The Cowboy And The Cop. Christine Wenger

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       Chapter Two

      “Six...seven...eight! He did it, ladies and gentlemen! He did it!”

      The announcer’s voice echoed through the cavernous arena in Billings.

      Luke did a flying dismount from his bull, Cowabunga. Then the animal pushed him with his huge nose across the arena dirt as if Luke was a rolling pin. Luke felt that the bull actually knew he’d beaten him. That was Cowabunga’s revenge.

      Every bone in his body screamed and his teeth rattled in his head. He knew he had whacked his knee again. It took all the effort he could muster to get up, run to the chute gate and climb to safety until the bullfighters got the massive bull out of the arena and into his pen.

      “The winner of the Iron Cowboy Showdown is none other than Luke Beaumont!” Dwight Frenza, the arena announcer, said enthusiastically.

      Luke knew the drill. When Dwight said, “Everyone put your hands together for the winner...” it was Luke’s signal to stand in front of the Professional Bull Riders sign and be interviewed and presented with a gold buckle and maybe a new pair of boots.

      The big check would come later.

      Good. He needed it.

      Behind the chutes, several monitors were set up and he stopped to see the updated stats. Between the slaps on his back and hearty handshakes from other riders and PBR personnel congratulating him, Luke noticed that his two brothers had dropped a couple places on the standings, but he had no doubt that his brothers would move up. Out of the top twenty-five professional riders, he was number one. Reed was now fourth and Jesse was fifth. Together they were known as the Beaumont Big Guns.

      Speaking of Reed and Jesse, both came bounding out of the locker room. Reed had a bag of ice taped to his shoulder and a black eye. Jesse had a bandage around his right hand and wrist.

      Reed pumped his hand. “Incredible ride, bro.”

      Jesse gave him a fist bump with his good hand. “You did it again, Luke! Three wins in a row.”

      “Everyone fairly okay?” Luke asked.

      “Just a little nick from my last bull’s horns,” Reed said.

      “Nothing worth mentioning.” Jesse shrugged. “But how are you doing, Luke? You took quite a rolling from Cowabunga.”

      “I think I trashed my knee again. It hurts like hell. I’ll head to Sports Medicine. They’ll probably tape it and remind me again to get surgery.”

      “Don’t forget the autographing, Luke. As usual, the fans will be lined up to see you,” Reed said.

      Luke looked forward to signings because he loved talking to fans of the sport. Once in a while, someone from his past would go through his line and it was cool to get reacquainted.

      Just like Amber Chapman. But they really hadn’t gotten reacquainted. She’d sternly pointed out that he’d better take care of the ranch and the town or both would disintegrate.

      Amber had looked good. Her shoulder-length hair was various shades of blond and her green eyes had looked like new spring grass. He didn’t know why he was being poetic when he thought of Amber. He must have been bucked off too many times and smacked his head.

      He’d thought about what Amber had told him for the entire week before the Billings event, but what he hadn’t done was talk to his brothers. He’d wanted to do that in person, and now was the time.

      Their Oklahoma roots went back to about 1836 when their great-great-grandfather, Pierre Beaumont, rode from Gonzales, Texas, to fight for the Alamo and stayed to establish a town and a ranch on the outskirts of San Antonio that he called Beaumont.

      Although there had been several Beaumonts who’d run the ranch, expanded it and cared for it like Pierre, Big Dan hadn’t given a hoot about anything since his lovely wife, Valerie Lynn O’Malley Beaumont, had died in his arms after being kicked in the head by a horse.

      Big Dan had easily fallen into booze and gambling, and resorted to yelling at his sons when they came to visit. He insisted that he didn’t want the ranch touched. Instead he wanted it frozen in time—the time that Valerie died.

      Luke waved his brothers over to a corner of the locker room. “I have to talk to you both. There’s a great steakhouse down the street. It’s called Old Barn or something like that. After the autographing, let’s grab some steaks and talk.”

      “Anything important?” Reed asked.

      “I think it is.”

      * * *

      LATER THAT NIGHT the three Beaumont Big Guns were treated like celebrities at the Old Barn. Over thick, rare steaks and curly fries with brown gravy, they posed for pictures, signed various pieces of clothing and several programs from the event.

      “You are so handsome, Luke, and the best rider—ever,” a much-too-young girl said with her hand on his arm. “Reed is the brainiac, and Jesse is the party guy, but you’re...uh...like both of them, and you’re the best. I have your poster over my bed.”

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