a big name, but it wasn’t unusual for people who followed bull riding to know who he was.
“Are you done with the circuit?” Thad pushed a foaming draft across the bar.
Trace raised his glass. “Bad shoulder. I should be good to go in a matter of weeks.” Months, he reminded himself. No pushing this recovery as he’d always done in the past.
“It’s got to be rough on the paycheck being out for so long.”
“Doesn’t help,” Trace agreed with a “that’s life” smile.
A group of six or seven youngish guys dressed in matching baseball shirts came in through the back door, and Trace stepped back as they crowded up to the bar. “I’ll tell Gus I saw you,” Thad called as he backed away.
“Thanks.” The place was filling up, but Trace found a quiet table near the empty pool tables, where he sat and slowly sipped his beer, watching the people around him. He was in no hurry to get back to the lonely farm and was therefore in no hurry to finish his beer. It was only 7:30 p.m., so a long night stretched before him.
Another rowdy group of kids dressed as cowboys came into the bar and soon commandeered the pool tables. Trace watched the dynamics in the group, pegged the cocky guy with the black hat as the leader and wondered if he’d looked that stupid after having one too many. A girl in tight silver pants draped herself around Black Hat, who practically shook her off. Silver Pants pouted a little as Black Hat took his pool shot then gave a smirk when the ball hit the edge of the pocket and rolled to the center of the table.
“I told you to rub me for luck,” she said.
And Trace had had about enough people-watching.
He went back to the now almost deserted bar to drop off his glass, and he and Thad started talking again. Thad seemed fine to talk despite being busy at the bar, so Trace lingered a bit before heading out the back door leading to the parking lot. He’d barely stepped outside when he heard a woman cry out and then the sound of a scuffle. He rounded the first row of vehicles in the lot and saw Black Hat and Silver Pants standing next to a tricked-out truck.
“Leave me alone,” the girl yelled. Black Hat didn’t move, so she started slapping at him, until he put his hands up and pushed her back into the truck. Her head struck the mirror, and even though she didn’t appear to be hurt, Trace started toward them. If it had been a couple of evenly matched guys, it would have been different, but this wasn’t an even match.
“Mind your own business,” the guy growled, barely sparing Trace a glance as he faced off with the girl who was now spitting curses at him while rubbing her head with one hand.
Trace stepped in between them. “She asked you to leave her alone.”
“You going to get involved, cowboy?” the guy asked in a deadly voice.
Trace took another step forward, hoping the woman had the good sense to take off while she could. “I don’t want to get involved, but if she wants to go—” Something hit him hard on his temple, knocking him sideways. His teeth clacked together and he tasted blood, but he didn’t go down.
“You get away from us,” Silver Pants shrieked. When Trace turned toward her, the guy swung at him. Trace managed to pull back enough to miss the brunt of it, but the guy swung again, hitting him square in the bad shoulder as he attempted to dodge the blow, and the fight was on. Trace got a couple punches in with his right hand before the guy grabbed his shirt and swung him around. He lost his balance and went down, pulling Black Hat with him.
They rolled in the gravel, hitting one another, the girl shrieking and smacking at them with her purse—the same purse she’d used to coldcock him. Just when Trace got a lucky shot to the jaw, he heard the sound of tires on gravel, and then the reds and blues lit the ground nearby. A pair of rough hands pulled him away from Black Hat and the next thing he knew, his hands were cuffed behind his back, the pain in his shoulder so raw and deep that he could barely catch his breath, much less give his name when the cop demanded it.
“He started it,” the girl sobbed. “He did. We were out here talking and he just attacked us!”
Trace let his cheek drop to the gravel. He was so thoroughly hosed.
“We need to give a statement,” Danielle said as the deputies finished handcuffing the two men who’d been fighting in the parking lot behind the store, not far from Annie’s car.
“Not until they get Shelly under control,” Annie muttered back, even though she agreed wholeheartedly. They’d come around the corner just in time to see Shelly Hensley wallop the guy who’d tried to intercede on her behalf. Typical Shelly move. As the deputy turned her around to cuff her she loudly cursed him out.
“I think it’s safe now,” Danielle said.
Annie nodded and they started across the lot. The deputy looked over his shoulder at them as they approached, and she saw that it was Cullen McCoy, whom she’d gone to school with. “We saw the whole thing,” Annie called as she and Danielle stopped a safe distance away.
Shelly glowered at her in a way that made Annie glad they’d waited until the cuffs were on. “They did not.”
Cullen gave his head a tired shake, giving Annie the impression that it wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with Shelly. Another cruiser pulled into the lot and after a brief conference with the female deputy who stepped out of the car, Cullen jerked his head toward the street. “I’ll talk to you one at a time. You first.” He pointed at Danielle, who followed him a few yards away.
Annie stayed put, shifting her weight and thinking that this was the most excitement she’d had since the girls let the snake loose in the house. The female deputy put her hand under the still-handcuffed rescuer’s arm and when she helped him to his feet, a sound of pain escaped his lips.
Annie’s mouth fell open, then she snapped it shut again. The guy who’d gotten creamed trying to help Shelly was Trace Delaney.
* * *
TRACE GLANCED PAST the female deputy to see who else was witness to his humiliation then swallowed a groan. A leggy blonde woman and...Annie Owen.
Excellent.
Shaking his head, he looked down at his boots, tightening his jaw against the pain shooting through his shoulder. To his left the woman he’d tried to help was spewing venom, and to his right the deputy who’d cuffed him was talking to the blonde. He had no idea where Black Hat was, but his hat still lay in the gravel close to where they’d fought.
He sensed Annie moving, cast another quick look and saw that it was her turn with the deputy. When she’d finished, the deputy came toward him.
“I’m going to ask you to take a breathalyzer test,” he said after checking Trace’s identification.
Trace nodded. He was more than willing to take the test—not that he had much choice in the matter. They’d draw blood if he refused. He blew into the tube and a moment later the deputy unlocked the cuffs.
“Hey! What about Danny?” Silver Pants shrieked before the female deputy took her by
