That Burke Man

Tim Harley, her middle-aged ranch foreman, was waiting for her by the gate with Bracket, her palomino gelding. He held the horse for her, grimacing as he watched her slow, painful ascension into the saddle.

“You shouldn’t try this,” he said. “It’s too soon!”

“Dad would have done it,” she countered. “Jacobsville was his hometown, and it’s mine. I couldn’t refuse the invitation to accept the plaque for Dad. Today’s rodeo is dedicated to him.”

“You could have accepted the plaque on foot or in a buckboard,” he muttered.

She glared down at him. “Listen, I wasn’t always a cripple…!”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

The sound of the band tuning up got her attention. She soothed her nervous horse, aware of angry footsteps coming along the aisle between the trailers and the arena. Fortunately, before the fair-haired cowboy got close, the other riders joined her at the gate and arranged themselves in a flanking pattern.

The youth competition marked the end of the evening’s entertainment. The money for top prizes had been announced and awarded. The band began to play “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” The gate opened. Jane coaxed Bracket into his elegant trot and bit down on her lower lip to contain the agony of the horse’s motion. He was smooth and gaited, but even so, the jarring was painful.

She didn’t know if she’d make it around that arena, but she was going to try. With a wan smile, she forced herself to look happy, to take off her white Stetson and wave to the cheering crowd. Most of these people had known her father, and a good many of them knew her. She’d been a legend in barrel racing before her forced retirement at the age of twenty-four. Her father often said that she was heaven on a horse. She tried not to think about her last sight of him. She wanted to remember him as he had been, in the time before…

“Isn’t she as pretty as a picture?” Bob Harris was saying from the press booth. “Miss Jane Parker, ladies and gentlemen, two-time world’s champion barrel-racer and best all around in last year’s women’s division. As you know, she’s retired from the ring now, but she’s still one magnificent sight on a horse!”

She drank in the cheers and managed not to fall off or cry out in pain when she got to the reviewing stand. It had been touch and go.

Bob Harris came out into the arena with a plaque and handed it up to her. “Don’t try to get down,” he said flatly, holding a hand over the microphone.

“Folks,” he continued loudly, “as you know, Oren Parker was killed earlier this year in a car crash. He was best all-around four years running in this rodeo, and world’s champion roper twice. I know you’ll all join with me in our condolences as I dedicate this rodeo to his memory and present Jane with this plaque in honor of her father’s matchless career as a top hand and a great rodeo cowboy. Miss Jane Parker, ladies and gentlemen!”

There were cheers and more applause. Jane waved the plaque and as Bob held the microphone up, she quickly thanked everyone for their kindness and for the plaque honoring her father. Then before she fell off the horse, she thanked Bob again and rode out of the arena.

She couldn’t get down. That was the first real surprise of the evening. The second was to find that same angry, fair-haired cowboy standing there waiting for her to come out of the ring.

He caught her bridle and held her horse in place while he glared up at her. “Well, you sure as hell don’t look the part,” he said mockingly. “You ride like a raw beginner, as stiff as a board in the saddle. How did a rider as bad as you ever even get to the finals? Did you do it on Daddy’s name?”

If she’d been hurting a little less, she was certain that she’d have put her boot right in his mouth. Sadly she was in too much pain to react.

“No spirit either, huh?” he persisted.

“Hold on, Jane, I’m coming!” came a gruff voice from behind her. “Damned fool stunt,” Tim growled as he came up beside her, his gray hair and unruly beard making him look even more wizened than normal. “Can’t get off, can you? Okay, Tim’s here. You just come down at your own pace.” He took the plaque from her.

“Does she always have to be lifted off a horse?” the stranger drawled. “I thought rodeo stars could mount and dismount all by themselves.”

He didn’t have a Texas accent. In fact, he didn’t have much of an accent at all. She wondered where he was from.

Tim glared at him. “You won’t last long on this circuit with that mouth,” he told the man. “And especially not using it on Jane.”

He turned back to her, holding his arms up. “Come on, pumpkin,” he coaxed, in the same tone he’d used when she was only six, instead of twenty-five as she was now. “Come on. It’s all right, I won’t let you fall.”

The new cowboy was watching with a scowl. It had suddenly occurred to him that her face was a pasty white and she was gritting her teeth as she tried to ease down. The wizened little cowboy was already straining. He was tiny, and she wasn’t big, but she was tall and certainly no lightweight.

He moved forward. “Let me,” he said, moving in front of Tim.

“Don’t let her fall,” Tim said quickly. “That back brace won’t save her if you do.”

“Back brace…” It certainly explained a lot. He felt it when he took her gently by the waist, the ribbing hard under his fingers. She was sweating now with the effort, and tears escaped her eyes. She closed them, shivering.

“I can’t,” she whispered, in agony.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he said with authority. “I’ll take your weight. You can slide along and I’ll catch you when you’ve got the other foot out of the stirrup. Take it easy. Whenever you’re ready.”

She knew that she couldn’t stay on the animal forever, but it was tempting. She managed a wan smile at Tim’s worried figure. “Don’t natter, Tim,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ve got this far. I’ll get the rest of the way.” She took a deep breath, set her teeth together and pulled.

The pain was excruciating. She felt it in every cell of her body before the cowboy had her carefully in his arms, clear of the ground, but she didn’t whimper. Not once. She lay there against his broad chest, shuddering with pain.

“Where do you want her?” he asked the older man.

Tim hesitated, but he knew the girl couldn’t walk and he sure as hell couldn’t carry her. “This way,” he said after a minute, and led the tall man to a motor home several hundred yards down the line.

It was a nice little trailer, with a large sitting area. There was a sofa along one side and next to it, a wheelchair. When the cowboy saw the wheelchair, his face contorted.

“I told you,” Tim was raging at her. “I told you not to do it! God knows how much you’ve set yourself back!”

“No…not there!” Jane protested sharply when he started to put her down in the wheelchair. “For God’s sake, not there!”

“It’s the best place for you, you silly woman!” Tim snapped.

“On the sofa, please,” she whispered, fighting back a sharp moan as he lowered her gently to the cushions.

“I’ll get your pain capsules and something to drink,” Tim said, moving into the small kitchen.

“Thank you,” Jane told the tall cowboy. It was a grudging thank-you, because he’d said some harsh things and she was angry.

“No need,” he replied quietly. “You might have stopped me before I made a complete fool of myself. I suppose you’ve forgotten more about racing than Cherry will ever learn. Cherry’s my daughter,” he added.

That explained a lot. She grimaced as she shifted. “I’m sorry you took the criticism the wrong way, but I won’t apologize for it,” she said stiffly. “She’s got the talent, but she’s afraid of the turns. Someone needs to help her…get better control of her fears and her horse.”

“I can ride, but that’s about it. I don’t know enough about rodeo to do her any good,” he said flatly, “even though we’re as crazy about rodeo in Wyoming as you Texans are.”

“You’re from Wyoming?” she asked, curious.

“Yes. We moved to Texas a few weeks ago, so that…” He stopped, strangely reluctant to tell her it was because he’d moved his company headquarters there to deal with an expanded market in Texas. “So that we could be closer to Cherry’s mother,” he amended. In fact, that hadn’t influenced his decision to move to Victoria. Marie was no one’s idea of a mother, and she’d been overly critical of Cherry for some time. It was a coincidence that Marie and her husband moved to Victoria from Houston about the same time Todd had moved his company headquarters there. Or so Marie said. “She and her second husband live in Victoria.”

She let her eyes slide over his lean, hard face. “Does her mother ride? Couldn’t she help her?”

His eyes seemed to darken. “Her mother hates horses. She didn’t want Cherry in rodeo at all, but I put my foot down. Rodeo is the most important thing in Cherry’s life.”

“Then she should be allowed to do it,” she agreed, and she was thinking how sad it was that he and his wife were divorced. His poor little girl. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. Her mother had died of pneumonia when she was barely in school.

She glanced back at the man. He’d said they were from Wyoming. That explained the lack of a Texas accent. She lay back, and the pain bit into her slender body like teeth. Hot tears wet her eyes as she struggled with the anguish it caused her just to move.

Tim came back and handed her two capsules and a cola. She swallowed the medicine and sipped the cold liquid, savoring the nip of it against her tongue. If only the pain would stop.