The Surrender Series

Chapter 1-2

Eight seconds? He wouldn’t need eight seconds; he’d put that woman over his knee and tan her hide for risking her pretty little neck. It niggled at him that he was the one who should protect a woman, not the other way around, and he definitely didn’t need strange women saving him. He wasn’t helpless. Would never be helpless. A black cloud rolled through his mind, whispers of the past…he slammed mental gates down, blocking it out.

neverFenn hobbled, leaning against George’s shoulder every few steps. He threw one glance back to the other side of the arena and caught sight of the siren in the red dress standing behind the fence, watching him. Long waves of red hair danced about her shoulders, playing across her collar bone. Her full lips were parted as though she was surprised. She was a real vixen. God didn’t make many women who looked like her. Full curves, sculpted features, a mouth made for sin…And she’d been the one to save him. That pissed him off. Really pissed him off.

ReallyHe turned his back on the woman and looked straight ahead.

“How many seconds did I make it before…” He trailed off, unable to look at George. Shame prickled beneath his skin. He hadn’t been thrown that badly since he was sixteen.

“Uh…seven point three seconds. Sorry.” George had known how important this was. If a rider couldn’t stay on for eight seconds, he didn’t qualify for a score. No score, then no shot at the winnings and therefore no shot at saving The Broken Spur Ranch from foreclosure. In just one night he’d gone from having total control over his life, knowing he could save the ranch by winning the prize money, to having a shitload of nothing. Not having control made him cagy and restless.

The ranch was the place he’d spent the last half of his life calling home. If he couldn’t save it, he’d be losing the only place he felt any connection to. He refused to fail, refused to let Callie and Jim down.

“Is Callie here?” He didn’t bother looking around. He wouldn’t be able to spot her if she was here. The crowds were always heavy in the fall, when the stadium was filled with bigger rodeo competitions. The small Colorado town of Walnut Springs exploded with tourism several times a year between summer hiking, fall rodeos, and winter and spring skiing.

“Callie came. She said Jim’s still in the hospital. Should be let out tomorrow. I saw her—”

“Fenn!” A little female blur of color tackled him just as he passed through the last gate and exited the stadium.

“Oomf!” He grunted at the impact of Callie’s body against his. “Ease up, kid. Wounded man here,” he cautioned, but smiled at her when he saw the concerned expression straining her lovely features.

She was only twenty, a sweet kid, and more like the little sister he’d always wanted, but she was also strong both inside and out.

“Sorry.” Callie dropped her arms and bit her bottom lip. Tears welled up in her hazel-green eyes. “I saw you fall out there and freaked out.” Her hands smoothed down her western-style pink plaid shirt, and she shuffled her booted feet in the dirt.

“Hey, it’s okay. You know I’d never go and die on you, sweetheart.” His brotherly instincts kicked in, and he pulled her into his arms, pain be damned. Her honey blond ponytail swished a little as she tried to turn her head and burrow into him. He gently released her and stepped back.

“How’s Jim? I thought he was getting out today. George said he’s not leaving until tomorrow.” Fenn cut his gaze to George, who gave him a curt nod and left them alone.

Callie sighed. “You know how Dad is. Grumbling about Jell-O and wanting to escape out the window when the nurse turns her back. I tried to tell him that most people take minor heart attacks seriously.” She rolled her eyes, but Fenn didn’t miss the flicker of shadows that followed.

He wished he could ease her worries, but he didn’t know how to fix something like this. Heart attacks were one of the few things Fenn couldn’t control. Jim would either get better, or he wouldn’t, and he and Callie would have to deal with whatever happened when it happened.

They walked over to the medical tent. A doctor wearing jeans and a white coat waved them in before turning back to a female barrel racer with a nasty cut on her forehead. There were four portable medical tables and a massive emergency care kit inside the tent. Most of the injuries suffered here were scrapes, cuts, and occasional bruises.

Serious injuries were always a possibility if there were any bull-riding activities. The Walnut Springs rodeo staff were worried enough about it to post an ambulance next to the medical tent just in case a mad dash to the nearby hospital was needed. Fenn had never needed any treatment after a ride, not once since he’d started this as a teenager. The thought was a bit humiliating that he’d ended up here at the age of thirty-three. Damn, he was getting old, or maybe it was all of the mileage he put on his body, the hard labor on the ranch and the riding. He definitely wasn’t a youngster like Callie.

He eased down onto the medical table farthest from the other rider, then lay back on it. His entire body went limp, as though finally realizing it could relax. The adrenaline had run its course, and now he was crashing. Everything hurt. The full-body crash to the sand had not been kind. His chest felt as though something heavy was still pressing down on it, squeezing any air out and barely letting oxygen back in. Every bone in his legs and arms ached, as though his entire body had been beaten by a baseball bat. His ankle hurt the most; the pain radiated off it in sharp pangs. Getting his boot off was going to hurt like hell.

“You okay, Fenn?” Callie’s sweet, adorable face appeared in his line of vision as she leaned over the table and stared down at him.

“Do me a favor, kid. Take off my boot before my ankle swells.”

“Sure.” Callie disappeared from view, and then the pain hit him like a passing coal train as she tugged the boot off.

He hissed, arching his back and then muttering several choice curse words before the agonizing pain eased somewhat and his vision stopped spinning. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

“I’m so sorry. I bet that hurt,” Callie’s hand touched his forearm, stroking him lightly.

“It’s fine.” Never show them you hurt. The age-old mantra came to him from the gloom of the past, slicing his chest with inner pain. He’d made that vow so long ago, but he couldn’t seem to remember why. He patted her hand before he rubbed his temples with his fingers.

Never show them you hurtHis mind kept jumping back to what he’d seen as the bull had been throwing him. None of it made sense…he’d seen things…heard things. None of it really made sense. Was he going crazy? Finally having a psychotic break? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had such concerns. When he was eight years old, his father moved them out to Walnut Springs, and he’d had terrible headaches and hallucinations.

It was only after he’d spent a few months on pain meds and in therapy sessions that the pain had gone away. But when he was thirteen his father died, and the nightmares and headaches came back. Jim Taylor and his daughter Callie had saved him. He’d moved onto the Broken Spur and started working to pay his way. The home Jim offered him had been a wonderful escape from the realities of living as an orphan. The Broken Spur was his home now, and the bank would foreclose on it in a matter of weeks. The thought was a depressing one. He’d had the chance to save it tonight and he’d blown it.

“Callie?” he asked, opening his eyes again.

“Yeah?” She was gazing at him, her eyes full of adoration and puppy love. He’d tried to ignore it, but he knew she adored him. It was a pity he just didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get the money. I promised Jim I would.” His throat tightened. His eyes burned and he blinked hard several times. What was it Jim used to say? Cowboys never cried. Funny, Jim was closer to being his father than Lewis, Fenn’s actual father, the mysterious man who’d said little and kept them clothed and fed with odd jobs around town for five years before he’d died.

Callie tried to flash him a smile, but it wilted at the corners of her mouth. “It wasn’t your job to save it. Don’t blame yourself. Dad and I will figure something out. We may still qualify to modify the loan. I’ve been trying to get the paperwork filled out. There’s still hope.”

Hope. He didn’t like hope. It was a fickle emotion that often yielded no results. Yeah, he wouldn’t be betting on hope anytime soon. Not only that, but whenever he thought about it, the mere idea of hope filled his heart and soul with an all-consuming despair. It was a visceral reaction he couldn’t explain, like recoiling from a snake. He just reacted without knowing why. He only knew that he would never trust anything to hope. The only thing he could bet on was himself.

anythingThe doctor helped the other patient out of the tent and after the woman left, he he wandered over to Fenn. With a grunt, Fenn managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and face the middle-aged doctor.

“Heard you got thrown from Tabasco.” The doctor smiled pleasantly as he talked, as though discussing a near-death experience was completely normal.

“Yeah. My right ankle hurts.” He raised his boot-free foot up. The doctor lifted his leg at the calf and then rolled the ankle gently. Fenn huffed harshly as pain shot through him again.

“It’s moving fine. It’s a nasty sprain.” The doctor picked up his small clipboard and jotted a few notes on it before he looked at Fenn, smiled and clicked his pen and tucked it into his coat pocket.

“Treat it with ice for the next several days, keep it elevated to reduce swelling and…” The doctor was still grinning, as though amused by some private joke. “No riding. I know you boys are the worst sort of patients when it comes to restrictions, but I mean it. No riding.”

“Fine,” Fenn grumbled. The injured ankle was then wrapped up tight in a brace and Fenn took the crutches the doctor offered.

“Good. Come see me at the clinic tomorrow if you need anything for the pain or you think it’s getting worse.”

“Will do.” Fenn promised as he slid off the exam table, landing expertly on his good leg. He pushed his hat down on Callie’s head. She laughed and tilted the brim back so she could see.

“Let’s go home.” The vision of that red-haired beauty running across the sand, little bare feet flying as she saved him and risked her own damn neck…that was something he had to forget, but he knew he was going to spend the rest of the night thinking about her and how he’d like to punish her for doing something so stupid.

Who was she? And more importantly, why had she risked her life to save him?