“It’s okay.” She sniffed and held out her hand. “We’ve got a deal, Harper. Seventy-five thousand.”
He clasped her hand and shook it in a tight grip. When he didn’t let go, she pulled away forcefully.
Then she turned and walked out of the stall.
* * *
How she ended up at Diablo’s pen, Dusty wasn’t sure. She sat down, her back supported by a bale of hay, while the bull scruffed and snorted inside. She was alone. Everyone else was at the stock show or the rodeo. The practice rings were deserted but for a few ranch hands here and there. Just as well.
He had said he’d be her loudest cheerer. What a crock. Someone should have clued him in to the fact that it was impossible to cheer for the woman who had shared your bed when there was another woman’s tongue stuffed down your throat.
Did it have to be during her race? Couldn’t he have at least pretended to care?
She looked up at Diablo. The bull was staring at her calmly. She had the strangest feeling that Diablo knew she was sad, that he wanted to help her.
Zach might prefer sweet Mary Ann to her, but she could at least get her paws on his half mil purse. It was even more important now. Since that damned phone call…
With half a mil she could buy back Regina as well.
She rose and searched the bull’s body. The flank strap was in place and looked about right—not too tight. Later, she’d berate Zach for leaving the strap on the animal while he was resting, but for now, he was ready to ride.
She looked Diablo in the eye. “It’s just you and me, big boy,” she said sweetly. “Just you and me. No one else is here. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
She began to sing her Irish lullaby, this time reaching for the bull’s flank and gently running her hands over his soft pelt. She walked around the pen, continuing to sing, and then reached his head and looked straight into his eyes. The animal was relaxed. It was time. She unlatched the gate and entered the pen.
Diablo didn’t flinch as Dusty approached him. She latched the gate so she was locked in with him and moved to stand beside him, continuing to sing. After about ten minutes, she climbed up on a hay bale to mount him. And the most amazing thing happened.
He laid his body down in the soft dirt.
Dusty clasped her hand over her mouth, and tears welled in her eyes. He trusted her. He lay down so she could mount him. What a sweet, sweet animal.
She continued to croon to him as she lifted one leg over his large body and sat down gently, resisting her own weight at first and then adding it little by little until her full weight was on Diablo’s back. She sat there for a few minutes, letting him get used to the feel of her, and then she leaned forward slowly, pressing her chest and then her cheek into his soft, bristly fur.
Oh, she was nervous, but she calmed herself, understanding that Diablo would draw from her emotions and her body language.
“What a sweet boy you are,” she crooned, gently nudging her cheek into him.
She remained calm when she saw a pair of denim-clad legs walk toward the pen. She didn’t know whose, but she was pretty sure they didn’t belong to Zach. She knew his walk and his legs fairly well now.
“Shh,” she said softly. “Don’t frighten him.” Her cheek was still nestled in the bull’s back.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man said, nearly whispering. “I’ve never seen such a thing. That’s a killer bull, Dusty.”
Okay, this person knew her. “He’s no killer. Just a misunderstood animal. He’s sweet and gentle.” She edged her gaze upward to the face of the stranger.
Harper Bay.
“Don’t come any closer,” Dusty whispered.
“I won’t.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to try to get him to stand up. When I’m ready, I want you to open the gate.”
“You’re going to ride him?” Harper’s voice was a little louder than Dusty was comfortable with, but Diablo didn’t react.
“Shh,” she said again. “Yes, but only if he’s ready. He may not be. And that’s okay. He’ll let me eventually.”
“But you don’t have any gear on.”