Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trethan
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up again for the third time in about half an hour. I looked back over my shoulder, and sure enough, the man in the corner still stared at me.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Brent, hopping off my stool and stalking over toward the man’s table. “Can I help you?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest.
I didn’t know why him staring bothered me so much. I was trying to have a good night with Brent, and between the frustration of not being able to bet my way toward helping Vanessa with her gallery and now this, I was a little on edge, and I could honestly do with a bit of a fight to get the antsy feeling out of my system.
The man didn’t seem fazed by my argumentative tone, however, and he didn’t look like he wanted to pick a fight. Instead, he just kicked out the chair across from him, inviting me to sit down.
“I’m drinking with my buddy,” I told him. “It’s his last night in town for a while, so if you’ll fuck off and bother someone else, that’d be greatly appreciated.”
“Now come on, just have a seat for a minute, son,” the man said, a lazy drawl in his voice. “You’ll like what I have to say, I promise you.”
I glanced back toward Brent, but he was chatting with Bobby. Finally, I sank into the chair across from the man, who held out a hand for me to shake. “I’m George Jacobsen. I’m new in town. Are you from around here?”
“Yeah,” I said shortly. “My name’s Trethan Frye.”
“Trethan,” George said, nodding. “Well, Trethan, I saw your performance up on the bull. It was quite the show. You know, I really thought you were going to come off right there at the beginning. I reckon you did, as well, but you did a great job of pulling it back together.”
“Thanks,” I said suspiciously, wondering what his angle was. “Did you want to take a shot at beating me? Put your money on the table, and we’ll go head to head.”
George laughed. “Oh no,” he said. “This old body’s bull-riding days are all done, I’m afraid. However, I am a big rodeo fan, amongst other things.”
“You’ve probably come to the wrong place, then,” I told him, shrugging. “White Bluff doesn’t have much of a rodeo scene. That there with the mechanical bull? That’s pretty much the closest any of us come to rodeo. I mean, there are some of us who work with horses and livestock, but there’s no real bull-riding around here.”
“I’m about to change that,” he said, a glint in his eye. “You see, I’m looking to put together an amateur bull-riding competition. I’ve already lined up the sponsors, so all that’s left to do is find the riders.”
“And these riders, what’s their deal?” I asked. “Why would they want to take part?”
“There’s a cash prize,” he told me. “Half the proceeds will go to charity, but the winner will walk away with a cool ten grand in their pocket.”
I stared at him for a moment and then laughed harshly, ready to stand up. “You’re fucking with me,” I said. “There’s no amateur bull-riding competition that would offer that kind of money as a prize!”
“There is now,” he said confidently. “Like I said, I’ve already lined up the sponsors. I’ve got Larry Cobb lined up as an instructor at the riding school I’m opening. All of the sponsors jumped at the chance to be a part of something that has the legendary Larry Cobb involved.”
I stared blankly at him. “Sorry, but I don’t know who that is.”
That scandalized the man. “You don’t know who Larry Cobb is?” he asked, as though the emphasis might make me remember who this guy was. I’d never heard of him before in my life.
I shrugged. “I’m not really into the riding schools and all that,” I told him. “I work out at the Lazy J, but that’s more because John hired me than because I went looking for work on a ranch.”
“Larry Cobb is one of the most famous former professional riders,” George told me. “He was an absolute monster on the pro-riding circuit until a career-ending injury a few years ago. But he’s made his way back, no doubt through many hours of physical therapy, and now he’s agreed to be an instructor at my school.”
“Huh,” I said. I gave George a once-over, noting the slicked-back hair and the expensive-looking cufflinks glinting at the end of his shirt sleeves. He had East Coast written all over him, but for some reason, he was out here, trying to start up a rodeo. He couldn’t have a clue what he was doing. And to think that he was planning to open a riding school on top of that was just crazy.
“Look, not to burst your bubble, but don’t you think that maybe you’re in over your head?” I asked him. “You’re not from around here. You don’t even look the part. Who would trust you with their riding lessons, in your fancy-shmancy suit?”
George laughed. “You know, I like you,” he said. “You’re blunt, and I always admire that in a man. Takes a lot of balls to tell the truth straight, sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes. “You can’t pick rodeo riders just because you like them,” I pointed out.
“That’s not what I’m proposing to do,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Like I said, I saw you on the mechanical bull just now. Your form could use a little tweaking, but you seem pretty solid on there. What’s the longest you’ve ever managed to stay on a real, live bull?”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if I should lie. But there was no way he would let me ride out into a competition without seeing me on the real thing. He’d find out soon enough if I lied to him; better that I just tell the truth. “I’ve never ridden a live bull before,” I admitted.
George’s brows drew together in consternation. “You’ve never ridden a live bull before?” he asked incredulously. “Well, now.”
“I imagine it can’t be too different from riding the mechanical bull, though, can it?” I asked. “I mean, I can ride the mechanical bull at the top setting. That’s got to count for something. I’ve got the record in this bar and everything.”
Someone dropped into the chair to my right, giving a derisive snort as he joined us. “Can’t be too different,” he muttered, looking disgusted. He stared at me with chiseled emerald eyes for a moment before looking over at George. “George, I thought you said you’d found us a man.”
“I think I have,” George said, folding his arms across his chest. “You haven’t seen the boy ride the mechanical bull. I think he’s got something that you could work with. He’s not perfect, of course, and his attitude will need some work, but I think you’ll be able to make a rider out of him.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” I snapped.
“You’re right,” George said, inclining his head toward me. “Trethan, this is Larry Cobb. Larry, meet Trethan.”
I raised an eyebrow at Larry and then glanced around the bar, wondering how many people in this place would recognize him. The rodeo wasn’t a very big deal for most people in White Bluff, but that didn’t mean there weren’t enthusiasts there. Fortunately, no one seemed to be watching our table too closely.
George laid his hands flat on the table. “All right, Trethan, I’m going to tell you how it is,” he said. “I’m willing to let you compete in my rodeo. And in preparation for that rodeo, I’ll let you have lessons with Larry here, free of charge. If you win, you could be walking away with ten thousand dollars.”
“What’s in it for you?” I asked. “You need comic relief when I get myself trampled?”
“Under no circumstances would that be considered comic relief,” Larry snapped, narrowing his eyes at me. “If I’m going to train you, you’re going to need to show some respect for the sport.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who said I agreed to train with you?” I asked. “I still don’t understand what’s in it for you guys.”
“I’d require a cut of your winnings, should you ever end up going pro,” George said. “But we can discuss the logistics of that later. Really, what it comes down to is I need publicity for my school. And nothing would do that better than to have the underdog come out on top.”
“Explain,” I said shortly.
George laughed; but it was Larry who answered. “The crowds will go nuts when they find out that your first attempt to ride a real, live bull came just a month before your first competition. You’re the automatic underdog. Everyone would be cheering for you. They wouldn’t expect you to do well.
“But now, imagine if you were to win the whole thing. Everyone would wonder who managed to train you up that quickly. And when they found out it was me, they’d start paying for lessons at George’s new riding school.”
I frowned, thinking it over. It seemed like a pretty good deal from my end of things. Especially if I was able to win the thing. “I just go out there and ride the bull and see if I can pull the fastest time?” I asked, just to confirm.
“Well, it’s a three-round tournament,” George explained. “So you’d have to get out there and ride it three times. But essentially, yes. All you have to do is get out there and ride it.”
I shook my head. “And what do I get if I lose? I mean, the prize money and some free lessons is a great deal, but if all I’m getting out of this is free lessons, and I have to take time off from work so that I can do the training, then I’m really losing here.”
“We’ll reimburse you for all your travel costs,” George said quickly. “This could be a great way to see a little more of the country. Especially if you turn pro.”
“All that aside,” I said, gritting my teeth. This was starting to sound a little fishy.
“If you lose, you’ll lose money,” Larry said flatly. “But as I understand it, you’re no stranger to betting money on the mechanical bull.”
I raised an eyebrow. “News travels fast,” I said. “That was only the one time. Or twice, rather, but with the same guy both times.”
“I don’t care what it was,” Larry said succinctly. He stood up, shaking his head. “George, fine, if you think this guy’s going to be able to do it, I’ll work with him and see what I can do. But I’m telling you, if I pull this off, there’s probably got to be a miracle involved.”
George smiled at his partner. “He’ll be there, ready to train, tomorrow morning,” he promised. Then, he turned back to me, narrowing his eyes at me. “Won’t you?”
I thought about it for a moment, glancing back toward Brent, who was giving me a look. I needed to wrap this up and get back to him before he started to think that I’d abandoned him.
I tapped my fingers against the table, still thinking. Ten thousand was a lot of money. And it was Larry’s comment about betting on the mechanical bull in the past that crystallized things in my mind. Riding bulls professionally came with a lot of risks. It could even result in my death if I wasn’t careful. But if I could pull this off, I’d have the money that Vanessa needed to open her gallery.
There wasn’t really a decision to be made.
“I have to work tomorrow morning,” I said. “Make it the next morning.”
“Fine,” George agreed. “I’ll have the contracts all set up and ready for you to sign before we get started. Just standard stuff about liabilities and such. And then we’ll dive right in.”
“Good,” I said.