Rodeo Nights Page 4

  “You coming, Walker?”

  “No. I need to pick up stock for tonight soon as I finish this coffee.”

  The older man gave an acknowledging wave.

  “Now, where’s this computer I’ve been hearing about, Kalli?” Lodge’s question carried back to Walker. “I’ve been thinking of a better setup to link home to the store. Which reminds me, when’re you coming to the store to let my Esther pick out clothes that’ll make you look less like New York and more like Wyoming?”

  With that less than subtle hint, the committee chairman took Kalli’s elbow and started into the office.

  Roberta cleared the table, removing Walker’s untouched watermelon without a word. But he felt her piercing look.

  “Guess you want to finish your coffee before you pick up stock, huh, Walker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In that case, you can fold up the cloth and put it in the back of my car along with the mug when you’re done.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that.” He swallowed the tepid liquid.

  She picked up a box of lunch paraphernalia, letting loose her parting shot as she walked away. “Tablecloths can come in mighty handy, can’t they, Walker? Hide a multitude of sins. Sins and other conditions.”

  Chapter Three

  * * *

  DAMN WALKER RILEY. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

  It wasn’t fair to be sitting at a picnic table minding your own business, and be hit by a lightning bolt of memory. Damn Walker Riley.

  Their paths hadn’t crossed much these past two days, though Kalli heard “Walker says” a hundred times a day—at the rodeo and at the hospital, where he, too, received permission to visit outside regular hours. Of course he never showed up at the same time she was there.

  She’d seen him only twice—when a cowboy stopped to look over the operation and when a curious citizen made a get-acquainted call. Both times Walker had appeared as suddenly as a storm cloud, maneuvered distance between her and the newcomer and introduced her as “Ms. Evans” in a tone that declared “hands off.” Then he’d disappeared just before she would have informed him that the Riley Personal Bodyguard Service was most definitely unwanted.

  But she had him now. She’d ordered Gulch to inform Walker that his attendance was required first thing this morning at the meeting she’d called with Gulch, Roberta, Tina, the head of the ticket office and Tom Nathan, who was leaving today to return to the circuit where he produced a series of rodeos. She wouldn’t set Walker straight about his interference, not with an audience, but she would make him sit in the same spot with her for more than two and a half minutes.

  From Walker’s expression as he entered the back room of the box office building for the meeting—the last to arrive, naturally—that would constitute punishment.

  Barely sparing Walker a glance, she couldn’t help identifying his scent, a mix of morning-cool sunshine, dewed sage, warmed animal and well-worn leather; he’d already put in time in the saddle.

  She was staying at the Jeffries ranch just west of town; he hadn’t been there this morning. So where did he ride? It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. He could ride where he wanted. He could sleep where he wanted. If he spent every night in his Spartan camper, it wasn’t any concern of hers; he’d probably done it often enough these past years.

  And if he’d found somewhere—or someone—more accommodating, that wasn’t any concern of hers, either. That, too, had surely happened often enough in ten years. Blond barrel racers were not an endangered species, last time she’d heard.

  Coat, following at Walker’s heels, split off to greet her with a wildly waving tail and an insistent nose requesting a good petting. She complied.

  “Walker, if you’ll take a seat.” She pointed to the only one unoccupied. She’d sat at the head of the table from habit. Then, as the others left the facing chair at the end of the table empty, as if in silent testimony to a connection between her and Walker, she’d contemplated the danger of habits.

  “We were about to hear from Tina with the season attendance figures.” Kalli leaned forward, balancing a pencil in a deceptively loose grip. “Go ahead, Tina.”

  As Walker dropped into his customary half sprawl in the chair, she gave the head of the ticket office an encouraging nod. In a soft voice Kalli had already learned belied absolute reliability, Tina recited the numbers.

  Declining numbers.

  “The pattern’s clear,” Kalli said into the silence that followed Tina’s summary.

  “It’s natural.” Walker didn’t actually contradict her, but that’s how it felt. “Folks aren’t sure how it’ll go without Jeff running the show. When they see we’re running it just like Jeff, business will pick up.”

  “That’ll be too late.” She thumped the pencil eraser on the table. “This rodeo has an eighty-two-performance season. Eighty-two. It’s held eleven. That leaves seventy-one. Even with a solid base, we can’t afford to ride out a lull. There’s not enough time to make up lost ground.”

  Walker didn’t answer, didn’t shift position, didn’t look up.

  Intent on Walker, she started at Tom Nathan’s voice. “Kalli’s right. If you lose the town’s confidence, you won’t have time this season to get it back. And next season, they’ll be looking for someone they do have confidence in.

  “But Baldwin Jeffries—”

  Tom cut across Gulch’s protest. “Jeff would be the first to understand. He knows what the rodeo means to this town, and he knows how much of the rodeo’s success relies on giving people what they expect year after year.”

  “Or better than they expect,” said Kalli. “That’s what we have to aim for. To make this season so good that the rodeo committee would be fools not to recontract with Jeff.”

  She thought—hoped—she saw an answering spark in the eyes of the others around the table. With one exception.

  “And the first step is to get ticket sales up,” she added.

  “Any ideas?”

  She listened to suggestions batted around the table, jotting down additional ticket outlets, ways to promote in surrounding towns and an open house for area residents.

  “These ideas are good. And I think you’re right, Roberta, about not waiting for the open house to make contact with the merchants and rodeo committee members. Take a look at the possibility of holding some lunches, then let me know.

  “I hope you’ll all keep thinking of ways to raise attendance, and pass them on. Now...” She paused to pull in a breath, looking at the pad, then up and right into Walker’s gaze. “We have one asset we haven’t exploited yet.”

  Everyone else around the table stilled. Only Walker moved. He tilted an eyebrow at her.

  She met that blue stare directly. “You.”

  While the others asked what she meant, she heard Walker’s quiet repetition of one word: “Exploited.” Heard it and refused to back down, despite a rush of heat up her back that might have been confused with guilt. This was necessary for the rodeo—for Jeff.

  “I mean the reputation of Walker Riley, national champion bull rider. From a PR standpoint, it’s a natural.”

  “You mean, like interviews?” Gulch sounded appalled. “He’s always hated that, Kalli. Remember how—”

  His words shut off like a spigot. Out of the corner of her eye, Kalli saw the misery on his weathered face at having brought up the forbidden past. She did know how Walker had hated it. With his pride and sense of privacy, he’d never opened his life or his emotions for anybody.

  She licked her dry lips.

  “One of the best-known bull riders comes back to where he started, a knight in shining armor rescuing the rodeo for his uncle, the man who gave him his start.”

  When Walker’s gaze dropped, she nearly faltered. She made herself go on.

  “Reporters worth their salt will jump on it. The coverage should help by itself. Plus we’ll copy the clips and distribute them to the motels. That should catch the tourists’ eyes. And we’ll send clips and video to key to
urs and travel agents.”

  She went on with the possibilities, although one by one the others shifted their attention to Walker, silent and still at the end of the table. He raised his chin an inch. That slammed his gaze into hers.

  “You’re rushing, Kalli. Sales’ll pick up. But if you go doing a lot of changing, you’ll make folks nervous. They’re already wondering if it’ll be the same with Jeff not in charge.”

  She’d anticipated that answer, acknowledged it had merit. Though over-caution had its own dangers.

  “That’s why it’s so important for you to do the publicity. Everyone around here knows Walker Riley, and trusts what you say. You can ease the nervousness, let them know the rodeo will go on as before—or better. You have the name. You have the championship buckle.”

  She met his look, the length of the table offering little protection from the burn of blue eyes.

  “Hold off on those other moves and I’ll do your interviews with the locals, but not beyond.”

  Her interviews. Damn him.

  But personal feelings had no place in a business negotiation. She let it go, and compromised. “We also do lunches with the rodeo committee and top businesspeople in town. And we send a news release to the others built around your name and title.”

  He stood up slowly. From his spot next to Kalli’s chair, Coat did the same.

  “Right. Might as well get some use out of it. It cost enough.”

  * * *

  WHEN KALLI ARRIVED at the hospital that evening, closer to eleven than ten, to find Jeff sleeping, she tried to persuade Mary to go to the cafeteria. But Mary didn’t want to leave, saying the murmur of familiar voices soothed her husband.

  So Kalli updated her on the rodeo. Mary gave her a searching look, but spoke only words of encouragement and praise. Then she told Kalli of the messages of support and love that had poured in from their wide circle of friends.

  No sound betrayed him, but Kalli was aware of someone at the door. She was not surprised to turn and face Walker.

  “They didn’t tell me Jeff had a visitor. I’ll wait.”

  His retreat halted immediately when Mary held out a hand.

  “Walker, no. You stay here with Jeff. Kalli was just going to take me to the cafeteria for a late supper, and I’ll feel so much better if you’re here.”

  Kalli blinked at Mary’s abrupt shift. After a moment’s hesitation, Walker came in, bending to brush a kiss on Mary’s cheek.

  “How is he?”

  “Better,” Mary said with a slight smile. “He likes to have you two come by, though he frets about the rodeo.”

  Walker nodded in acceptance that Mary knew her husband’s thoughts. As Mary and Kalli left, he lifted the chair Kalli had been using, turned it and straddled it, his attention focused on the man in the bed.

  As she walked with Mary to the cafeteria, restlessness seized Kalli—an urgency to do something, to tackle some project, to solve some problem. She thought of the paperwork waiting at the rodeo office with something like longing as she gently bullied Mary into taking more than coffee.

  At a corner table, they ate wilting fruit salad and tired sandwiches, with frequent halts while one or the other stared, unseeing, at nothing. Mary finally pecked at enough food that when she sighed deeply and pushed away the tray, Kalli didn’t feel the need to badger her into eating more.

  “I wish he’d talk.”

  Mary’s unexpected words made Kalli’s fragmented thoughts stumble onto the realization that she’d harbored a wish that Walker would talk to her, really talk to her. How stupid. She and Walker had nothing to say to each other. But Mary’s need to have Jeff talk was very real.

  “He will. Give him time. It’s—”

  “No.” Mary cut off Kalli. “Time’s against him. If a stroke patient doesn’t talk early, often he never does. The nurses and the doctor hem it around with a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘sometimes,’ but that’s what it boils down to.”

  Kalli was silent. Mary wasn’t bemoaning facts, she was stating them. In the face of such courage, Kalli wouldn’t offer empty words of reassurance.

  “His body not doing what he wants, that would be hard for anybody, especially a man like Jeff. He’d get by, though. But not talking... I see the frustration in him and it’s so fierce. Sometimes I worry that he’ll just let go because the frustration’s so bad, that he’ll quit fighting.”

  “No! Mary, don’t think that. Jeff would never give up, never. He’s too strong.”

  Mary’s eyes examined her. “Even the strong give up sometimes,” she said slowly. “Walker did. You did. Jeff could.”

  “He won’t. Jeff won’t give up.” She said it with every ounce of conviction in her, but Mary’s unwavering look demanded more. That was harder.

  “Walker... Walker didn’t give up. He might have been down for a while, but he kept going with what he wanted from life. He never gave up the rodeo.” Don’t slow down. Don’t linger on the thought of how he went on without you. “And I...well, there you’re right. I gave up. On the life out here. On the marriage. But the difference is I’m not strong like Jeff and Walker—”

  “You are strong. If you’d given yourself time—”

  Kalli covered Mary’s hand with hers. “What I’m saying is, Jeff won’t give up. Not ever. You can’t let yourself worry he might.”

  Tears welled in Mary’s eyes, but didn’t fall. “I must be getting old to go saying a fool thing like that about the man I’ve known fifty-two years.”

  “You just needed someone else to say the words.”

  Turning her hand, Mary returned the grip. “You’ve gotten to be very wise, child. You’re right. I’d said the words so much, they didn’t make sense anymore. I needed to hear a new voice. Now, c’mon, let’s get up to the room.”

  Fueled by food or renewed hope, Mary walked smartly down quiet corridors. As they neared Jeff’s room, Kalli tried to ease away, planning to leave before Walker performed another disappearing act. But Mary’s firm grip on Kalli’s hand never slackened, and escape would have involved an undignified tug-of-war, which Kalli would probably lose.

  Two steps inside the door, they both froze.

  Walker stood at the far side of the bed, one hand splayed on the wall above Jeff’s head as he leaned down. With his back to them was a short, white-coated doctor, also leaning over the figure in the bed.

  “Oh, my God,” Mary whispered. “Jeff!”

  Walker straightened. But his face held none of what Kalli feared.

  “It’s all right, Mary. Everything’s all right. Jeff’s talking.”

  “Talking?” Mary repeated.

  She moved to her husband’s side, the young doctor backing up to give her room.

  “Not much volume yet,” said Walker with that half grin, “but the vocabulary’s ’bout the same. First thing he said was ‘Mary.’ I called in the doc. And Jeff got right down to business with ‘rodeo.’ And somethin’ about somebody’s parentage not being quite on the up-and-up.”

  The doctor’s discreet throat-clearing managed to convey humor. “I believe Mr. Jeffries was addressing me.”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Mary said with great fondness as she held Jeff’s hand between both of hers.

  “But now Mr. Jeffries needs his rest,” the doctor added in a different tone.

  “I’m not going—”

  “You may stay awhile, Mrs. Jeffries,” he allowed.

  Which, Kalli thought, was rather like someone telling the Mississippi River it could flow. “But everyone else, out.”

  In a surprisingly short time, Kalli was walking with Walker across a concrete plain interrupted only by a pair of pickups and three cars. After the hospital’s bright stillness, the parking lot was dark and mysteriously alive with currents of the night.

  Walker turned with her as she headed to her car. He didn’t so much as brush her jacket. He tucked his fingers into his jeans pockets, hunching slightly into the wind that tugged at his cotton shirt. Leaving a poo
l of light, they dipped into darkness.

  “Must have some cutting horse in him.”

  “What?” How could his slow voice throw her when she’d been so aware of his physical presence?

  “The little doc. The way he rounded us up and chuted us right out the door.”

  “He was efficient.”

  A smile drew up the one side of his mouth. Irritation pulled at her. This lopsided stuff was getting old. Who would have thought he’d adopt such an affectation? Maybe someone who hadn’t known what his smile was supposed to look like would accept it as genuine. Not her.

  “Did Jeff really talk?”

  He didn’t bristle at her demand, but a shifting of shadows indicated a lift of his eyebrows.

  “Yes.”

  She’d known him too long and had once known him too well not to decipher the conflicts in that syllable. Her next word softened.

  “But...?”

  Reaching her car, they faced each other under the spotlight from a nearby pole. Walker propped his right hip against the back door, adjusting his hat to shade his face.

  “He made noises. Calling them words came more from knowing what he’d want to say. If I got Mary’s hopes up... Maybe I shouldn’t have made it sound so good.”

  “Anybody would have done that under the circumstances.” Needing to persuade him, she cupped a hand around his arm just above the elbow. “Besides, Mary told me the doctors said the important thing is the ability to vocalize. Words will come, and they’ll get clearer.”

  A warm movement of air that might have been his sigh touched her cheek. He dipped his head, then straightened, pushed his hat back with a forefinger and grinned.

  “Thanks, Kalli.”

  The stark light illuminated the lines and planes his face had acquired. And under that artificial glare, Kalli recognized what she hadn’t before—a shallow indentation of scar tissue above the right side of his mouth. The corner that no longer lifted when he grinned.

  Sharp tears scraped at her throat as she swallowed. His grin faded and his face stilled. She became aware of her hold tightening on his arm. The breeze-cooled cotton of his shirt provided her hand no protection from the solid fire of his skin.