he growled, “can have all the honors. Hell, maybe he’ll just go on and take the championship while he’s at it.” He jammed his white hat on his head and shrugged into his heavy sheepskin coat. “I don’t really give a damn about anything or anybody. Not anymore.”
And with that declaration, Jesse Cody turned on his heel and stalked out into the snowy night.
Chapter Two
The frigid wind hit Jesse like a brick in the face. He staggered, eyes narrowed against the prick of icy snow pellets.
“Hell of a night for a drive,” he muttered, heading for his truck.
Once inside the cab, he wiped snowflakes off his face, fired up the engine and flipped the heater fan to high speed, then took off his hat and let his head rest back against the seat. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he’d fall asleep. This wouldn’t be the first parking lot where he’d stopped to grab a few winks before a long drive.
Might be one of the last, though. He was getting too old for bull riding, too old for the whole damn rodeo lifestyle. Even with a plane to get him to shows across the country, the endless competitions wore him out. The fact that Mark Hansen had hit enough shows and earned enough money to reach the Finals by driving from one venue to the next made him a damn good cowboy. He probably deserved to win the championship based on endurance alone.
Nobody could deny the man’s talent, either. Hansen made sitting astride a two-thousand pound package of bovine dynamite look like a pony ride at the county fair.
Yawning, eyelids drooping, Jesse dragged his brain away from the possibility that anyone but a Cody—all right, this Cody—would win the championship. He visualized the scene on the final night at the Thomas & Mack Center, pictured himself on stage accepting the winner’s saddle, the belt buckle…his dad would have to be proud of him then…
In his dream, the indoor arena stage in Vegas became a simple outdoor platform under the hot Texas sun. “Ladies and gentlemen,” blasted a voice out of the loudspeaker. “This afternoon’s winner in the junior bull-riding division is…Mr. Mark Hansen!”
Jesse watched, gut churning, as a whip-thin teenaged Mark stepped up to claim the belt buckle and a check.
Standing at Jesse’s shoulder, his dad muttered, “Hansen’s got the talent, no doubt about it. You should have that kind of split-second timing. God knows you’re as much a Cody—” The words stopped abruptly.
Jesse didn’t look around when, after a couple of seconds, his dad finished the thought. “As your brothers, and they all got it. You need to work harder, is all. Practice more.”
Applause and cheers chased Jesse as he broke away and fought through the crowd, looking for an exit…
The sharp rap of knuckles on the window right beside his head woke him up. Jesse snorted and jumped, then swore as he fumbled for the window button. The glass slid down and a thick layer of snow fell onto his lap.
“Dammit.” He brushed the snow away, glaring at the woman peering in at him. She’d pulled the hood of her parka over her hair, leaving only her dark eyes and rosy mouth and smooth cheeks vulnerable to the wind and cold. “What the hell do you want, Janie?”
His temper didn’t faze her. “I thought you might have passed out here in the parking lot.”
“After three drinks?” Jesse snorted. “Come on.”
“You’ve been sitting there for two hours. I went shopping and came back and you’re still here.”
“Nah.” He glanced at the clock on the dash. Two hours had, in fact, passed since he got into the truck. “Oh. Well, I dozed off. It’s been a long day. I was in the saddle at 6:00 a.m.”
“So you should be at home asleep.”
“Great. Let me roll up the window and I’ll go do that.”
Janie shook her head. “Why don’t you move to the passenger side and let me drive you home?”
“I don’t think so.” Hearing his own surliness, Jesse shook his head and tried for some good manners. “I appreciate the concern, really, but I’m fine. Take yourself back to Markton and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The woman appeared to be deaf. She reached through the open window, pulled up the handle and opened the door. “Come on, Jesse. Better safe than sorry.”
He didn’t intend to budge. “You’re talking to a bull rider, here. I don’t do safe.”
“Yeah, a bull rider who is supposed to compete at the world championships starting on Thursday night. Wouldn’t you like to be alive for the event?”
He groaned in frustration. “I am not drunk.”
“You’re tired. That’s enough of an excuse.”
“What about your truck?”
“Roberto and Lila said they’d bring it home for me tonight when they close. Come on, Jesse.” She rubbed her gloved hands over her arms. “It’s freezing out here.”
They could argue all night, or he could give in just to get some peace. “I don’t know why I’m letting you do this.” He dropped to the pavement, keeping his balance by gripping the door, since the ground seemed a little unsteady under his feet. “It’s absurd. I’m stone-cold sober.”
“Sure you are.” Janie turned to the small, beat-up truck parked next to his and opened the door. “Put these in the backseat.” A dozen or so shopping bags came at him with the order. Once the goods were stowed, she climbed up behind the steering wheel without looking at him until she’d shut the door between them. “Coming?”
If only to get out of the snow, Jesse rounded the truck bed to the passenger side and swung himself onto the seat, remembering just in time to move his hat. With his safety belt buckled, he sat staring out the window as Janie Hansen, his designated driver, took him home.
Snow powdered the windshield as the streetlights of Cody dimmed behind them on the dark road to Markton. Several inches of the white stuff covered the road pavement, while twice that much had already piled up on the frozen grass.
The storm intensified, and Janie slowed down as visibility decreased. “Are we going to be able to take off tomorrow?” she asked. “If the sky clears, I mean.”
“We can plow the runway.” Jesse rubbed his sleepy eyes with his fingers. “And the plane’s in the hangar, so there won’t be ice on the wings. Don’t worry,” he said, noticing how her teeth bit at her full lower lip. “I’ll keep you and your mom safe.”
She answered with a sigh, which hinted at trouble.
He decided he’d better know what lay ahead. “Is your mom looking forward to the trip?” When Janie didn’t answer, he pushed. “Does she know what’s going on?”
“Sometimes,” Janie said at last. “She wants to watch Mark in the Finals. When she remembers.”
“You’ve told her about the flight?”
She
