Midnight Ride (11 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Tyler bowed his head and murmured, “Amen.” The word was echoed a hundredfold, from the crowd in the stands to the cowboys down on the dirt in the arena.

The service done, Tyler raised his chin, planted his cowboy hat back on his head, and turned to his brother with a grin. “Gotta love cowboy church.”

“Why? Because it’s quick?” Tuck cocked one brow.

“Yeah. That, and because the food vendors open right after it.”

Tuck shook his head. “You and your stomach. I swear, you’re always thinking about food.”

Frowning, Tyler took offense at that remark. “Hey, that’s pretty funny coming from you, since you were the one complaining just last night about Mom not having anything good to eat in the fridge.”

“Yup, I was. Which reminds me, I’d better fill up here before we leave for home because I don’t imagine that situation’s changed overnight.” Tuck glanced around at the selection of vendor stalls selling fast food and drinks.

“Unless you went food shopping, you’re right. I wouldn’t count on it.”

“God, Becca and I have only been visiting for two days and already I’m dying for something besides all that healthy shit Mom’s been feeding us.” He pressed his palm against his stomach. “I’d kill for a fried bologna sandwich about now.”

“I know there’s the usual. Corn dogs, fries, sausages, but I don’t know about bologna. But even if you could find it, you know it won’t be the same as from that place in Drumright you love so much.”

“Nope, it sure won’t be as good as Joseph’s smoked bologna, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Tyler laughed at the gravity in Tuck’s tone. “That they do, brother. That they do. So, you look at the day sheet? Do you know what bull you drew?”

“Yeah. I never heard of him.”

“That’s because you don’t ride around these parts much anymore.”

Tuck rolled his eyes. “Now you sound like Jace. He’s always bitching I don’t ride enough.”

“Well, it’s true. So tell me. What’s the name of the bull? I probably know him.”

“Fire in the Hole?”

Tyler nodded. “Yup. I’m familiar with him. Good strong bucker. Only been ridden a couple of times and the guys scored real high. Good bloodlines. He’s the son of Hand Grenade.”

“Hand Grenade?” Tuck shot Tyler a look. “The bull that broke my collarbone during the last round of the state finals.”

Tyler smiled. “The very same.”

“Great.” Tuck rolled his eyes. The man had never batted an eye at jumping on the rankest bull on the circuit, but today, he didn’t look happy about his draw.

“What’s wrong, bro?” Tyler paused to look at his brother. In his entire life, Tyler had never known his brother to hesitate. Not while lowering his ass onto the back of a bull or, from what stories he’d heard, when running toward enemy fire while deployed in Afghanistan. “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid of getting on the bull? Uh, no.”

Realization dawned. There was only one thing that made sense. Tyler took a guess at what was wrong. “You did tell your wife you were riding today, I hope.”

“Of course I told her.” Tuck’s brow drew into an unhappy line above his eyes. “I don’t keep things from my wife.”

“Okay. So if she knows you’re riding, then what are you so worried about?”

Tuck hesitated so long, Tyler had to wonder if he was going to answer or not. “Because I know if I come home broke up, I’ll never hear the end of it. She doesn’t love when I ride.”

It wasn’t a two-thousand-pound bull Tuck feared, but a 120-pound woman. Tyler laughed. “That’s what you get for marrying a city girl.”

“Yeah, whatever. When you get yourself a girlfriend who lasts longer than two weeks, you let me know. Then we’ll talk relationships. But until that happens, little brother, you don’t get to judge me or how I choose to handle my wife.”

“All right. It’s a deal, bro.” Tyler nodded even though he could clearly see that if there was any handling going on, it was Becca handling Tuck.

Tuck blew out a derogatory-sounding burst of air. “I just hope I live long enough to see you settle down. You think it’ll be in this decade?”

Tyler’s thoughts turned immediately to Janie, the one woman he definitely would like to spend a long time getting to know better. “Don’t you look so damn cocky. It could happen a whole lot sooner than you think.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Tuck shook his head. “And buckle bunnies don’t count, not that one ever held your interest for more than a couple of hours.”

“There are more women in the world than buckle bunnies, Tuck. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that. Do
you
know?”

“Hey, Ty!” Colton caught Tyler’s attention as he came toward them from behind the chutes. “You better start getting ready. The broncs are coming up right after the opening ceremony.”

“You’re riding broncs?” Tuck asked. “I thought you were entered in the bull riding.”

“I am. I’m entered in three events.”

“Three?” The crease between Tuck’s brows deepened.

“Uh-huh. I’m competing in the bareback bronc, the calf roping, and the bull riding. Sometimes I enter the steer wrestling, too, but only when Justin’s here since I use his horse for that.” Tyler shot his brother a look. “Didn’t you wonder why I brought my bareback riggin’, a roping saddle, and my horse with me? Why the hell would I need all that if I was only riding bulls?”

“Hell, I don’t know. I guess I didn’t notice.”

Not notice? Tuck’s head really wasn’t in the game any longer. Maybe Tyler had made a mistake bringing him here to ride. He was acting like a clueless city boy more than a veteran cowboy with his pro card.

Tyler shook his head. “Come on, big brother. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Colton nudged Tyler in the side. “You do remember your brother was a state champion. Right?”

“Uh-huh. But that was only in one event and it was a very long time ago.”

“I heard that.” Tuck’s gaze cut sideways to them.

Tyler glared back as they all walked. “That’s good, ’cause I meant you to hear, old man.”

“Old man?” Tuck repeated. “I can still whup your ass in the bull riding.”

“Oh, really.” Tyler cocked a brow. “Willing to put a little wager on that?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Twenty bucks I score better than you.” There was nothing Tyler liked better than a little friendly competition.

“How about fifty?”

Tyler laughed at Tucker’s counteroffer. “Fine. Fifty it is.”

Colton glanced from one to the other. “Oh, boy. This is gonna be good.”

“Yes, it is.” Tyler nodded. “Good to put some money in my pocket.”

Of course, he wished they’d be putting a wager on the roping, since that was his best sport. His horse was seasoned, well trained, and well rested. Together, they were nearly unbeatable. But Tyler was willing to take his brother on in the bull riding, even if it was Tuck’s best, and only, event today. No problem.

They turned and walked toward the system of pens and gates the rough stock were run through to lead them into the bucking chutes.

“Broncs, tie-down roping, and bulls.” Tuck shook his head, obviously still absorbing this new revelation about Tyler’s upcoming events. “You know you’re nuts, right?”

His brother should know him better than to be surprised that when he did something, he went all in.

“No, I’m just that good.”

Although when riding a bucking animal that outweighed a man by ten times, being a little crazy didn’t hurt.

Chapter Fifteen

“You should be riding with a helmet on.” Tuck glanced at Tyler from where he balanced on the rails of the chute.

“I will when you do, bro.” Tyler clamped his cowboy hat lower on his head and climbed to the top of the chute next to Tuck’s.

“I told you, I didn’t learn with one. You did.”

“I did, and decided I didn’t like it.”

Colton stood by, shaking his head. “Why don’t you two save all this energy for the bulls?”

Tyler tipped his head in Tuck’s direction. “Tell the old guy in the chute next to me that. I’m young. I got plenty of energy, plus some to spare.”

More than enough to expend some quality energy on female companionship after he rode, though not one of the girls hanging around the arena today had gotten Tyler’s attention. The woman he wanted to spend time with was a long drive away. He wouldn’t get to see her today, but there was always tomorrow, after he had his winnings in his pocket from this bet with Tuck.

Tyler reached into his pocket for his plastic mouth guard and slipped it between his teeth. He glanced over and noticed his brother still messing around in the chute. Tyler pulled his mouth guard out. “Come on, bro. Nod and get going.”

Tuck didn’t answer, but Tyler knew he’d heard him just by the stiffening of his spine. Smiling, Tyler shoved the guard back in his mouth and lowered himself onto the bull. He needed to take his wrap and be ready to leave the chute as soon as Tuck’s ride was done and the arena was clear. The judges didn’t take kindly to riders who weren’t ready and took too long in the chutes.

As he got ready for his own ride, Tyler kept half an eye on his brother. Beneath Tuck, the bull was acting up, bucking in the chute and rearing. Colton hopped up on the rails. He gripped the back of Tuck’s safety vest, poised to pull him out if necessary. One of the stock handlers balanced on the rails on the other side of the chute. When the bull quieted enough, he pulled the bull rope tight one more time and handed it to Tuck, who rewrapped it around his gloved hand.

Tyler heard Tuck’s mumbled “Go!”

In response, the gateman yanked the rope that swung the gate open. It crashed against the rails with the clash of metal on metal, shaking the chute where Tyler waited. Torn between watching Tuck’s ride and grabbing the tail end of the bull rope being handed to him, Tyler tried to do both, splitting his attention. Lucky for him, his bull didn’t act up the way Tuck’s had or there could have been a disaster.

Even though the stock handler helping him with his rope obscured the view of his brother, the cheering of the crowd at the sound of the buzzer told Tyler that Tuck had covered the ride.

Colton jumped up on the rails and leaned toward Tyler. “Damn, that was a good ride. You’re in trouble with the bet, dude.”

He frowned up at his supposed friend. “Thanks a lot.” His response was so muffled by the mouth guard, Tyler could only hope Colton heard his sarcasm.

“Eighty-seven-point-five for Tucker Jenkins.” The crowd cheered louder after the announcer’s revelation of the score sounded through the arena.

It was a good score, and it was going to be hard to beat. But Tyler couldn’t worry about that. He had to concentrate. Focus on his ride. Narrow his world down to nothing but him and the bull. Ultimately his battle was with the animal. Tuck and his score had nothing to do with it.

As he wrapped the bull rope tight around his gloved wrist, Tyler pictured the gate swinging wide. He envisioned the bull turning toward the left as the gate opened to that side. In his mind he saw the bull spinning into his hand, but that was as far as he went. Bulls were unpredictable creatures. This one could just as well back out of the chute as go forward. Turn away from his hand as turn into it. Given that, he counted on his reflexes to react to any change in the bull’s movement.

Tyler laid the tail of the rope across the palm of his hand and closed his fingers. With his free hand, he pounded his fist tighter around the rosined rope. He flipped his chaps out of the way and moved his feet back and forth, ensuring that his spurs were clear of the bull rope so he wouldn’t get a penalty.

That was it. With his feet in position and his weight centered, he figured he was as ready as he was going to get.

He nodded, forcing out past the mouth guard, “Buck ’em!”

As it had for Tucker’s ride, the gate swung open with a clang and the bull took off into the arena. The animal burst out of the gate and spun to the left, just as Tyler had hoped. His free arm held back and high, his chest thrust forward, heels in, toes out, Tyler maintained the position he’d practiced so many times, whether on the drop barrel or a live bull.

The bull dropped low in the front and bucked high in the back, all while spinning to the left. Tyler’s muscle memory took over. Reflexes reigned in a sport where the action moved faster than reasoning and thought could. He broke at the hips to absorb the force of every one of the bull’s moves.

Cockiness took over. Tyler felt it—the score was going to be kick-ass. Higher than Tuck’s. High enough to win this bet. . . . Then the bull bounced on his front legs, led with his head, and reversed direction.

Tyler compensated for the reversal as the bull’s move threw him off center. But the damn animal wasn’t really changing direction. After feinting to the right, he turned back to the left with one powerful move. The next thing Tyler knew, the ground was rushing toward his face. He clung to the end of the rope as he fell, all while the sound of the buzzer cut through the air.

He hit hard, landing square on his shoulder. One hoof struck the ground close enough to his head to knock his hat off. Tyler rolled clear of the still-bucking animal as the bullfighters ran to shield him while he was still down on the ground.

The pain in his shoulder made itself known when he pushed off the ground and ran for the rails.

Pain didn’t matter. Whether he’d hung on for the eight seconds and gotten a score did. Tyler jumped up onto the rail and spun to try and see the scoreboard. Numbers started to appear—scores from each of the four judges—and Tyler couldn’t suppress a grin.

He’d made eight, but the question remained, was his score good enough to beat Tuck? The total flashed on the screen at the same time the announcer said, “Eighty-seven points for Tyler Jenkins. Only half a point separate the Jenkins brothers, and they move into the top two spots in the bull riding with only two riders left to compete.”

“Dammit.” Tyler jumped down and felt the twinge in his ankle when he landed. He ignored it and stalked toward the out gate.

“Hey, Ty!”

Turning at the sound of his name, he saw one of the bullfighters walking toward him, carrying his hat and his rope.

“Jeez, Neal. I’m sorry.” Tyler drew in a deep breath and shook his head at himself. “I’m not thinking. Half a fucking point cost me a bet against my brother.”

The ride home with Tuck gloating the whole way was going to be painful.

Neal grinned. “No worries. I got a brother myself. I understand.”

“Thanks, dude.” Tyler grabbed his rope with one hand. After knocking the dust off his hat, he clamped it onto his head.

“Great ride, Ty.” A stock handler slapped him on the back as he walked.

Tyler nodded. “Thanks.”

It was still half a point shy of being good enough, and he was sure his brother wouldn’t let him forget it. He braced himself for the gloating as Tuck met him at the out gate.

“Your shoulder okay?” Tuck’s glance dropped to where Tyler hadn’t realized he’d been holding his shoulder. The bull rope and attached cowbell dragged on the ground, dangling from his limp arm.

He forced his hand down. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“It was a good ride, right up to the end. I haven’t seen you on the back of a bull in quite a while. You’ve improved. You looked good out there.”

Tyler frowned and tried to figure out what game his brother was playing. Tuck should be acting like an asshole. Instead, he was being nice and giving compliments. It was strange. He didn’t like it.

Colton appeared and interrupted Tyler’s obsessing. “Great ride, Ty. I didn’t think you’d be able to hang on there at the end, but damned if you didn’t. You held on to that rope all the way until you hit the ground.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Which was exactly why his shoulder was hurting.

“You’re both gonna finish in the money for bull riding.” Colton glanced from Tuck to Tyler.

Tyler had finished in the top three for the tie-down roping and bareback bronc, too. Losing fifty bucks wasn’t the issue—the sum was a pittance compared to what he’d won. His competitive streak and the ego attached to it was the problem.

He decided to just get it the hell over with and bring up the subject that Tuck seemed to be avoiding. “You won the bet, Tuck. You’re just gonna have to wait for your money until we get back to the truck. I got my wallet locked in the glove compartment. Or I can give it to you out of my pay envelope.”

“All right. Whenever. I’m not worried.” Tuck shrugged. “Hey, how about I use it to get the three of us a decent meal on the drive home?”

Colton’s eyes lit up. “Sounds damn good to me.”

Tyler knew his older brother. Tuck was not going to win a bet—one that Tyler had made in a rash moment while he was feeling full of himself—and not gloat about it. It was coming, the gloating Tuck was somehow hiding. He felt it, the same way he felt the approach of a big storm blowing in on a summer’s day. It was right on the horizon, and when it hit, he’d have to grin and bear it. That was the price for coming up short.

Tuck turned toward him. “Ty, what are you in the mood for? Steak? Barbecue?”

This magnanimous behavior put Tyler even more on edge. “Your choice, bro.”

“Nope. Loser’s choice. It wouldn’t seem right for me to choose since I won and all. Besides, you’re hurt and I’m not. You should get to pick. Go on. Anything you want.” Tuck grinned.

And there it was, the dig he’d been expecting, but twofold. He was a loser and he was hurt, while Tuck was neither.

Tyler pursed his lips and nodded as a scheme began to form. “All right. I know a place right off the highway, halfway between here and home. We can stop there and eat.”

“Really? What place?” Colton frowned.

“I don’t think you know it.” Tyler dismissed Colton’s question with a warning glare before his friend went and ruined the plan.

Colton picked up that something was going on and nodded. “Oh, okay.”

“Sounds good, little brother. Whatever you want. It’s your money. Or at least it was until I won it.” A satisfied smile tipped up the corners of Tuck’s mouth.

“Yup. It’ll be good all right.” A slow grin spread across Tyler’s face, but he squelched it before his brother got suspicious.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see about collecting my other winnings. You know, from first place in bull riding. Not from that little bet against you.” Tuck glanced at the scoreboard behind Tyler. “And look, Ty. You came in second. Right behind me.”

Tuck smiled wider as he strutted toward the payout window, but in spite of that, Tyler felt okay. He’d get the last laugh. Tuck wanted the loser to pick the restaurant? He’d pick the restaurant and it wouldn’t sound so good to Tuck once they got there.

He’d see how his meat-loving brother who hated all flavors exotic felt about sushi.