And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) Read online

  AND

  THEN

  YOU

  DARE

  Heather A. Buchman

  Volume 5 in the

  Crested Butte Cowboy Series

  Copyright © 2015 by Heather A. Buchman

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Cover by Sparrow Marketing & Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ISBN-10: 1-942200-06-4

  ISBN-13: 978-1-942200-06-2

  I love her for the universe in her soul,

  galaxies in her mind,

  the constellation in her eyes that refuse to

  stop it’s shine.

  I love her for all that she is

  because of her I became all that I am.

  —H. Phan

  More from author Heather A. Buchman

  Crested Butte Cowboy Series

  And Then You Fall

  And Then You Dance

  And Then You Kiss

  And Then You Fly

  Coming Soon

  And Then You Sing

  East Aurora Linger Series

  Linger - Book One

  Linger - Book Two: Leave

  Coming Soon

  Linger – Book Three: Leave

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  As with most writers, ideas come flying at me from every direction. One of my books was inspired by a very simple social media post. Another was a conversation overheard at a coffee house.

  The impetus for this story came from a beta reader, who told me over dinner that she’d love to know Bill and Dottie Patterson’s story. A visit to a friend’s ranch added more depth to their history, and then a serendipitous conversation with a former bull-riding cowboy added yet another dimension.

  And then there’s Bullet. This is a character who is flawed. He makes terrible decisions, and is often the epitome of a “bad boy,” yet I hope those who read this book grow to love him as much as I do. Bullet is a composite of so many bad boys—real and imaginary.

  Special thanks to Kymberlee Bruton, Angelina Darling, Carolyn Depew of Write Right Edits, Erlinda Figueroa, Paige Gregory from RodeoChat, Diana Heckethorn, Scott Pavick from Lost Cowboy, Carolyn Hodges, Paula and Rollie Johnson, Vicki Mynhier, Greg Robinson, Claudia Swenson, and Tyler Timmons.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  The bull he’d gotten on the night before wasn’t just a rank bucker, he was mean as all get out. There wasn’t anywhere on his body that Bullet didn’t hurt.

  His ribs still ached from getting under one a few months ago, and if the weather was cold, it hurt to breathe. His twenty-four-year-old body felt more as though it was forty, or sixty.

  It didn’t help that he was back in Oklahoma, or that he’d gotten drunk the night before, simply because he didn’t want to face the shitstorm his life was becoming. Maybe that’s why his body hurt so badly, because it was being pulled in so many directions.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in Colorado, living his dream. He came to expect the calls from his mother-in-law, telling him to get “home,” because his baby needed him. Each time it made him feel worse than the time before, because it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

  They were supposed to be a family. Every few weeks, they’d try again. Each time it ended worse than the time before. The last time was so bad he knew there wouldn’t be a next time. As he held his baby boy in his arms, the child’s mother attacked him. And she did it in front of her entire family.

  She was sick. If she’d just take her medicine, none of this would happen. But she refused. The slightest thing could set her off, and he never knew what, or when, it would be.

  He’d been in Oklahoma a couple days when he heard the local stock contractor was bucking bulls. He had to get on one. Had to. Riding bulls was in his blood. He thought about it all the time, even dreamt about it.

  His sister called it adrenaline-addiction, but it wasn’t criticism. She was the only one in his family who understood. Even though Lyric hadn’t ever tried to ride a bull, or a bronc, or even barrel-raced, no one understood rodeo better.

  She was the founder of RodeoChat, a social-media-based outlet for rodeo news. Lyric managed to keep her finger on the pulse of rodeo around the world. She knew the schedules, statistics, and habits of the cowboys and cowgirls who competed across the field in every event. Since it’s founding, Lyric had interviewed hundreds of them for her weekly Twitterviews and YouTube videos.

  That’s why she understood. When he tried to explain how he felt to their parents, Lyric backed him up. In fact, she compared it to their dad’s life.

  “You know how it feels,” she told him. “To be on stage, in front of thousands of people. It’s the same thing for Bullet, just a different thing drivin’ it.”

  As the lead singer of Satin, one of the most successful international rock bands, Caleb Simmons was no stranger to adrenaline-addiction.

  “Thousands of people aren’t threatening to kill me when I’m on stage, that’s the difference.”

  Every time Bullet got on the back of a bull, he knew he could die. It was that simple. Eight seconds. That’s what it took. If he could stay on the back of the bull for eight seconds, he’d conquer both the beast and himself.

  His mother shook her head and looked between him and his father. “Neither of you will ever grow up.”

  “It’s why you love me so much, isn’t it Guinevere?”

  Bullet envied his parents’ relationship. It was as if they were still dating, even though they’d been married over thirty years, a rarity in the music industry. He wished he could find a woman to build a life like that with.

  It hurt to roll over, but he needed to charge his phone, and see how many messages his soon-to-be-ex-wife left him. It was early, maybe there wouldn’t be any yet this morning. Oh Jesus, worse than he thought. There were ten calls from his mother-in-law. What the hell? The woman was becoming a pain in his ass. He’d listen to her messages later.

  He checked his texts. More texts from her than voice messages. He rubbed his eyes, and tried to focus enough to read. His head was pounding. How much had he had to drink last night anyway?

  He didn’t read through all of them, it wasn’t necessary. The last one she’d sent was the only one that mattered.

  Callie in ICU at Mount Mercy GET HERE.

  ***

  “Hey Daddy. I’m calling to let you know I landed safely, and I’m checked into the hotel. You can call back if you want, or we can talk tomorrow.”

  Her father insisted Tristan call when she traveled, especially when it was on behalf of th
eir family business. It didn’t matter that she was turning twenty-seven in less than a month. She was still his little girl, he’d tell her, and it was his duty to make sure she was safe.

  Duty was an oft-used word in her father’s vocabulary. As were honesty, integrity, faith, and family. They built their business on those words.

  Tristan’s daddy and granddad started Lost Cowboy Company two years ago, wanting to offer American-made apparel that was inspired by the “Cowboy Way.” Their goal was to remind people that the ideals our nation was built on were not lost. Their ads, social media posts, the clothing they offered, even how it was made, represented a strong adherence to the principles her family lived by.

  She had a meeting the next morning with the guys from Flying R Rough Stock. They’d spoken a few times since their first meeting at the National Finals Rodeo. They were close to finalizing a deal in which Lost Cowboy would partner with them to sponsor competitors on the rodeo circuit.

  Billy Patterson, a former Saddle Bronc National Champion, was one of the primary partners in the rough stock contracting business. His involvement gave Flying R a foot in the door to every rodeo circuit in existence. It would take her months to lay the groundwork she would be handed by teaming up with them.

  Jace Rice had also been at most of their initial meetings. She liked Jace as much as she liked Billy. They were the kind of men that embodied the principles of the Lost Cowboy brand. She’d heard Jace was married to a woman who’d lost her first husband in the war in Afghanistan.

  Their other partners, Ben Rice and his brothers, Matt and Will, were Jace’s cousins. Ben attended a couple of their meetings, but she didn’t know him as well as she knew Billy and Jace. Ben was the lead singer of the band CB Rice. He was married to a former barrel racer, who’d placed fourth at NFR a few years previously.

  The meeting tomorrow was at their headquarters, the Flying R Ranch in Crested Butte, Colorado. Tonight she was staying in Gunnison, near the airport. When she said she’d rent a car, Ben’s wife, Liv, insisted either she or one of the guys would come get her and bring her to the ranch.

  Liv invited her to stay with them. “We have more room than we know what to do with, it would be silly for you to stay anywhere else.”

  Tristan spent enough time traveling and staying in hotels, that she accepted the invitation without hesitation. If they were able to nail down the details of the partnership on this trip, she’d be spending a lot more time with the Flying R team. She might as well get to know the people she’d be working with.

  ***

  Bullet listened to the messages from his mother-in-law, but it was hard to get anything more out of them other than Callie was in the hospital, and he needed to get there right away.

  It took him less than five minutes to throw his gear in a bag and get on the road. It would take him over an hour to get to the hospital, which wasn’t far from where Callie’s parents lived.

  Where was his son? She didn’t mention Grey in her messages. He called his grandmother, the woman who raised him and his sister while their parents were on the road with the band. She didn’t live far from Callie’s parents. Maybe she’d know.

  “Hey Gram—”

  “Oh Bullet, I’m so glad you called. Callie’s parents have been tryin’ to get in touch with you. Something awful’s happened—”

  “I know, I’m on my way to the hospital right now.”

  “Oh thank goodness, Callie—”

  “I’m sorry to keep interruptin’ you, but do you know if they have Grey with them?”

  “They didn’t tell you? Grey is here with me.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. It’s Callie that’s in rough shape. You better get to the hospital quick Bullet.”

  “I’ll be over once I’ve been there. Tell Grey his daddy loves him.”

  “I will Bullet, and I’m so sorry.”

  Before she said anything else, Bullet said goodbye and hung up. Whatever was going on with Callie wasn’t something he wanted to hear over the phone.

  Bullet pulled the truck over and looked up at the sky. “Lord, thank you for keepin’ my boy safe, and please lay your healing hands on his mother.”

  He rested his head against the steering wheel. It had been one clusterfuck after another since the day he met Callie.

  The night he met her, she was drunk. And underage. And about to get in a shit-ton of trouble. Against his better judgment, he agreed to get her out of there and take her home. That actually wasn’t what she’d asked him to do. But until she was sober enough for him to determine whether she was at least over eighteen, there was no way he’d take her up on what she offered.

  He had to stop twice on the drive to her house that night, so she could throw up alongside the road. At least she gave him enough notice that he had time to pull over. If she’d gotten sick in his truck, he might’ve been tempted to let her walk home.

  Two years later, it hadn’t ever gotten better. Drama was her middle name, and if it didn’t happen on its own, Callie created it. He wasn’t sure now if he would’ve married her if she hadn’t gotten pregnant. Sometimes he thought he probably would have. Other times he hoped he was smarter than that.

  When he found out they were having a boy, he told Callie he wanted to name him Henry Greyson, after his granddad on his mother’s side. She liked the name, so she didn’t give him a hard time about it.

  It hadn’t been that simple three years ago, when his first child was born. The baby’s mama fought him on the little girl’s name every step of the way. It wasn’t the only thing she fought him on. In fact, there was little she didn’t fight with him about. He knew what was behind it. He refused to marry her. And he’d wanted a DNA test to prove he was the father.

  When the tests came back positive, they settled on Hannah Pearl. He’d wanted his little girl named Pearl. He didn’t know why really, he just loved the sound of it. He called her his perfect Pearl, never Hannah. It drove the girl’s mama crazy, but he didn’t care.

  His daughter lived in Texas with her mama full-time. She moved there to be closer to her family, which meant a twelve-hour drive each way in order to see Hannah Pearl. He didn’t get to see his daughter very often, and they were long overdue for a visit.

  When he got into town a couple days ago, Callie was on a bender. He’d finally found her in a town or two over, drunk as shit, but with her cousin, thankfully. He picked her up, carried her ass to his truck, and drove her home. She railed at him the whole way, but he’d learned to tune her out.

  She seemed better yesterday, although she wasn’t very talkative. She usually had a laundry list of everything he’d done to piss her off. Not this time.

  When he left last night, she was sound asleep. Grey was too, in the crib in her room. Her parents weren’t home, but he figured they would be soon.

  Bullet drove past the hospital and pulled into the bar he saw across the road. He needed a drink before he faced whatever trouble Callie got herself into this time.

  He downed three shots, one right after another, not missing the looks the pretty bartender was giving him. Any other day, he’d stick around and see what else she’d give him, but today he couldn’t.

  He threw a twenty on the bar, and stood to put on his jacket.

  “Where you goin’ cowboy?” she pouted.

  “My wife’s in the hospital—” He was thinking about offering to come back, but as soon as he said the word wife the bartender glared at him and walked away.

  “Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk in the lobby.

  “Uh, yeah. Let’s see, my wife is in the ICU. I think that’s what the message said. Lemme look.” He pulled out his phone. “Yep, the ICU.”

  “Name?”

  “Bullet Simmons.”

  The woman waved her hand in front of her face and glared at him. “Her name is Bullet?”

  “No ma’am. That’s my name. My wife’s name is Callie.”

  “Take the elevator to the fourth fl
oor, and turn right. You’ll need to show your identification when you get up there.”

  He turned the corner and waited for the elevator.

  “Drunkard comin’ to see his poor wife who’s in intensive care. Wonder what put her there?” He overheard the woman say to the person in line behind him. He was damn sick and tired of people thinking Callie’s problems were because of him. Damn sick and tired of it.

  Right after they married, his in-laws sat him down and told him Callie was bipolar. Might have been nice if they’d told him a little earlier. Maybe they thought he wouldn’t have married her if they had.

  While she was pregnant she was good about taking her meds. After the baby was born, not so much. She was afraid they’d affect her breast milk, and she was determined to breastfeed. Grey wasn’t ten days old when she had her first fit. That’s what Bullet started calling them—fits. He had no idea what started it, but suddenly she was screaming at him. Then she pummeled him with her fists. It took him a minute to react, and when he did, he was able to hold her at arms’ length. When she couldn’t reach him to hit him, she turned her head and bit his arm.

  He’d almost backhanded her that day, out of instinct, but stopped himself. Before it could get worse, he left. He was less than a mile away when he turned the truck around. What was he thinking? He couldn’t leave their baby alone with her.

  When he got back to the house, she was on the bed, sobbing into a pillow. The baby was in the bassinet next to the bed, also sobbing. Screaming was more like it. He called her name, but she didn’t appear to hear him. Was this what it was like when she was home alone with Grey? Did she just leave him in his bassinet screaming?

  He picked the baby up that day, and drove to his in-laws’ house. Later that night he moved Callie, the baby, and himself in with them. He hadn’t wanted to, but he didn’t see he had any choice. They’d agreed it wasn’t a good idea to leave her alone with the baby.