things in common. Similar lifestyles, similar interests. Dallas and I—think about it. In the fall, I start a teaching job as an assistant professor. Dallas is…Dallas is a cowboy.”
Shari grinned. “The World Champion All-Around Cowboy.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what he is. Dallas isn’t interested in me and I’m not interested in him.”
Which was good because he had avoided her ever since his arrival in Silver Springs and she had made a point of avoiding him.
He was nowhere to be seen when the rodeo was over late that night. He’d been bucked off the horse he had drawn, then in the calf roping, he had broken the barrier—the string that marked the head start the calf was given—which cost him a ten-second penalty and any chance of landing in the money. He had obviously gone off to lick his wounds and she told herself she didn’t care.
Everyone was tired after the evening performance, but it was Friday night and Shari and Stormy wanted to go out dancing. They refused to let her stay home.
“You came here to learn about rodeo,” Shari said. “Well, what we do after the perf is an important part of the life you’re writing about.”
True enough. And part of her really did want to go, even if she couldn’t dance the Texas two-step.
The sign above the door read The High Desert Saloon and the parking lot was so full of cars Stormy had trouble finding a place to park Dallas’s pickup. There had to be some secret code she hadn’t yet figured out because all the contestants seemed to know where the local hot spot was in each town.
The bar was buzzing, packed to the rafters when they walked in. A lot of the Silver Springs riders lived within driving distance, which meant a number of Hispanic and Indian cowboys were competing. One of the guys she had met was extremely good-looking, a bareback rider named Blue Cody who was part Navajo, with black hair and dark eyes and incredible cheekbones. Shari had introduced them and Patience noticed him tonight as they pushed through the doors of the saloon and wove their way up to the bar.
The place rang with a combination of honky-tonk, old-fashioned western music, hot country, and good ole rock and roll. In Boston, she never listened to country music, but Shari played it in the pickup whenever they were on the road. Patience had to admit she was beginning to enjoy it.
Especially here, in this loud, smoky, low-ceilinged bar that flashed with neon beer signs, had a big wooden dance floor overflowing with couples in cowboy clothes, and everyone laughing. From what she’d seen so far, most of the serious cowboys didn’t drink or party much until the rodeo was over, but those who were already out of the money or just wanted to have a good time showed up in the bar after the performance was over.
She found herself searching for Dallas, but Stormy had his truck, and besides, he would be riding tomorrow. It wasn’t likely he would be out on the town. Especially since he had done so poorly today. She didn’t believe he took many falls, at least not as hard as the one he had taken that afternoon. She hated to admit it, but it scared her to see him thrown into the fence then get up and rub his injured shoulder. He had picked up his hat a little stiffly then walked with his head down out of the arena.
But Shari had said he was fine, just a little bruised up and mad at himself for making some stupid mistake coming out of the chute.
Dallas wasn’t there, but Wes McCauley was and so was that Navajo cowboy, Blue Cody.
As Stormy shoved an icy bottle of beer into her hand, Blue came up to where she stood and pulled off his broad-brimmed black hat.
“Hey, P.J. How about a dance?”
She smiled. “I’d love to dance with you, Blue, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to do the two-step.”
Blue grinned. “No problem. I’ll teach you.”
She hesitated only an instant as Tyler’s face flashed in her mind, and she realized how paranoid she still was. Blue wasn’t
Shari grinned. “The World Champion All-Around Cowboy.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what he is. Dallas isn’t interested in me and I’m not interested in him.”
Which was good because he had avoided her ever since his arrival in Silver Springs and she had made a point of avoiding him.
He was nowhere to be seen when the rodeo was over late that night. He’d been bucked off the horse he had drawn, then in the calf roping, he had broken the barrier—the string that marked the head start the calf was given—which cost him a ten-second penalty and any chance of landing in the money. He had obviously gone off to lick his wounds and she told herself she didn’t care.
Everyone was tired after the evening performance, but it was Friday night and Shari and Stormy wanted to go out dancing. They refused to let her stay home.
“You came here to learn about rodeo,” Shari said. “Well, what we do after the perf is an important part of the life you’re writing about.”
True enough. And part of her really did want to go, even if she couldn’t dance the Texas two-step.
The sign above the door read The High Desert Saloon and the parking lot was so full of cars Stormy had trouble finding a place to park Dallas’s pickup. There had to be some secret code she hadn’t yet figured out because all the contestants seemed to know where the local hot spot was in each town.
The bar was buzzing, packed to the rafters when they walked in. A lot of the Silver Springs riders lived within driving distance, which meant a number of Hispanic and Indian cowboys were competing. One of the guys she had met was extremely good-looking, a bareback rider named Blue Cody who was part Navajo, with black hair and dark eyes and incredible cheekbones. Shari had introduced them and Patience noticed him tonight as they pushed through the doors of the saloon and wove their way up to the bar.
The place rang with a combination of honky-tonk, old-fashioned western music, hot country, and good ole rock and roll. In Boston, she never listened to country music, but Shari played it in the pickup whenever they were on the road. Patience had to admit she was beginning to enjoy it.
Especially here, in this loud, smoky, low-ceilinged bar that flashed with neon beer signs, had a big wooden dance floor overflowing with couples in cowboy clothes, and everyone laughing. From what she’d seen so far, most of the serious cowboys didn’t drink or party much until the rodeo was over, but those who were already out of the money or just wanted to have a good time showed up in the bar after the performance was over.
She found herself searching for Dallas, but Stormy had his truck, and besides, he would be riding tomorrow. It wasn’t likely he would be out on the town. Especially since he had done so poorly today. She didn’t believe he took many falls, at least not as hard as the one he had taken that afternoon. She hated to admit it, but it scared her to see him thrown into the fence then get up and rub his injured shoulder. He had picked up his hat a little stiffly then walked with his head down out of the arena.
But Shari had said he was fine, just a little bruised up and mad at himself for making some stupid mistake coming out of the chute.
Dallas wasn’t there, but Wes McCauley was and so was that Navajo cowboy, Blue Cody.
As Stormy shoved an icy bottle of beer into her hand, Blue came up to where she stood and pulled off his broad-brimmed black hat.
“Hey, P.J. How about a dance?”
She smiled. “I’d love to dance with you, Blue, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to do the two-step.”
Blue grinned. “No problem. I’ll teach you.”
She hesitated only an instant as Tyler’s face flashed in her mind, and she realized how paranoid she still was. Blue wasn’t
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