His Last Rodeo

“You have enough money, you could get your own place.”

“I did get my own place.” He’d explained it all a few times now, but he tried again. “There’s a lot of land behind the bar. Maybe I’ll raise bulls on it, eventually. But ranching isn’t all I want.” Tyler cast around for the words to explain. The restless feeling. The need to connect with others after years of hotel rooms and training. “I think ranching’s a little too solitary for me. I like being around people.”

“Suit yourself.” His dad shrugged, looking as mystified as he always had when it came to all things Tyler.

“Trust me, Dad, it’s gonna be good.”

His dad squinted, as if by changing his vision he could somehow change his son as well. “Well, we aren’t a hotel, son. We expect you to earn your keep around here.”

Tyler felt his dreams shrink so small they’d fit in his jeans pocket. “Which is why I’m looking for a new place to live. I appreciate you letting me stay a few days, but we both know that won’t work out so well in the long run. I’ve got a few leads on some rentals in town.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

His dad nodded and turned away, striding toward his office. Hurrying away from the one son who made no sense to him. Who never had. Who probably never would.

Tyler watched him go, wondering what it would take for his dad to see him as a success. A long time ago he’d thought it would be all those junior rodeo trophies. When he grew up, he thought it would be winning the world championship or making good money. When he decided to retire from rodeo, he thought it might be buying a business and a big piece of property. But nothing had changed. In Ken Ellis’s eyes, Tyler was just a disappointment. The third son, who didn’t fall in line with the first two. A problem he couldn’t fix. Same as always.

Tyler glanced at the congealed meal and shuddered. He scraped the food into the garbage and rinsed the plate. He needed coffee and lots of it. He wished he could eat at the café in town, where the food was hot and the waitresses flirted with him. Where he could be reminded that for a few sweet, short rodeo years, he’d been a hell of a lot more than the Ellis family loser. But he had work to do. So he grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and went to find his brothers.

* * *

THE CHESTNUT GELDING Tyler had borrowed nickered low at the sight of the two horses tied to the pasture fence. He picked up the pace, eager to be with his buddies.

At the sound of their approach, Tyler’s brothers looked up from their work. Parker stopped cranking the wire taut and grinned. “You finally out of bed, princess?”

Miles was kneeling, hammering in a staple to hold the wire to the fence post. He finished, then joined the fun. “Oh, look who decided to join us. I thought celebrity bull riders were too important for ranch work.”

Tyler tied his horse near the others and made his way through the thick spring grass. “I doubt I’ll ever get too self-important with you two clowns constantly busting my balls.”

“We’re just glad you got your beauty rest.” Miles grinned, not willing to let the joke go. “In case you have any modeling gigs coming up.” Older than Tyler by two years, Miles took special pleasure in tormenting him. One time he’d shown up at a rodeo in Reno carrying a giant pink sign with the words I Love Tyler written in rainbow letters. That sign had made national TV and the other bull riders had teased Tyler about it that entire season.

“What’s with coming home hammered?” Parker was the oldest and took that role seriously. Maybe losing their mom before any of them were out of junior high had grown him up too fast.

“I went out with Eric and Mitch. They bought shots to celebrate my new bar.”

“You’re a lightweight,” Miles teased. “It’s all that granola and kale you eat.”

“Gotta keep fit.” Tyler’s answer was automatic. Followed by the realization that he didn’t actually have to keep fit anymore. Not in bull-riding shape, at least. The idea left him a little hollow.

“Well, you stumbling in singing was like nails on a chalkboard for Dad. He was ranting about it this morning,” Parker said.

“Yeah, he ranted when I saw him just now.” Tyler grabbed his work gloves out of his pocket. “What can I do to help?”

“Bring a few of those posts over, will you?” Miles jutted his chin to indicate the large pile a few yards away. “And we need that bag of concrete out of the truck.”

Tyler nodded. “You guys think Dad’s going to get over me buying a bar?”

Parker shook his head. “Doubt it. You know Dad. Ranching’s the only job that makes any sense to him.”

“But I got over it,” Miles chimed in. “In case you were worried. I’m looking forward to free beer.”

“Come on by and I’ll start you a tab,” Tyler shot back. “And I’ll bill you for it at the end of each month.”

“No family discount?” Parker added with uncharacteristic humor. “Cheapskate.”

“Not until I’m running in the black. Right now the place is a money pit.”

“So why’d you take it on, then?” Parker asked.

“Because I can make it great.”

“You and your big goals.” Miles grinned. “Isn’t it tiring being so ambitious all the time?” He put a gloved finger to the side of his face, as if he was thinking. “Hmm. I think I’ll join the army. Boot camp sounds fun. No, maybe I’ll become the best bull rider in the world. Now I’m going to buy a dive bar and convince everyone that it’s cool. Yeah, that’ll be relaxing.”

It was such an accurate portrayal that Tyler couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe I find it relaxing to try to meet my goals. I like pushing forward. Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t.” Parker sent Miles a strict glance. “In fact, maybe someone around here could use a few more goals.”

Miles took the chiding with his usual good nature. “What, you don’t think working for you and Dad is the definition of success? Because it sure is fun.”

“Fun until a daddy of one of the girls you chase comes out here with a shotgun.”

“That’s when I hide behind my big brother.” Miles shoved Parker on the shoulder. “Hey, Tyler. Can you grab those posts? Or are you worried you’ll break a nail?”

“Shut up, Miles.” But Tyler walked to the pile and grabbed a couple off the top. “I wanted you guys to help me with something.”

“No beer, no help,” Miles said and grabbed the handles of the posthole digger.

“What do you need?” Parker asked.

“I plan to fix up the barn at my new place. It’s not in such bad shape—should be done in a few weeks. I want to get a few horses. And a couple bulls.”

“Bucking bulls?” Parker eyed him shrewdly. “I thought you were done with rodeo.”

“I want to offer a class or two. Get some local kids started in rodeo.” Tyler set the posts down near Miles.

“I’m sure parents will love you for that. Especially when one of their little darlings breaks a neck.”

“Bull riding’s the fastest-growing sport in the country.”

“Doesn’t make it any less crazy,” Parker said.

“You don’t have to like it. But can you help me get some bulls?” It didn’t matter to Tyler that Parker wasn’t a great fan of bull riding. His brother had a better eye for cattle than anyone Tyler knew.

“I can ask around to see if anyone has the stock for that. Horses will be a lot easier. You thinking about some trail riding?”

Tyler nodded. “Trail riding, light ranch work. Quarter horses would be nice, but I’d consider other breeds.”