Pete grinned and did some belt polishing of his own as he told Troy, “Me and Cheyenne are dancing.”
“Clayton left.”
Pete whipped his head around, his eyebrows snapping together over his brow, his grin disappearing. “Left? Where’d he go?”
“Rena called.”
Noticing for the first time the worried look on his buddy’s face, Pete dropped a quick, if distracted, kiss on the woman’s mouth. “Stay right there, darlin’. This won’t take but a minute.” Taking Troy by the elbow, he herded his friend toward the empty hall where the restrooms were located and the noise level was somewhat less. “What’s the problem?”
“She’s gone.”
Confused, Pete furrowed his brow. “Rena?”
“Yeah,” Troy confirmed with a sigh. “She’s left Clayton. Packed up the kids and went to her mother’s.”
“Oh, man,” Pete said, swiping a shaky hand across his forehead. “That’s a shame. When did this happen?”
“About an hour ago. She called and left a message on his cell phone. He’s already gone. Hitched a ride with one of the boys who was headed for Austin. Said he needed to check on the ranch and pick up his truck. He wants you and me to take care of his ranch while he’s gone.” Troy sighed again, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. “Problem is, I’ve already promised Yuma I’d haze for him at a rodeo in New Mexico.”
Pete mentally rearranged his schedule. “Don’t worry. I can handle things alone.”
Troy looked at him uncertainly. “You sure?”
Pete reared back, bracing his hands low on his hips. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Some greenhorn?” He swelled his chest and thumped a fist against it. “This here is Pete Dugan, current contender for World Champion Bronc Rider. I believe I ought to be able to handle a little old ranch by myself for a couple of days.”
“I know Clayton wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t desperate,” Troy said, still looking uncertain. “He said his hired hand’s home with the chicken pox. Caught it from his kids. He tried calling Carol, but she wasn’t home.”
At the mention of Carol, Pete sagged against the wall. No, Carol wasn’t home, he thought, swallowing hard. She was right here in Mesquite at the rodeo. He’d seen her himself less than two hours before. “Carol still leases that place down the road from Clayton’s?” he asked uneasily.
“Yeah. And she teaches riding lessons a couple of times a week in his arena. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Pete dropped his head back against the wall and stared up at the shadowed ceiling. “No,” he said, trying to convince himself it was true. “No problem.”
“How soon can you leave? Clayton said he’d wait until you got there.”
“Three hours, max.”
It was nearly two in the morning when Pete bumped his way across the cattle guard marking the entrance to Clayton’s ranch. His eyes gritty from lack of sleep, he dragged a hand down his face and sighed. Ahead he could see the porch light was on…and Clayton on the top step, pacing.
Though Pete knew he’d miss a rodeo or two by filling in for Clayton, he figured if his efforts helped his friend save his marriage, the sacrifice was well worth any loss he might suffer in the standings. Both Clayton and Troy were his buddies, traveling the rodeo circuit with him, and, for all practical purposes, the only family he had.
Forcing an overbright smile for Clayton’s benefit, he hopped down from the truck. “The troops have arrived!” he shouted, then felt his knee give way beneath him. Cursing, he stumbled, but quickly righted himself.
“You’re drunk,” Clayton said, his eyes narrowing.
Pete straightened indignantly. “I am not.”
Clayton stepped closer, sniffing. Curling his nose, he withdrew. “You smell like a damn brewery. How the hell am I supposed to leave my ranch in the hands of a drunk?”
Angered by his friend’s wrongful assumption, Pete tossed back, “Well, you sure as hell didn’t seem to mind leaving your ranch in a woman’s hands for the past three years.”
Clayton whirled, his eyes dark with warning. “My marriage is none of your business.”
Pete took a step toward him, ready to argue the point, but stumbled again when his knee buckled a second time. He sucked in a breath as pain shot up his leg. Setting his jaw, he bent at the waist and gripped his hands above his knee caps, trying to swallow back the nausea that rose.
“You are drunk,” Clayton accused angrily.
Before Pete could offer another denial, Clayton ducked a shoulder into his midsection, picked him up fireman-style and strode for the corral.
“Put me down, dammit!” Pete yelled. “I’m not drunk!”
“You won’t be in a minute.” With no more warning than that, Clayton heaved Pete from his shoulder and dumped him in the horse trough.
Pete came up sputtering, scraping the water from his eyes. He glared up at Clayton. “You jackass! I’m not drunk! It’s my knee, dammit!” He fished his cowboy hat from the murky water and levered himself from the trough. His shirt and jeans were plastered to his body, and water sluiced down his face and dripped from his chin.
“Your knee?” Clayton dropped his gaze to stare at the bandage wrapped tightly around his friend’s leg.
Pete slapped the waterlogged hat over his head. “Yes, my knee. The bronc I rode last night thought the pickup man was taking a little too long in fetching me, so he decided to scrape me off his back on the arena wall. Wrenched my bad knee.”
Clayton ducked his head. “I didn’t know.”
“No, you didn’t. You just assumed. And you know what happens when a person assumes something, don’t you?”
Scowling, Clayton glanced up. Then, heaving a sigh, he slung an arm around his friend’s shoulders and headed him back toward the house. “Yeah. He makes an ass of himself,” he muttered.
“Apology accepted.”
Clayton whipped his head around to frown at Pete. “I didn’t offer an apology.”
Pete grinned and looped his arm over Clayton’s shoulders, letting his friend take most of his weight. “No, but I could tell you wanted to.” His grin widened while Clayton’s frown deepened. Limping along at his friend’s side, Pete felt the water squishing inside his boots and figured they were ruined…but decided he’d take that up with Clayton later. His buddy had enough on his mind at the moment. “You packed and ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Long as it takes.”
“You
