Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(53)

“A little. But mostly it feels good to ride.”

“You looked better than you have in a long time.”

“Thanks. Think anyone else recognized my ridin’?”

“Maybe. Most folks will chalk up the similarities to coincidence, kinda like I did at first. ’Cause no one would ever believe Chase McKay would be competing in a PRCA rodeo in Broken Bow, Nebraska.”

Chase chuckled. “True. That’s why I’m keeping a low profile around other riders and with the public.”

“That’ll be hard to do since you won,” Ryan said.
The officials herded them back into the arena for the winners’ presentation.
The older guy who helped Ryan in the chute said, “Great ride, kid.” He offered his hand to Chase. “Taz Lashlee.”

“Good to meet you, Taz.”

“I ain’t seen you around the circuit.”

“Been off doin’ other stuff. Thought I’d give it a go again.” Chase folded his arms over his chest. “Sorry I missed your ride.”

“I was last out. So I covered my bull. Not pretty, like you done, but I’m good with finishing third.”

“How long you been rodeoin’?”

Taz’s smile was missing a few teeth, which wasn’t unusual in the world of rough stock riders. “Longer than is smart, that’s for damn sure. I got a whole lotta try in me for bein’ so long in the tooth.” He grinned again.
“Taz also rides bareback,” Ryan inserted. “And he’s being modest. He’s made it to the world finals three times. Twice in bareback and once in bull riding.”

“That’s awesome, Taz. Congrats,” Chase said. “Where’s home for you?”

“Here and there. I spend most my time on the road. Seen a lot of this great country. Met a lot of fine folks.”

Then Chase understood. Taz was part of a dying breed, men so obsessed with rodeo they’d given up anything resembling a normal life. The lure of a championship buckle proved too strong, and like an addict, Taz couldn’t separate himself from his fix of possible rodeo glory. Being a rodeo cowboy was all he knew. All he wanted to know. Chase remembered being at an event with Colby, and the late night conversation at the campground about old timers competing on the circuit. Both Colby and his traveling partner, Trevor Glanzer, swore they’d quit before they gave their entire lives up to the sport.
Being a new competitor at the time, Chase hadn’t understood ever giving up the thrill of riding. But the longer Chase stayed in the business, the clearer his future became. He never wanted to be that guy—the grizzled fifty- or sixty-something rodeo dog—living out of his truck, with nothing to show for his life except aches and pains and stories about life on the road.
So how many more good years did he have left? What would he do with his life? His future?
“Got awful quiet there,” Taz said. “You okay?”

Chase offered him a smile. “Yeah. I just realized I’ve gotta meet someone.”

“A female someone?” Taz asked, elbowing Ryan and winking lewdly.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Nice meeting you guys.”

“You gonna be ridin’ around here again?”

“I’ll be outta Nebraska until the two day event in Scottsbluff next weekend.”

Ryan’s face lit up. “Awesome! We’ll be there too.”

“See ya then.” Chase snagged his equipment bag and exited the contestant area. He’d no more than cleared the gate when three women surrounded him. The old Chase would’ve smiled charmingly, flirted outrageously, made plans with one or all of the buxom buckle bunnies. The new Chase kept his head down after the “Nice ride, cowboy” comments, and sidestepped them.