The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(64)

The rope clutched in her sweaty fingers was the slim hope she had of distracting the beast. She weighed her odds as movement caught her eye, and she forced herself to look up and away—and right at Ty Martin mounted on Willow. Harold came charging in on his horse right behind Ty.

Both men let go a whoop, and as the bull’s head swung in Ty’s direction, the two men swung their ropes—and missed. Within a heartbeat, Ty had regrouped and swung again, this time catching on the black bull’s smallish horns. A flick of the bull’s head, and the rope was dislodged. In a blink, the bull’s attention refocused on her. And then his head lowered.

“Run right.” Ty’s voice thundered over the clacking of hooves, and Mandy realized he’d maneuvered Willow between her and the bull.

Her feet felt like lead weights, but she followed his directions, aware that Willow was now blocking the sight of the bull as she ran alongside her horse.

From behind she heard Harold whooping and the clattering of several pairs of hooves against the hard pavement.

She could feel her chest squeeze as her legs continued to propel her. She gasped for breath.

“Stop,” called Ty.

Willow pulled up with such abruptness, Mandy was almost past the horse by the time she could come to a halt. Ty leaned over and threw an arm out to encircle her. He freed a stirrup for her use, and she fitted her foot in and grabbed on to him and slung her leg over Willow’s rump. Atop her horse, behind the saddle, she wrapped her arms around Ty’s warm body clothed in soft cotton and leaned her head against his back while she took a deep, lung-filling breath that pulled in Ty’s scent.

“You okay?” Ty called, urging Willow into a trot.

“Yes,” she shouted, all too aware there was still danger. “We’ve got to get him. Before he hurts someone.”

Two more mounted cowhands had ridden into the parking lot. The agitated bull was now prancing between some cars. Whatever few people had been out in the lot had scattered for shelter, and one of the cowboys had gone to the lot entrance to stop any additional vehicles from coming in.

It took several attempts and much whooping and circling, but finally Ty and Harold were able to get a rope around the bull’s neck. They pulled it taut between them, and the bull stopped in his tracks.

Who knew the man could rope?

“Yes, I can rope,” Ty said as he twisted back to look at her as if he’d read her mind.

“You ready, Ty? We can’t afford any slack with this one,” Harold called.

“Ready.”

It took a bit to get the bull back into the pen, but by keeping the animal off balance between the two, the bull had given up fighting and allowed himself to be led. By the time they penned him, he was pretty docile.

Two cowboys stood by, ready to lock the gate.

Once the bull was secure, Mandy slid off Willow and checked the lock herself.

Looking at the two cowboys and the others who had wandered back, she stood with her hands on her hips. Fear had given way to irritation. “I want to know what happened here. Why did this bull get out? I checked these pens myself just a half hour ago. Which means someone had to open it. I want to know who. And why?” She kept her voice calm and even and hoped no one saw the lingering tremor in her hand as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

As if for emphasis, the bull, safely behind bars, charged the side of the pen, creating a clatter. Mandy jumped as her heart landed in her throat.

“We were watering the horses, Mandy.” Doug McClane spoke for him and his partner, Slim Matthews. “The bulls were done first. I don’t know why anyone would even be over here now.”

“That would suggest that someone was up to no good—at Prescott Rodeo’s expense,” Mandy said, trying to ignore the bull, which once again rattled the pen. “You guys ask around,” she told the handful of cowhands who had assembled. “Let me know what you hear.

“Harold, maybe a cowhand should be assigned to watch over these pens. If someone is causing trouble, we need to be prepared.” Ty said as he slid off Willow.

Harold leaned forward in his saddle. “Saunders,” he called to the tall, thin man who usually worked the livestock gates in the arena. “You’re on duty until I relieve you.” Harold turned his attention back to Ty. “That was some pretty good cowboying out there, Ty.”

Ty acknowledged the compliment with a nod as Harold moved out.

Mandy waited as Ty secured Willow to a post, the mare’s coat matted in sweat. He gave the horse a pat on her nose as he whispered words to the animal that she couldn’t hear.

Ty’s strides were purposeful as he walked toward Mandy.

She could still feel the tension needles pricking her limbs. It no longer felt like her legs would hold her weight. Aftershock was setting in.

“You all right, honey?” Ty asked, stopping a few feet from her as if waiting for some signal from her.

At that moment she needed comfort and his strength, and she walked right into the arms he stretched out to her.

“I’ve been better,” she whispered against his shirt as she leaned on him, no longer trusting her legs. “Thanks for helping. That bull might have hurt someone.”

“It might have hurt you. What were you doing out there?”

“Keeping my bull from going after anyone else.”

“So you’re some kind of bullfighter now?” He sounded beyond annoyed, as if she’d done something wrong.