My father says even if his men don’t win, it will work some of the orneriness out of them.”
“I heard about the cattle prize.” Rowdy let go of her hand, thinking that if he entered one event he could walk away with fifty dollars, enough to keep him in food until the ranch sold.
She hesitated another moment, but neither could think of anything else to say. Rowdy watched her walk toward the post office where a banner flew announcing the rodeo.
He fingered the ten-dollar bill in his pocket. If he signed up and lost, he’d starve until he could sell his land and no one in town would likely offer him a job to tide him over. In fact, Laurel Hayes was probably the only person who would talk to him, and she wouldn’t be allowed after her bear of a father found out who he was. After all, at fifteen, they said he killed a man. The facts hadn’t mattered to the town when he’d been fifteen and they wouldn’t matter now.
Rowdy thought of the past five years and how he’d been in the saddle from dawn to dark most days. He’d loved working the prison herd and hated each night when they took him back to his cell. He knew he was good at roping and riding. If he entered the rodeo, he wouldn’t be just riding for the fun of it. He’d be riding to survive. He’d pick the category with the fewest entries, give it his all and collect his winnings.
Walking across to the post office he made up his mind that three days from now he’d be fifty dollars richer no matter what he had to do.
When he reached the registration table on the porch, several cowhands were standing around, but none seemed in line. He walked up and forced himself to stand tall.
“How can I help you, mister?” a man, who looked like a banker, said around a cigar.
“I’d like to enter one event.” Rowdy scanned the choices. Calf roping, bull dogging, tying down for branding, horse racing, saddle bronc riding, steer wrestling.
“Ten dollars for one event, but you can enter all you want for twenty. Then you’d have a chance at the grand prize. A whole herd of cattle.” The banker pulled out his cigar and pointed it at Rowdy. “Now that would make a cowboy a cattleman.” He laughed and waited.
Rowdy stepped away to think. Ten dollars more didn’t seem like much. Maybe he could find something to sell on the old ranch. His father used to have a box of tools in the barn. All together they might be worth ten dollars. But he’d never make it to the ranch and back in time, much less make the sale. The only thing he had of value was his saddle and if he sold that he’d have no way of winning any event.
Turning the corner of the building, he bumped into Laurel in the shadows. His hand shot out to steady her. “Sorry, miss.” With his fingers curved at her waist, he realized he would have known the feel of her even if the shadows had been black as night.
She looked embarrassed that they’d been so close, but she managed to nod her acceptance of his apology.
He relaxed. “Hiding out?”
She nodded again.
Her plan was painfully obvious. She hadn’t been invited to lunch. It was too early to go back to the surrey, and she couldn’t just wander the streets. The small alley between the bank and the post office offered refuge.
He tried to think of something to say. “I’m thinking of entering the rodeo.”
She managed to look up, her cheeks still spotted with embarrassment. “Best all-around?”
“No, it’s too expensive.” Now it was his turn to look down. He shouldn’t have told her that. The town idiot could figure out that he had more than ten and less than twenty dollars to his name.
They stood, silent for a while. He was too tall to see her face unless she looked up, but he felt good just standing near her. He’d been more boy than man when he’d been sent to prison. The smell of a woman had almost been forgotten.
Finally, he found words. “I thought I’d go take a look at the stock being brought in. They were starting to unload them when I got off the train. Would you like to walk over with me?”
“Yes . . . I’d like that, Mr. Darnell.” She didn’t look up.
He thought of telling her that