Chase (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 2) Read online

  Chase

  An American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Romance

  Barbara Dunlop

  Chase

  Copyright © 2017 Barbara Dunlop

  Kindle Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-946772-25-1

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  The American Extreme Bull Riders Tour

  The Match Series

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chase Garrett stared at his best friend’s pickup truck parked in front of Chase’s fiancée’s yellow clapboard bungalow in the wheatgrass covered foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Patrick’s black V-8 dually wouldn’t have been an unusual sight—he and Laura-Leigh had known each other since the third grade. But it was four a.m. and the house was full dark.

  Chase supposed Patrick might have tied one on last night and decided against driving home. Not that the dirt roads of the Twin River Valley were diligently patrolled for tipsy cowboys. But it was a possibility.

  Thing was, Chase had been away the past two weeks. He was home early and all set to surprise Laura-Leigh with news she’d been waiting for, a decision that would make her very happy.

  He stepped from his pickup, firmly shutting the door, adamantly refusing to keep the noise level low. Sneaking up to the house would mean allowing for the unacceptable. It would mean he was suspicious. He wasn’t. There was a perfectly acceptable explanation for Patrick’s presence.

  He thumped his boot heels on the wooden porch. If anything, he was louder than usual.

  “Laura-Leigh?” he called out as he opened the front door. “Honey? I’m back.”

  There was a thud and a shuffle beyond her bedroom door.

  The sofa was empty and the door to the small guest room stood open.

  Chase flipped on the overhead light. Its beam showed him a neatly made bed in the guest room, its champagne-colored bedspread wrinkle free, pillows untouched, the green plaid, wool blanket folded in its usual spot at the foot of the bed.

  Frantic whispers sounded behind the bedroom door. Two voices, one a woman’s and one a man’s.

  He thought about leaving. Then he thought about doubling up his fists. In the end, he folded his arms across his chest and waited, letting the outrage pulse its way through his brain as he struggled to come to terms with the appalling reality.

  The bedroom door opened a crack.

  “Chase?” Laura-Leigh’s whisper was paper dry.

  She appeared in her white thigh-length nightgown. It was worn flannel, the lace on the scooped neck frayed in two places. It wasn’t what a woman wore for her first time with a man. This had happened before.

  Her cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes were wide with obvious fear. And she drew the door tightly closed behind her. As if Chase would be too stupid to notice she had a man in her bed.

  “You’re early,” she said, her back pressed flat against the door.

  “His pickup’s in the driveway,” Chase said.

  The color drained from her face.

  The door opened behind her and she staggered back a small step.

  Patrick wasn’t going to leave her to face Chase alone. Normally, Chase would give the man points for that. But there was nothing normal about this. Laura-Leigh was pregnant with Chase’s baby, and their wedding date was less than a month away.

  “I should take your head off,” he growled at Patrick.

  “You can try,” Patrick responded.

  Chase clamped his fists by his side and took a step forward. His best friend might have had his back in barroom brawls from Calgary to Denver, but Chase was going to pulverize him all the same.

  “Chase, no!” Laura-Leigh cried.

  “You’re defending him?” Chase asked her in astonishment.

  “I can handle him,” Patrick told her.

  Chase had expected an abject apology from Laura-Leigh. He’d expected her to throw herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness for her indiscretion. He wouldn’t have forgiven her. What man could do that? But he had expected her to try.

  “It’s not Patrick’s fault,” she cried. “It just sort of—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me it just happened. Betraying your fiancé doesn’t just happen.”

  “Chase, man.” Patrick stepped out from behind Laura-Leigh, one hand outstretched.

  “You want to go at it?” Chase asked.

  He was ready for a fight. He was more than ready. He felt like he was seeing his best friend clearly for the first time. And he hated what he saw.

  “We didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” Patrick said.

  “You didn’t mean for me to find out at all.” Of that, Chase was sure. “What kind of degenerate are you? We’re engaged. She’s pregnant with my child.”

  Patrick and Laura-Leigh exchanged a guilty look.

  Reality slammed into Chase’s skull with the force of a cinderblock.

  “No!” he roared, and he lunged at Patrick.

  Patrick took the first punch without defending himself.

  But then he struck back. Whether it was reflex, or whether he realized that Chase was actually going to kill him, Chase couldn’t be sure. But he tasted blood from a cut lip, and he threw another punch, this one connecting with Patrick’s solar plexus.

  Patrick hunched over, but had it in him to return an uppercut, which sent Chase sprawling.

  “Stop!” Laura-Leigh screamed. “Stop it, both of you!”

  Patrick hesitated, while Chase regrouped. He wasn’t stopping, no way, no how. Patrick deserved everything Chase was set to dish out.

  But Laura-Leigh stepped in front of Patrick again, and Chase instantly pulled himself up short.

  “You’re going to hide behind her?” he shouted at Patrick.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Patrick said.

  “You son-of-a-bitch.”

  “We tried to fight it,” Patrick said. “We tried like hell to fight it, man.”

  “Obviously,” Chase drawled, his mouth curling into a sneer. “You tried so hard, you got her pregnant.”

  He could feel his world slipping away. He’d just sold his spread in Lethbridge. He was coming back to his hometown full time to raise his child on his family’s land. It was what Laura-Leigh wanted, and it was what he thought she deserved.

  “I thought the baby was yours,” Laura-Leigh said to Chase.

  “Do you have any idea how awful that sounds?” Chase asked.

  “I did a test,” she said. “Last week. And…” Her voice trailed away.

  “It could have been either of ours?”
Chase glared at Patrick. “What’s the matter with you? What is the matter with you?”

  “I didn’t know what to do,” Patrick said, looking guilty but defiant at the same time.

  Chase leaned forward. “Let me give you a tip for the future. When in doubt, you don’t screw your best friend’s fiancée.”

  Since it was either go through Laura-Leigh to get to Patrick or leave, Chase turned on his heel.

  He marched out of the house, slammed his way into his pickup, rammed the gas pedal, and snaked down the driveway in a hail of dust and flying stones.

  He made one stop on his way out of town, at the little house where he’d grown up and lived part-time for the past five years. There was only one thing he wanted there, only one thing he needed—an unopened letter from the AEBR, the American Extreme Bull Riders Tour.

  He didn’t have to open it to know what it was. It was an invitation to join the bull-riding circuit. And on the circuit was exactly where he was going. His spread in Lethbridge belonged to someone else now. And the Twin River Valley would never be his home again.

  Chase was leaving, and he wasn’t coming back.

  Chapter One

  The last place on earth Madeline Barrett wanted to be on a Saturday night in Deadwood, South Dakota was the American Extreme Bull Riders Tour event. But her three-year-old son, Riley, had worn her down.

  Along with his tiny blue jeans, scuffed red cowboy boots, and a pressed white cotton shirt, he had a mini Stetson perched on his head. He swung his legs where they dangled from the battered wooden benches of the friends and family stand, leaning eagerly forward, eyes fixed on the ring.

  Anticipation was rife through the crowd as the hot summer sun touched the Black Hills to the east. Music blared from the speakers during a break from the announcer’s patter, and the riders were prepping behind the chutes filled with muscular bulls.

  The sights, smells, and sounds were all familiar to Maddy. They were also bittersweet. Her husband Chase had been happiest here. Even knowing how it had ended for him, far too soon last September, he would have stepped into the chute, rosined his rope, wrapped his hand, and let the world go insane beneath him. It was what he claimed he needed to feel alive.

  “Is Daddy here tonight?” Riley asked.

  The unexpected question, so innocently delivered, blindsided Maddy. For a moment she couldn’t answer.

  “Sweetheart.” She took Riley’s hand and bent her head close to his so she could speak softly. “You know Daddy’s in heaven.”

  Riley looked up at her, nodding. “Uncle Zane said there are bulls to ride in heaven.”

  Her heart squeezed tight and she gave Riley a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sure there are, sweetheart.”

  “Daddy said he’d come home after the ride.” Riley looked straight ahead now, squinting at the activity around the chutes.

  Maddy was at a loss. She’d explained to Riley that Chase wasn’t coming home this time; that he was in heaven now. It had never occurred to her that Riley saw heaven as just another bull-riding town.

  “There’s Uncle Zane.” She pointed in an attempt to distract him. “See his red shirt?”

  “He’s riding Cyclone tonight,” Riley said with an air of knowledge that belied his age. “Cyclone has wicked spins.”

  “Did Uncle Zane tell you that?”

  Riley shot her a look of impatience. “No. I watched it for myself on TV. Can I get mini-doughnuts, Mommy?”

  For the moment, Maddy was relieved to let the conversation move on. “Sure. At the break before the finals, okay?”

  The announcer called the first bull ride, directing the crowd’s attention to chute three and introducing the rider and the bull.

  The pair burst out of the chute, the bull rocking straight into the air, then into an immediate buck. Riley came to his feet, while Maddy held her breath.

  The rider’s form looked good. He was centered, and his arm was high, legs working. But then the bull twisted right, unsettling him. It twisted left. When the rider came down, there was nothing but air beneath his butt. He went straight to the ground, kicking his leg free of the bull’s back.

  Maddy cringed, as he thudded to the dirt.

  The three brightly dressed bullfighters moved in to distract the bull and protect the rider. The rider leapt to his feet and sprinted for the fence, while the bull trotted the length of the ring, tossing its head, looking for something to charge. The safety rider on horseback, ambled after it, readying his lasso to lead the bull away.

  “Tough luck, cowboy,” Riley said, sitting back down on the bench.

  Maddy couldn’t help but smile as her son parroted her brother Zane. Three of her four brothers still frequented the Deadwood area, and she was grateful for the time they’d spent with Riley since Chase’s death.

  The announcer called the next rider.

  He stayed on, but barely, scoring a seventy-one. The next three were bucked off, followed by an impressive ride of eighty-five point five by a Texas cowboy. The crowds gave a rousing cheer and the rider waved his hat in acknowledgement.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, our next rider has an impressive record, including recent wins in Santa Fe and Reno.”

  Chute one was pulled open and a pure black bull burst out. The cowboy was tall, settled square on the bull and seeming to stick like glue. His hand was high in the air, his form near perfect.

  As the crowd cheered loudly, the announcer’s voice grew excited. “Chase Garrett is riding Hammerfall, and showing us all how it’s done.”

  “Mommy!” Riley grabbed onto Maddy’s arm, shaking it. “It’s Daddy. He’s here!”

  Maddy’s stomach bottomed out. “No, sweetheart.”

  Riley climbed up on the bench to stand as tall as possible. “Go, Daddy, go!” he called out. “Ride ’im!”

  “Honey, honey.” Maddy wrapped an arm around Riley’s waist, steadying him. “That’s not Daddy. That’s a different cowboy.”

  “He said his name.” Riley’s eyes were alight with excitement.

  “There are lots of cowboys named Chase.”

  The horn sounded and the rider dismounted, tossing his hat in the air. His grin was wide and Maddy herself did a double take. There was no denying the resemblance to her late husband.

  “Daddy!” Riley shouted.

  Before she could stop him, Riley was down off the bench and running along the stands.

  “Riley, no!”

  But he was beyond listening.

  She jumped to her feet, grabbing her tote bag and rushing after him. She called for him to stop, but there was too much noise. The crowd was cheering, and the announcer was shouting congratulations to the rider.

  “How about a ninety-two?” the announcer called out. “The high score of the night so far. Let’s show Chase just what we think of that effort.”

  The crowd cheered louder while the bullfighters tried to coral the black bull.

  Riley ran along the platform, past the crowded stands toward the chutes and the cowboys.

  “Riley,” she called louder as he ducked and weaved through the spectators.

  She was gaining and she was easily keeping him in sight. But she was worried about what she’d say when she caught him. They needed to leave the event. They needed to go home and have a long talk about death and what that meant.

  He’d barely turned three when Chase had died. It was so much for a young boy to comprehend. He was coming up on his fourth birthday now, and she thought he’d been able to wrap his head around it. He talked about his daddy being in heaven. Until tonight, she hadn’t realized heaven to Riley was still the same as Cheyenne, Omaha or Billings.

  Then he stopped.

  Thank goodness.

  “Riley, honey,” she called out.

  “Daddy.” He reached his hand through the rails of the fence. He was on the stand’s walkway, four feet off the ground, and the rider named Chase was coming in his direction.

  “Daddy,” he repeated, his little hand grasping the air
.

  When the man walked right past him, Maddy thought her heart would break into two.

  Riley shrieked his disappointment. Then he ducked his head and called out again. In a split-second, he was through the rails and falling onto the dirt of the ring.

  The spectators in the vicinity gasped. Then they began to shout. The bull swung his head toward the commotion.

  Crying and wiping dust from his eyes, Riley stood up.

  Maddy ran for the rail, her heart thumping in abject terror.

  The bull lowered its head and ran for Riley.

  The bullfighters shouted, running and jumping, trying desperately to draw the bull’s attention away from Riley.

  The man named Chase turned. He saw what was happening and dropped his rigging, sprinting for Riley. He and the bull were in a dead heat.

  Maddy grabbed the top rail, intending to vault over, but someone grabbed her.

  “You’ll never get there,” they shouted in her ear. “You’ll only make it worse.”

  She struggled to break the hold. “Let me go! That’s my son.”

  The bull was closing in. Riley was crying and rubbing his eye, he was about to be trampled or gored.

  She screamed and Chase launched himself between the bull and Riley, grabbing her son in his arms and rolling beneath the feet of the charging bull. The bull’s front foot caught him square in the back, but he remained protectively curled around Riley.

  Then the bullfighters arrived, shouting and circling. One of them smacked the bull in the head. Another hit it on the rump. The third had peeled off his bright-colored shirt and waved it like a flag.

  It worked.

  They distracted the bull. Chase scrambled up the fence, launching over the top with Riley in his arms, pulling them both out of harm’s way.

  *

  Adrenalin pumped through Chase as his feet hit the solid flooring of the grandstands. A pain shot through his side, but he kept his death grip on the young boy who’d fallen into the ring.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” A woman’s breathless voice penetrated above the announcer and the cheers of the crowd. People pressed in around them, obviously concerned about the young boy and hoping to learn he was alright.