A Cowboy Comes A Courting. Christine Scott
stared at him, remaining stubbornly mute.
“What’s the matter with you, boy? Don’t you understand? The next time a bull decides to use you as a punchin’ bag, you won’t be walking away from it—if he doesn’t kill you first.”
The words chilled him. Tyler looked away, not allowing his friend to see his unease. It wasn’t that he had a death wish, he told himself. Or that he wanted to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. It was just that who he was, what he was, was so tied up with the rodeo, he couldn’t separate the two. Not even at the high price he’d be forced to pay.
“You’ve won every title there is,” Gus said. “What more is there to prove?”
That he was Tyler Bradshaw, bull rider, rodeo champion. That he was somebody more than the hick kid who took off from home at the age of seventeen—
“Tyler, listen to me,” Gus said, lowering his voice from a roar to a whisper, his tone deadly somber. “You’ve got to face the facts. It’s time to retire.”
Unexplainably. his friend’s gentle concern irritated Tyler more than his irate preaching. He felt the anger swirl in his stomach, the nonsensical words burn in his mind, knew they were uncalled-for, his animosity ill-advised. But for the life of him, he couldn’t stop the angry words from tumbling out. “If and when I retire, it’ll be my decision. Not yours, old man.”
Gus flinched as though he’d been dealt a blow.
All of Tyler’s aching body parts combined didn’t feel half as bad as the pain in his heart at having hurt his mentor. Tyler owed him his career, his life. He wanted to reach out and apologize, to tell Gus he didn’t mean it Only he didn’t know how.
The door to his hospital room opened, saving him from the effort
Skye stood in the doorway, looking small, pale and frightened. The heavy door whisked shut behind her, causing her to jump in surprise. Her concern on top of Gus’s was the last straw.
Tyler scowled. “What is this, a funeral? Sorry, Skye. I’m not dead yet. You’re going to have to wait a few months for a visitation.”
Unlike her father, who’d taken his abuse with stoic silence. Skye gave him tit for tat The expression on her face changed dramatically, from scared to stormy. “Tyler Bradshaw, you are the most ungrateful man to walk this planet Why anybody bothers to care about you is beyond ”
He narrowed a glance at the fireball, unable to curb a grudging admiration for her spunky attitude. She was certainly her father’s daughter. Not one to back away from a fight
Her eyes sparkled as she continued, “But for some crazy reason, they do. Now there’s a hall full of cowboys waiting outside. And they’re not leaving until they’ve seen for themselves that you’re okay. So just shut up and endure the attention.”
With that she opened the hospital room door and peered out into the. hall. Motioning with one slender hand, she stepped back and allowed the well-wishers to enter.
Slim, Joey, Bucky, Mark...and more crowded into the room. Tyler hadn’t seen this many of the boys since they’d celebrated a rookie’s initial ride at the Watering Hole bar. Tyler lay back in his bed and moaned. He almost wished the bull had finished the job he’d started. Even in the best of conditions, Tyler wasn’t good at being social, Preferring to be an observer, rather than a participant. Tonight, feeling as though he’d been run over by a truck, he just wanted to curl up and feel sorry for himself.
Tyler opened his mouth to bite out a quick dismissal of the group, but thought better of it, when he caught Skye’s glowering gaze. He’d be better off taking on Tornado again, than butting heads with her.
Skye Whitman was one woman he didn’t want to cross.
From a spot in the corner of the room, away from the center of action, Skye watched the interchange between Tyler and his friends. She’d never met a man who so carefully guarded even the simplest show of emotion. Every time one of the boys brought up his injuries, he changed the subject. If they asked how he felt after his harrowing ride, he brushed it off with a joke. He hid his feelings behind a good ol’ boy mask of indifference. Not letting anyone see the real Tyler Bradshaw.
Whoever that might be.
The nurse on duty, a harried young woman with long blond hair and a worried frown, entered the room, pushing her way through the crowd. “Gentlemen, it’s after visiting hours. Our patient’s tired. He needs his rest. I’m sorry, but ya’ll have to leave now.”
Murmurs of regret sounded in the room.
The nurse hadn’t been the only one to notice Tyler’s eyes drifting shut more than once. Or his ashen pallor. Or the grimace of pain that he tried to hide behind a strained smile. Without an argument, the cowboys mumbled their goodbyes and began drifting toward the door.
It was time to go home.
Skye watched the men’s slow exodus and wondered if, with the setting sun, the ranch house had cooled down any. Or if it was still sweltering with heat.
She noticed her father deep in conversation with Joey Witherspoon at the foot of Tyler’s bed. Their voices were low, hushed in deference to the now sleeping Tyler. Her curiosity piqued, she sidled up to the pair.
“He’s going to need help,” Gus was telling his friend. “He’s got some cracked ribs and he’s done a number on his back again. Doctor says he’s going to need to rest and recuperate. But, hell, he lives out of that damn truck of his, driving from one rodeo to the next. Where’s he supposed to go?”
“Juanita and I would like to help.” Joey flexed his massive shoulders into a shrug. “But with the new baby, Juanita already has her hands full.”
“My apartment’s too small to turn around in, let alone have a houseguest,” Gus muttered, glancing at Tyler’s still figure. “Dammit, what are we going to do with him?”
“Surely, somebody could take him in.”
“Who?” Gus asked sharply. “Don’t get me wrong. Tyler’s a good ol’ boy and all, but—” He sighed. “Well, I don’t know too many cowboys fool enough to stay within kickin’ distance of him when he’s been hurt. He can be a bit on the cantankerous side.”
Skye clapped a hand to her mouth, smothering a laugh. Gus Whitman calling Tyler Bradshaw cantankerous was a little like the pot calling the kettle black.
The noise caught both men’s attention.
Joey turned, startled. “Hey there, Skye. I didn’t notice you standing there.”
Gus frowned. “Honey, I thought you’d left along with the others.”
“I just thought I’d stay and see how Tyler’s doing,” she said, instantly regretting the words. Admitting to her father that she was worried about Tyler didn’t seem like a wise thing to do. She shrugged, covering her concern. “You know, to see if he needed anything, like a toothbrush, or a magazine, or something.”
The two men exchanged a glance.
Gus cleared his throat and gave his most engaging smile. “Say, honey...how’s that ranch house? Gettin’ kind of lonely?”
Skye frowned. “Lonely? No, not yet anyway. I mean, it’s a lot different from living in the city—” She stopped herself, stared at the two men, seeing the wheels turning behind their guarded expressions. She gave her head a slow, disbelieving shake. “Oh, no, you don’t—”
“Don’t what, honey?” Gus asked, a picture of innocence.
“Tyler...” she sputtered, waving a hand at the injured man’s prone form. “You’re not going to foist him off on me to nurse.”
The mere thought sent the heat of anger racing through her veins—along with another emotion she didn’t want to dwell on at the moment. Her father was certainly