Home > Whiplash (The Champions #2)(7)

Whiplash (The Champions #2)(7)
Author: Janet Dailey

Tess found her bulls and refilled their food and water. Whiplash ignored her and went for the food. Whirlwind sidled up to the rails, expecting his usual morning ear scratch.

Whirlwind had been spoiled by Lexie. As a calf, he’d followed her around the ranch like a puppy. Even as a full-grown bull, he was attached to her. Tess had disapproved of her sister’s making a pet of the bull; but this morning she reached over the rail, found the special spot behind his ear, and gave it a good scratch. Whirlwind sighed and closed his eyes.

“Do your best out there tonight, big boy,” she murmured. “We’ll be rooting for you.”

“Do you always talk to your bulls, Miss Champion?”

Tess went rigid. There was no mistaking that deep voice with its mocking tone. She turned around to find herself face-to-face with Brock Tolman.

Tess was a tall woman, but at six feet four, he loomed over her. Dark, with roughhewn features, he was dressed in spotless jeans, a denim shirt, and a flawlessly tailored black leather blazer. The bolo clip that lay below his collar was a chunk of veined turquoise mounted in Navajo silver that wouldn’t have been out of place in a museum.

From his python skin boots to his custom-made Stetson, every inch of the man exuded money, power, and sheer ruthlessness. For a moment, the rage that welled in Tess robbed her of speech. From the time he’d stolen a piece of choice pastureland from her father to his current scheming to buy her bulls and take over her family ranch, Brock Tolman had proved that he’d do anything to get what he wanted.

Struggling for composure, she found her voice. “I’d watch my step if I were you, Mr. Tolman. You don’t want to get bull manure on those fancy boots of yours.”

He chuckled, a rumble rising from deep in his chest. “Take it easy,” he said. “I just stopped by to congratulate you on having two bulls in the world finals.” His gaze shifted to the pen. “So that’s Whiplash. He’s a big boy. And young as he is, I’ll bet he’s still putting on weight. He could be a full ton by the time he’s finished growing. I hope he gets a chance to buck this week. I’d enjoy watching him.”

“In case you’re about to ask, the answer is no, he’s not for sale. Not for any price, especially to you. Besides, you’ve already got the bloodline in that yearling I traded to Alma Jensen. How did you manage to get your greedy hands on him?”

Tolman ignored the jab. “Just a stroke of luck. Jensen actually contacted me. He almost turned cartwheels when he found out what I was willing to pay for that yearling. Still, it was a gamble. I won’t even know if he’s a bucker till we test him next spring.”

“You’ll forgive me if I hope he turns out to be a dink.”

“He won’t. Not if he’s anything like his brothers. It’s too bad you didn’t register him for the ABBI futurity events. It had to be done before he was a year old. Now it’s too late.”

Tess knew what he was talking about. The organization that kept records of bull lineage also had a program of training and futurity events for promising young bulls, giving them a chance to compete for big money with lightweight bucking dummies on their backs as they matured. Many of the top bulls in the sport had been through the program, and it showed.

Tess shook her head. “That would’ve been like registering a kid for the right preschool so he could get into Harvard. A small outfit like ours can’t spare the time or the money. You’re on your own with the yearling.”

“Understood. But getting him to where his brothers are is going to take years. I’m still in the market for either of your bulls—or both—if you decide to sell.”

“Don’t hold your breath. I wouldn’t sell you one of these bulls for a million dollars. For that matter, I wouldn’t sell you a three-legged mule.”

“We’ll see.” Tolman studied the two bulls in the pen. Tess was aware that he had several bulls of his own in the finals. Clearly, he’d brought along a hired hand to take care of them while he strutted around the arena like a glorified barnyard rooster.

“Have you heard who’ll be riding Whirlwind tonight?” he asked her.

“No, I was just going to—” Tess broke off as she caught the knowing glint in his eye. “You already know, don’t you?”

“I do.” He smiled, clearly enjoying himself.

“Well, are you going to tell me?”

“Maybe. But I’d rather see you beg.”

Tess bit back a curse. “You’re the last person I’d beg for anything, Mr. Tolman. I can always go and find out for myself. But since you’re dying to tell me, why don’t you just save me the trouble?”

Again he chuckled, the sound deep and disturbingly warm. “All right. You win. Are you sure you don’t want to venture a guess?”

“Just tell me.”

“Would you believe R.J. McClintock?”

“You’re kidding.” R.J. McClintock, last year’s world champion, was currently in second place. A successful ride with a big score could put him in first. “And he chose a rookie bull that’s been successfully ridden only once? Why, for heaven’s sake?”

“He didn’t choose Whirlwind. He drew him. But R.J. is a great believer in luck. This early in the competition, he was willing to gamble. So tonight, all eyes will be on your bull.”

Shaken, Tess clasped the top rail of the pen. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me. Now I’ll be on pins and needles all day.”

“I just wanted to see your face when you heard the news.” He glanced at his watch, a high-end platinum Rolex. “I take it you’re going to the interview with Clay.”

“I am.” His use of Rafferty’s first name was not lost on her. The bastard was showing off.

“I’m going, too. I’ll walk with you,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. It was more like an order. Brock Tolman was trying to control her, the way he controlled everyone and everything around him. For now, Tess hid her annoyance. She would allow him to escort her to the interview. But once that was over, she was going to get as far away from him as she could manage. She didn’t trust the man—never had and never would. Right now, he was pretending to be a gentleman. But she knew better. He was as treacherous as a rattlesnake, biding his time, waiting to strike when she least expected it.

“I watched Shane’s commentary last night,” he said as they walked back inside the arena. “He did a good job. I was proud of him.”

“Yes, he did.” Tess had almost forgotten that Shane had shown up on the Tolman Ranch as a homeless teen, been taken in, and had lived there for years. It was where he’d learned to ride bulls. He and Tolman had parted ways this past summer, shortly before Shane’s accident. Despite some hard feelings, Tolman had stepped forward to get Shane the medical help he needed. The man wasn’t a complete monster. But that only made anticipating his moves more of a challenge.

“I suppose you know that Shane’s going to be a father,” she said.

“Yes, I’m happy for him. In a different world, I could look forward to being an adoptive grandfather.”

Startled, Tess glanced up at him. This was something new.

“He didn’t tell you?” Tolman raised a dark smudge of an eyebrow. “But knowing Shane, of course he wouldn’t. After his accident, I offered to make him my legal heir if he’d agree to stay and run my ranch. He turned me down flat. He wanted to strike out on his own.”

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