chances were good he wouldn’t. Her guess was he didn’t have enough time to get to practice pens. He’d never make any of the cuts without practice.
And for her, on a personal level? He was a year younger than she was, and ten years less mature. He was a baby. A baby with a baby.
When she poured the cream into her coffee, her hands no longer shook. Bullet had lost his charm, on a number of levels.
“Sorry, cowboy. I wish you the best of luck out there.” Tristan looked at Lyric. “Give me a half hour to check in with the office and get my notes together?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Tristan went downstairs without looking back.
“I’d say you’ve been dismissed,” Lyric whispered.
Yeah, he sure had, and it stung. He could read the thoughts as they ran through her mind. Not good enough. That’s what it boiled down to. He wasn’t a good enough bull rider for her brand, and he wasn’t a good enough man for her. He saw the light turn off. It was that quick.
Bullet went outside without another word. What had he been thinking anyway? The last thing he had time for was a woman. Even on a temporary basis. He kicked at the dirt, furious with himself for not being able to keep his head on straight.
It was way past time for him to grow up. He had a child, and not just one.
Bullet walked into the barn and started mucking out a stall. If all else failed, a stall always needed mucked.
1961
Instead of staying in the bunkhouse with the rest of the cowboys, Clancy told Bill he’d have a room in the main house with him and his brother. Clancy was building a second house, and when it was finished, he’d move in there. Clive was getting married, and soon his wife would be living on the ranch full-time as well.
Bill figured that was the main reason Clancy’s brother had been looking for a partner in the dude ranch. There were times during the year when he and his mama and sister would rarely see his daddy. Running a ranch was hard work, even if you could afford a lot of help.
As far as he knew, Clancy hadn’t married yet either. “You got kids?” he asked one night, thinking that might be easier to ask than if he had a wife.
“Nope. Not that I know of anyway.” Clancy winked at him.