Rough Riders Bundle 1(32)
Her mind drifted to a series of vignettes she’d tucked away in her subconscious. An older couple she’d seen in the beer line sneaking foamy kisses. A cowgirl hiding her tears as she currycombed and talked to her horse. The bruises on a youngster’s arm as he practiced bulldogging on his border collie. The broken look on a young cowboy’s face as he looked longingly at the steel gate separating the contestants from the wannabes.
Real life. Real people. Channing realized this sabbatical wasn’t about getting away from her parents’ expectations, acting the rebel, hiding for a time and then (grudgingly) accepting her destiny. This trip would be the defining point in her life.
The dryer buzzed, jarring her from her reverie. She looked around and smiled. Never in a million years would she have believed she’d experience a catharsis in a dingy laundry room in Colorado.
She folded her clothes and repacked them in her small rolling suitcase and dragged it back to the empty room. Ten minutes later she was still bored. No one told her she had to sit and wait for the trio to return. She was perfectly capable of finding her own entertainment.
After a quick fix of her hair and makeup, Channing ventured into the warm night. Traffic whooshed by. Instead of the heavy fumes of exhaust, she smelled pine. Muffled children’s shrieks ricocheted from the outdoor pool behind the motel office. Up the road on the left she spied a couple of fast food places…and the neon sign of a bucking bronc boasting an honest-to-God, Western honky-tonk.
Yee-haw. No brainer which direction she headed.
Garth Brooks blared from the speakers. Pitchers of beer were refilled almost as quickly as they’d emptied. The bar was elbow to elbow with cowboys of all ages, shapes, and sizes. Hats of all colors. The cowgirls weren’t as plentiful, so Channing had spent a goodly amount of time fending off advances. She began to question the wisdom in coming here alone.
She’d managed to choke down a burger—no fries—in between sips of a Fat Tire beer. The music was good, people were dancing up a storm and she probably would’ve been having a great time if she’d known a single soul. Instead, she was an outsider.
Alone again.
Channing crumpled her bar napkin and decided to call it a night. She spun her barstool around, right into Cash Big Crow.
His mouth creased into a grin that lit up his whole face. “Channing. I wondered if that was you. Where are the guys?”
“I don’t know. They dumped me off at the room. When I became bored waiting for them I went looking for food and fun.”
“Don’t imagine Colby’s gonna be too thrilled when he finds out you’ve been here alone.”
She leaned forward and whispered, “So don’t tell him.”
Cash chuckled. “No comment, but I ain’t got a death wish for keepin’ something from him that he’s got a right to know.”
A right to know. She scowled.
“Any contests going on so’s you can add to your trophy collection?”
“Nah. One trophy doesn’t a collection make, Cash. Unlike you guys always chasing after that next shiny buckle and payout, I’ll quit while I’m ahead.”
“Good plan. So, you wanna take a spin on the dance floor? I promise I don’t do none of that fancy footwork like you see at powwows.”
Playfully, she tugged his braid. “Sure.”
Cash was an excellent dancer and they laughed and two-stepped through four fast songs. Needing to catch her breath, Channing led him off the dance floor and he disappeared to answer his cell phone.
She rested against a wooden pillar and observed the action on the dance floor. One couple in matching Western shirts had to be in their eighties. She wondered how long they’d been together. If they had a big family, a ton of grandkids and great-grandkids. Or maybe they’d been high school sweethearts and after spending their lives married to other people they’d found each other again.
A scratchy male voice said, “You wanna dance?”
Channing didn’t turn around. “No. But thank you for asking.”
“Why not?”
The boozy breath got a whole lot closer.
“I just don’t.” Take a hint, buddy.
“Think you’re too good for me? You can dance with that dirty injun, but not with me?”
Don’t rise to his taunts. Just ignore him.
A gummy hand circled her upper arm and jerked her sideways. Channing tried to pull away but didn’t have much leverage against his strength. Too bad she didn’t have her trophy, she could just clock him a good one.
“Maybe we oughta have our own private party. Outside. I got a big quad cab. The seats are plenty soft.”
She fought the rising panic. There were lots of people in here. Someone would notice this beast strong-arming her out the door, wouldn’t they? Surely, Cash would be back soon. Channing forced herself to look at the asshole harassing her, rather than cowering.