Montana Gold

She lost her smile. “And you want a woman in it. Well, that’s not love, either, Chase, honey.”

“We could give it a whirl and find out.”

“Nope. I came over here to tell you something. Let’s sit down.”

He stared at her. “You told Shane he’s not my blood son?”

She seemed startled. So that wasn’t it.

“Not yet. He’s got enough to deal with right now.”

“He’s still clean and sober?”

“As far as I can tell. Thank God.”

“Well, then,” he said heartily, wanting to stave off whatever was so important she’d started at sunup and driven all the way over here to tell him. All of a sudden, he knew he didn’t want to hear it.

But she was going to tell him no matter what he wanted, so he turned two chairs to face each other and they sat. He waited.

“Spit it out. Why’d you come to see me, Andie Lee?”

She held her mug in both hands, carefully balanced on her thigh. The storm gray of her eyes darkened as she held his gaze.

“I had to tell you face-to-face. I’m going to get married, Chase. Blue loves me and, God knows, I love him. He’s asked me to marry him. We’re thinking we’ll elope one of these days.”

Somehow, he couldn’t get his breath.

Blue. He’d met him once but he’d not forget him. Well, damn. The way Andie Lee had looked at him should’ve told Chase what would happen. Right then, he should’ve known it’d come to this.

Big, handsome, quiet, powerful Indian guy. Shane said he was magic with a horse.

God knows, I love him.

But why did hearing her say that tear him up inside? He was just her friend now. He was the one who had let her go years and years ago.

“You’re the only woman I ever loved, Andie Lee Hart.”

It was true. But he knew as he said it that what she’d said was true, too. He probably didn’t even know what love was.

She smiled sadly and reached out to caress the side of his leg with the toe of her boot.

“I believe that, Chase Lomax. And it’s an honor I don’t take lightly. I loved you, too.”

“I didn’t choose my job over you, though,” he said. “I just never was the kind of man to settle down.”

He took a gulp of coffee. He needed some help, and caffeine seemed to be the only kind at hand.

“You’re scared of commitment,” she said. “You had many a year to marry me when I was in love with you and you never mentioned the word.”

“I wouldn’t say I was scared.”

“I would.”

That made them both laugh.

“I took on raising Shane with you. And that’s a big responsibility. It’s a commitment.”

“And that’s only one reason why I will always love you,” she said.

“But you love him more. This Blue character.”

“Yes.”

“Damn. That’s cold.”

“Don’t whine,” she said. “You asked me and I’m not going to lie to you. All you were after all your life was to be a champion and be famous and now you’ve got that and more, too.”

He had no answer to that except for more whining, so he shut up.

“You’re building a home here,” she said. “And maybe someday you’ll give up and give in and ask a good woman to share it with you. Even if you go that far, I don’t know if you’ll ever really let her have your heart.”

He stared at her, then got up and walked to the railing and leaned back against it.

“You’re not a head doctor, Andie.”

“No, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I know you better than anybody else on this earth. Chase, you’ve got to learn to open up and give a little. Let somebody in.”

Hard hurt stabbed him and he let it show in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said sarcastically, “like I let you in.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t. You loved to rodeo more than you loved to be with me. Way more.”

“It’s my job,” he snapped.

“And your wife and your lover. You trust it always to be there more than you ever would a flesh-and-blood woman.”

“I trusted you, Andie.”

“Chase, before I left you, you could’ve married me and still rodeoed. I was in love and I would’ve agreed to that. But the word marriage was never spoken between us. You never tried to hold me.”

He just stared at her, knowing that he looked like a pouting boy, not caring if he did. She wasn’t his lover anymore, granted, but, damn it, she didn’t have to jump up and marry somebody else. She was his Andie Lee.

“You’re the only woman I ever loved and you left me. You left me.”

“Yes,” she said. “I was sick of trying to raise a boy in a trailer meant for a campout. But I stayed until he had to go to school.”

“You know I understood that. From the get-go. I didn’t blame you for wanting off the road.”

“You understood it with your head,” she said, so gently he had to lean forward to hear her. “But maybe your heart’s been locked away ever since your mother left you all those years ago and it didn’t understand.”

He leaned back on the railing. It pressed against the pain in his leg.

“I got over that a long time ago.”

She didn’t argue, she just looked at him. Into him.

“If you open up, there’ll be a woman one day who won’t leave you, darlin’. I hope you can find the guts to let her stay.”

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense, Andie.”

“Think about it,” she said quietly. “You don’t trust women, Chase. And it’s a shameful waste if you let a lonely childhood keep you alone all your life.”

He wanted to throw something, hit something, break something. But he couldn’t even move. He hadn’t tried to hold her, and now she was moving on.

She stood up and held out her cup to him. He took it and set it on the railing next to his, never taking his eyes from hers.

“An ex-con,” he said. “That worries me a little.”

She stared hard at him. “I hope you won’t hold his past against him,” she said. “I’d love it if the two of you could be friends. Shane respects and likes Blue, too, but you’ll always be his real daddy. I don’t intend to let you get out of our lives, Chase.”

He looked at her just as hard.

“I don’t want out of your lives,” he said. “I’m not gettin’ out no matter what you might want. I am that boy’s daddy and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

She smiled and he thought he saw tears in her eyes.

“I want you to know that the first time Shane realized Blue and I were falling in love, his reaction was, ‘Mom! What about Dad?’ He was so shocked.”

“Shane’s always dreamed we’d get back together,” he said. “And I have, too.”

“Sometimes,” she said. “But not very often, I’ll bet.”

She laughed her husky laugh at the truth of those words. They were true. He couldn’t deny it, so he had to laugh, too.

Andie Lee held out her hand to him. “Come on, Champ, show me around this place. I want to see the inside of this fabulous house.”

Chase took her hand. Here she was, the same Andie Lee but not the same. The old lovers time was over for them. His relationship with her was changing, just like everything else in his life. The ground was shifting underneath him yet again, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Andie had wanted to settle down for a long time. He hadn’t been ready yet.

He still wasn’t ready. And before he ever did feel ready, he needed somebody who understood the quest and loved life on the road the way he did. Was there any woman in the world like that?

He slammed the door of his mind on that question, smiled and started to give her the grand tour. A man didn’t get to be a winner by paying attention to whatever he was feeling. Or by worrying about his feelings.

Being a winner was all about one thing: control. Controlling emotions, controlling fear.

If he wanted to be the first man in history to win his sixth bareback world championship and his first All-Around title in the same year, he’d better be working up that head of steam right now. He did want the two buckles. He wanted them so bad he could taste it.

More than he’d ever wanted any woman.

CHAPTER THREE

ELLE KEPT ONE EYE on the dog while she arranged her nail stuff around her on the cushions and arm of the hotel room love seat.

“You’re gonna end up buying that piece of furniture,” Missy Jo said, raising her voice so it’d carry over Johnny Cash’s. She walked to the boom box and turned down the volume.

“I’ve got towels. M.J., what are we gonna do if he won’t eat?”

“At least he’s drinking plenty,” M.J. said. “He’s had a shock and that Texas veterinarian warned you he might not eat. Let’s give him until tomorrow.”

Elle set one heel on the edge of her seat and started putting pieces of cotton in between her toes. “You sound bored with this conversation.”

“I don’t know why,” M.J. said. “This is only the tenth time we’ve had it in the past couple of hours.”

“I’m leaving that kibble in front of him until I get my toenails done and then I’m going to go get some cat food.”

“Good plan,” M.J. said in the same dry tone.

“I’ve never heard of a dog that wouldn’t eat cat food. Have you?”

“No,” M.J. said, “and I have been researching that question every free minute I can get.”

Elle took a second to decide between Bronze Baby and Sandstone.

“Sometimes you make me so mad,” she said mildly. “It is irritating beyond belief trying to worry when you, as my best friend, are always so sure everything’ll automatically turn out all right.”

“Not always. Think about it. I tried to tell you this dog would be trouble.”

“Could we talk about something else?”

She opened the Bronze Baby and carefully dipped the brush in.

“Yeah. Chase Lomax. That’s what I want to talk about.”

Elle kept her head down. She made three straight, steady strokes with the polish to cover the first toenail, and said, “Better not let Rodney hear you.”

“There you go, trying to be funny when all I’m trying to do is help you be happy. Why can’t you cooperate?”

Elle raised her head, threw her hair back over her shoulder, and turned to look her friend in the eye. “I’m happy, M.J. I am plenty happy. Haven’t you heard? A woman doesn’t have to have a man to make her happy.”

Missy Jo came around the love seat and sat cross-legged on the floor so they faced each other.

“R-i-ight,” she said slowly, nodding encouragement as if to a stubborn child, “but you’ve heard that sometimes it’s nice to have something else in your life besides work. Haven’t you?”

Elle dropped her head and painted another toenail. She couldn’t listen to this. Damn. Why hadn’t she told M.J. the truth a long time ago?

Because it’s too scary to say it out loud. What if that truth never changes?

“I haven’t noticed Chase Lomax ringing my phone,” she said. “And I am not a hermit. I had a date in Austin and one in Denver, too, if you’ll bother to remember.”

That torched M.J.’ s famous impatience. “I’m talking about a relationship,” she said, planting her fists on her hips. “A give and take where you really care about somebody and he cares about you.”

Elle put the brush back into the bottle and tightened the top while she cranked up her grip on her temper. She shouldn’t have to put up with this, even if M.J. was her very best friend and, in fact, the only close woman friend she had.

Except for Carlie, of course, who was almost more a mother to her than a friend.

“Why are you into this rant?” she asked. “You know and I know that a relationship doesn’t necessarily mean the guy cares about you.”

M.J. looked stricken and Elle raised her hand in apology. “You and Rodney excluded, of course. What I’m saying is that most of the time it means the woman gives and the man takes and if there ever was a man who’d be worse about that than Derek was, it’s Chase Lomax.”

“I just want you to be happy like I am,” M.J. said, her voice suddenly soft and thoughtful. “Even if Rodney and I don’t get married, or if we do and it doesn’t last a lifetime, I want you to experience this.”

Elle felt terrible because big tears were gathering in Missy’s eyes as she spoke.

“I know you do and I appreciate it, I really do. I just don’t know…”

“What I know,” M.J. said, “is that Derek ruined your marriage, right?”

I ruined it, too. He wasn’t the only one.

“So what’s your point?”

“Just this. If you don’t change your attitude, he’ll ruin your whole life. Here you are, comparing Chase to him when you don’t even know Chase.”

Missy wiped her eyes and Elle tried to change the mood. Somehow, M.J. was making her want to cry, too.

“Maybe you just need to pick a different guy for me,” she said lightly, fanning her toenails to dry them. “Why’re you so hung up on Chase, anyhow?”

When she glanced up, M.J. caught her gaze and held it. “Because I was there. Because I saw you two when you came back off the dance floor. And before that, when Robbie introduced y’all.”

Elle wouldn’t let herself look away, even though the memory was taking over her body again. She was afraid M.J. would see that, too.

“I never saw that spark with you and Derek. It’s a gift, Elle, honey. You should at least see where it goes.”

More of Missy’s truth cutting too deep. Elle wasn’t normally afraid of a little truth. Yet she couldn’t find a word to say.

Missy heaved an irritated sigh, unfolded her legs and got up without touching her hands to the floor. She headed for the door.

“I don’t know why you bother to paint your toenails, anyhow,” she said, throwing the words back over her shoulder like pellets of punishment. “Nobody’s gonna see ’em unless some hateful bull knocks you right out of your shoes.”

WHEN CHASE WAS satisfied with his bind, the way his hand fit into the rigging, he sat down on the bareback horse in the chute. He put his feet on the rails on each side of the chute and rested his free arm on top of it. He flexed his riding arm and thought about the horse underneath him.

She was old and full of tricks, the kind of bucking horse that had grown so ring-wise from being at many rodeos, she was smart enough to hum the national anthem. And she was feeling frisky tonight. At least, that was the definite impression he’d gotten when he petted her before putting the rigging on. Every horse was an individual and he always tried to get a read on each one before he ever got on.

Dawson Rodeo Company was rightfully proud of Full Tilt Boogie. Chosen world champion bucking horse twice and maybe on her way to a third time, she loved to buck more than she loved to eat. He’d drawn her twice before and she’d thrown him both times—once just out of the gate and the other at 7.5 seconds.

Not going to happen again. She was all his this time.

He waited for the horse ahead of them to leave the arena, glad that this new rigging felt right to him. It ought to—he’d worked it over when it arrived and it had been custom-made for him. Custom-made, and a thousand times better and safer than the ragged old piece of junk that was all he could afford when he started rodeoing all those years ago.

Remember that, Lomax. You’ve come this far by stayin’ on top of ’em.

Full Tilt came unwound, then, in a heartbeat, ready to boogie, trying to rear, slamming against the inside bars of the chute. Chase’s face hit the top one with his brow bone. The shock of the blow raced through him in an instant, waking every nerve in his body to anger and wariness and cold determination.

The announcer was calling his name.

He nodded for the gate. It swung open, Miss Boogie committed herself and he set his feet at the point of her shoulder on each side to mark her out with his dull-roweled spurs. The rule was that he had to mark her out of the chute for one jump, but he kept it up as he felt all the want-to in the world surge into his blood.

Chase rode flat with his shoulders against the horse’s rump, immersed in the rhythm of the spurring, starting on the front of the neck and coming up the neck to his handle with each jump, toes turned out. He tried to sense what Boogie might do next as she kicked in the hind end and dropped in the front, kicked and dropped.

She really bucked, this mare, and her front end was still in the air when her hind end kicked, so there was a lot of drop to get her front feet back on the ground again. But she did have a rhythm and Chase kept his feet set right, leaned back and lifted on his rigging. Bucking off was not an option.

His adrenaline was so high he forgot about his damaged bones jarring and his sore muscles wrenching. He rode for the whole eight seconds with his free hand high and away from his body and his spurs rolling, never losing his seat, even when Full Tilt tried changing directions and a spin or two. When the buzzer sounded, he sat up and kept on riding, looking for the pickup man to come alongside. That mare knew what the whistle meant, too, and her bucking fell into a halfhearted imitation of itself. Chase got his legs up, grabbed the cantle of the pickup man’s saddle and swung himself over his horse’s butt to land on his feet on the offside.

“Look at that, folks,” the announcer boomed to the cheering crowd. “The old man got ’er done! Yep, nothin’ but a day off for Chase Lomax, in spite of the fact that that horse can buck! And in spite of—or because of—the fact that she won the last couple of battles they had. You bet! That right there’s a sweet eight seconds for our five-time bareback world champion, Chase Lomax!”

Shut up and tell the score, won’t you? Forget all the blather.

“Ninety points! The judges tell me it’s a 9-0 for Mr. Lomax!”

He was happy with that. That was okay.

What the hell was he thinking? It was great. It ought to be incredibly exciting—like it used to be. Any rider had to be thrilled with a ninety-point score.

Chase took his hat off to the crowd, waved and smiled, the way he always did. He listened to the roar of approval for a second and then turned and walked along the fence.

No, to hell with the score anyhow. It oughtta be—it had to be—the ride that stirred the fire. The score meant nothing but money.

That curled his lips in a wry smile. Since when did the money mean nothing to the kid inside him who’d started out without a dime to his name?

“Good ride, cowboy!”

“Yeah, you really got ’er done, Chase.”

He accepted the high-fives and congratulations from the other cowboys with grins and jokes. But as he took his rigging from the pickup man who brought it to him and stepped out of the arena, the flat feeling came over him, longer and harder, in a smothering wave.

He stopped walking long enough for somebody from the Justin Sports Medicine team to look at his head and dab a little germ-killer on the cut but he didn’t hear a word the guy said. He was thinking.

Yeah, he’d got ’er done, and yeah, he’d kept his focus and made a textbook ride and a good score and some money, and it’d been great like it always was to get on an animal he knew would live up to its half of the bargain and really buck. But now that his adrenaline was draining away and his breathing was slowing, he didn’t feel any more excited than if it literally was a day off for him. His want-to might still be there, but the high didn’t stay with him the way it used to.

Was he getting old?

No. The bull riding proved it. He wasn’t too old to learn some new tricks and get some new thrills and he was proving it with every bull he rode.

He pulled his mind up short. There he went, worrying about his feelings again. Focus. He had to focus.

Chase spoke to people and answered greetings and accepted congratulations with half a mind as he headed on back to the pens behind the chutes to put away his rigging. He wished he was up in the bull riding tonight. That’d give him a shot of excitement for sure.

But he wasn’t, so he’d do the next best thing and go help his buddies get on their bulls. Maybe just watching them ride would lift him out of this mood.

ELLE FELT EXHAUSTION grab her legs for the second time, so she leaned on the barrel to rest them for a minute while the safety men moved in and pushed the bull to the gate. She was going to have to run more. Or work out with heavier weights. Maybe add a couple of repetitions to every part of her workout.

Excitement surged through her in such a steady stream, though, that she didn’t worry that her legs would give out completely. That couldn’t happen because this was her night.

“And he-ere’s our last bull ride of the evening, rodeo fans,” the announcer said. “This’ll be the twentieth great bucking bull to perform for us tonight. Don’t you think these fine animal athletes from Birch Creek Rodeo are some of the best in the world?”

Elle grinned to herself. Yes, they were, and she’d done a bang-up job on every one of them. She had learned a lot, she’d been skillful and she’d been lucky. Overall, this performance had been the best of her career, bar none.

The thought sent a shiver of excitement running through her. It would help her reach the top. That save she’d made for J. C. Taylor would get her talked about and it’d earn her a lot of respect. If she kept that up, some fine day she’d be going to the PBR, all right.

The next rider up nodded for the gate and adrenaline surged into her muscles as strongly as if the night had just started. She felt a huge smile take over her face, cracking a streak of mud that she hadn’t quite wiped away.

Nothin’ like a bull to pull a girl into focus. This one—an old, wily character named Skinny Dippin’—came spinning out of the chute pretending to be a tornado in a floppy skin and whirled like an F-5, away from the rider’s hand.

“Folks, this bull has been ridden on only ten percent of the tries since he’s been on the Birch Creek string, and that’s five or six years,” the announcer said. “And when he throws a man he takes off to go get him. We’ve got a real match-up here—a bad bull pitted against a good cowboy.”

The noise of the crowd began to build and he turned up the volume. “Jared Davison, folks, last year’s winner of the PRCA World Championship in bu-ull riding!!!”

After that, Elle didn’t hear another word. She stayed on the move, trying to feel what would happen next, trying to stay out of the way yet still be in the right place when Jared started to slip or the whistle blew, whichever came first.

He was wearing a helmet with a cage across his face, which interfered with their balance, a lot of cowboys said, and its weight might be pulling Jared a little to one side. Helmets limited peripheral vision, too, so she’d need to be right there when he came off because he might not be able to see the bull the whole time.

Riding a spin away from his hand was harder than riding one into his hand, and Jared was getting more and more out of shape, fighting with his outside leg to stay centered. If he slipped any more off his rope, the centripetal force of the spin would pull him down into the well—the circle made by the bull’s body. Skinny Dippin’ was a perfect example of what the cowboys called a “welly” bull.

Jared got his balance back and from then on, when the bull straightened out and started kicking high, the two of them were a picture of true beauty—two creatures in a ballet choreographed by the bull. Whatever he did, Jared made a move to counter him.

The dirt was deep and wet in spots and heavy enough to wear out an iron man. Jared had good natural balance and upper body strength, and he used his free arm as a pilot really well, so he was able to ride the new spin when it came and then react when Skinny Dippin’ stopped spinning and started bucking again. The old bull kicked high and twisted hard, leaping high into the air like the famous bull Bodacious used to do.