Chapter 2

The boss-man roped at most of the rodeos, both as an individual and in team-tying, but he never attempted the rough stock. Casa could not begin to figure why this peculiar turn of events. He worked his way along the rails until he was only one chute away and watched, almost holding his breath.

Jason had drawn a new bull, one they hadn’t seen here before. The compact beast’s sleek black hide hinted at Angus blood, but no particular breed had a real monopoly on bucking bulls. They came in every color and shape. This one snorted, slinging spit and snot as he shook his heavy head and banged short blunted horns on the bars.

Well, it looks like the boss knows what he’s doing anyway, like he’s done this before.

Jason reached for the rope as the chute attendant fished it beneath the bull’s belly and back up to the rider’s hand. Still balancing on the rails above the bull, he eased down slowly as he began to draw the rope up. The bull snorted and lunged. One of the men on top grabbed Jason’s arm and helped him rise clear again.

Damn critter is going to wear hisself out before he ever gets into the arena. Casa wasn’t sure if that was bad or good in this case. He preferred his own bulls to be quiet in the chute and save all the meanness for the arena to make a good show. But this is Jason riding…

Casa wasn’t quite ready to admit the extent of his concern, much less analyze the reasons for it. If it had been anyone else, he knew he’d only have been curious and eager to see how the ride went, but this was not anyone else.

Like Casa, Jason was more compact, a shade under six feet tall and well built. Even though his sandy hair was air brushed with gray along the temples, it wasn’t yet enough to age his young-looking but outdoor-weathered face. He could have posed for a classic Marlboro ad or taken a role in a western movie—he had the look and the attitude for it. Even though guests often came on to him, he remained aloof.

Thus, Casa didn’t know for a fact that Jason was gay, although he suspected it. Why else would he be running this special resort? As far as he knew, no women ever came around the rancher, and Jason wasn’t big on socializing. Jason habitually acted pleasant and courteous to all the guests, but always maintained a hint of distance. To the cowboys, he seemed somewhere between a father figure and a big brother, admired, respected and well liked because he was a fair and generous boss.

From early in his tenure at Rainbow Ranch, Casa had nursed a secret crush on his employer. He could never bring himself to ask, much less make a pass or hint how he felt, but the attraction continued to smolder along in the background and would not go away. And now this man was going to ride an unknown bull. Holy fucking shit.

Casa had to guess Jason must have rodeoed at one time. After all, it had been at a rodeo where the three cowboys had met him, although Jason was not a competitor even then. Casa got so wrapped up in his worries he almost missed the moment when Jason nodded and the gate swung open. The black bull had not used up all his dynamite in the chute. He had plenty left to do his stuff and do it he did. After two prodigious jumps with kicks higher than a tall man’s head, the bull went into a spin, hard to the left, still bucking.

Jason seemed to be giving the bull one hell of a ride, but spins were tricky. You had to lean in to counteract the centrifugal force that wanted to pull you off and away, but if you leaned too far…Most riders did best if the bull spun into their rope-holding hand. For Jason, that was his right, so this bull went against that general rule. The seconds ticked by, each seeming an hour long.

Simultaneous with the whistle, Casa realized Jason was in trouble. His rope had begun to slip from his hand and would soon loosen around the bull, no longer providing a secure “handle.” and he’d leaned a breath too far inward. An instant later, Jason fell into the middle of a tight spiral of deadly hooves with a ton of beef above them. The bullfighters were right there, but maybe a second or two slow.

Casa felt sure the bull stomped on Jason at least a couple of times before the beast realized it was free and no longer squeezed by the rope. Casa didn’t even register he’d moved until his boots hit the arena as he ran to the fallen rider. He sensed, but ignored, the heat and breeze as the bull rushed past him, missing him by a few hairs when it turned to head for the alley, but that didn’t matter either. He had attention for only one thing.