No Hero Like Him. Elaine Grant

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ feel better when I can ride a bull again.” Seth dried the last glass and set it in the cabinet. He handed the dish towel to Libby and she spread it across the double sink divider to dry.

      “You’re being stubborn.”

      “As always.” He managed a grin. “What’s the deal with your friend?”

      “Claire’s the nicest person—and really pretty.”

      Seth straightened and gave his sister a warning look. “Do not try to play matchmaker.”

      She jammed her hands on her hips. “I’m not playing matchmaker. Claire just happens to be pretty, and she really needs help. She has a camp for at-risk youth starting next week at the Rider ranch, and the guy she’d hired to be in charge of the boys quit today. If she doesn’t have a full-time male counselor in place by early next week, they can’t come to camp.”

      “Stop right there. I’m not babysitting a bunch of rotten kids all summer.”

      “This isn’t babysitting. These teenagers need help, and Claire’s willing to provide it. She’s worked for three years to get a camp started, and has finally succeeded. Then Barry—he’s the assistant principal at school, who was going to help her this summer—he got a great job offer out of the blue, a position that starts immediately. He quit on her today and she’s afraid she’ll never find a replacement in time.”

      “Nice guy.” Seth shrugged a shoulder. “But I don’t have the experience.”

      “No, but you’re good with kids. And you could use something to occupy your time this summer.”

      “I’m good with little kids—and teenage girls,” he said.

      “Seth!”

      He grinned again. “You know what I mean. Signing autographs and paying them a little attention, that’s all.”

      Libby sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, Claire is concerned about one boy in particular. Micah Abbott. He’s been in a lot of trouble this year. If he can’t attend Claire’s camp, accomplish the work there, he won’t be allowed back in school next year.”

      “So what’s the problem with this Micah? Sounds like he needs more than a slap on the back and an autograph. And that’s about my limit.”

      “I don’t know much about him other than he has a bad home life. Claire’s camp is his last hope.”

      Seth had never minded assisting somebody in need—changing a flat tire or lending a buddy a few bucks. But spending his summer herding a bunch of teenagers was a bigger commitment than he was willing to make. “Libby, I wish I could help your friend out, but I don’t think I fit the bill for what she needs.”

      “Would you at least go talk to Claire? Maybe you could just fill in for a few days to give her time to find somebody permanent.”

      “I’ll think about it, okay?”

      “Okay, but don’t think too long. She needs help fast.” Libby’s voice held a rare edge of irritation. “And you could do this one favor for me. After all, I did you one, letting you come here, instead of making you go home to the ranch. I probably should have anyway, so you and Dad could make up. He wants to, you know.”

      “No, I don’t know that,” Seth said. “He’s never done anything to make me believe it.”

      “And when have you given him the chance? You won’t even talk to him. Even in the hospital you didn’t want him in your room.”

      “Why would I? I did exactly what he always said I would. Ended up with my face in the dirt and busted up. I didn’t want him rubbing that in.”

      “None of them would have done that. Everybdy was worried to death about you.”

      “Yeah, well, Dad had a funny way of showing it.”

      “What do you mean by that?”

      Seth shrugged. “Just something I heard him say in the hospital.”

      “What?”

      “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I’ll think about helping your friend.” Seth felt trapped between the frustration of having an injury that prevented him from doing what he wanted to do, and the guilt of refusing his sister after all she’d done for him. He’d always hated being beholden, even to his family. “I’m going to bed. ’Night.”

      He gave Libby a peck on the cheek, then hobbled to his room to watch TV and sulk behind closed doors. He slumped into a chair in front of the TV and used his cell phone to call some of his buddies. He wanted to catch up on the latest standings, see if his name had already dropped off the list of forty-five top-ranked riders, but nobody answered.

      Were they checking their caller ID and deciding not to talk to him? He hoped not, but had to admit his attitude hadn’t been great lately. He couldn’t travel, and the others had to, or else they made no money. His travel partner, Jess Marvin, had been forced to pick up another buddy to defray expenses, but usually touched base every few days.

      Sometimes Seth imagined that he saw wariness in the eyes of friends who visited him, as if what he had might be catching and if they hung around him too much, some of his bad luck might rub off and they could be the next one laid up. A lot of rodeo riders, like many athletes, had an unhealthy dose of superstition. Wearing a lucky hat or chaps. Dropping to a knee on the arena floor to give thanks to God after a ride or a save.

      Who needed negativity when you had to go out and ride the next day? So his buddies had gone on with their lives and left Seth behind.

      He picked up the Pro Bull Riders schedule from the floor beside his chair and studied it. No wonder they didn’t answer. They were riding tonight and the rest of the weekend, right up the road in Billings. He could drive there tomorrow. Limp around, breathe in the intoxicating scents of livestock, sweat and food from the concession stands. Take in the heady noise of the arena: the screams of the girls in the stands, the excited snort and grunt of a bull eager to get that rider off his back and that flank rope loose, the yells of the other cowboys urging their comrades on…The shouts of the bull riders luring a rampaging animal away from a fallen rider.

      Seth remembered that sound well enough. And the pain, and the mortification of knowing he had to be hauled out of a hushed arena on a gurney. Yeah, he could drive up to Billings for all that. Sure.

      He sailed the schedule into a corner, where it hit the wall and slid to the floor. No way in hell.

      No, he’d just stay here with Libby all weekend and help her weed her flower beds. Hell, he might be doing that the rest of his life, the way things were going.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “WONDERFUL! You’re doing great. Cluck to her to keep her moving.”

      Claire watched as fifteen-year-old Rachel Rider, one of her young volunteers, led a Shetland pony around the dirt paddock behind the Little Lobo Veterinary Clinic. Rachel’s twelve-year-old sister, Wendy, worked as a side-walker, her hand resting on the leg of a tiny helmeted girl sitting in a saddle that was too big for her, even though it was the smallest available. On the other side of the horse, СКАЧАТЬ