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a bed without wheels under it.”
    â€œI hear ya.” Delon rolled his shoulders, then angled a look toward where Joe stood chatting with another fan, the microphone turned off. “Is he giving you a hard time?”
    â€œNothing I haven’t heard before.” Usually she could ignore it. Cowboys had been making her the butt of asinine jokes since she started picking up broncs as a teenager.
    â€œJoe’s not like most of the guys you know.”
    Yeah. She’d noticed. “We can handle him.”
    Delon aimed another narrow-eyed look at Joe. Then he slapped Violet’s leather-clad knee. “We’re outta here. I’ll see y’all at the ranch.”

Chapter 5
    Joe leaned against the fence, intrigued by the cozy chat Delon had with Violet after his ride. What was their deal, anyway? Other than the kid. That part was obvious, but the rest of it was hard to figure. The whole Jacobs family had fallen all over Delon when he’d showed up the night before, like he was one of their own. Even Cole had paused in the middle of his chores long enough to chat, and Cole took strong and silent to a whole new level. Or should that be height? The guy was a beast, just like his uncle. Joe had noticed, though, that Delon had bedded down in Cole’s trailer, not Violet’s.
    It was hard to picture them as a couple, but Joe could definitely see the attraction. Violet wasn’t hard to look at when she hadn’t been mud wrestling. Joe allowed himself a grin at that memory. Wet or dry, she had that all-American thing going on—tall, strong, the one you’d pick first for your beach volleyball team—but the men’s jeans she favored didn’t do much for her, and she never slowed down long enough to fuss much with her hair or makeup. Violet was in constant motion, organizing this and fixing that when she wasn’t working in the arena…or chasing after Beni. Violet, her parents, Cole, Hank, and the truck drivers all pitched in, tag-team style, to chase Beni. The grown-ups weren’t winning. At best, it was a draw.
    A hand tapped his arm and he nodded and smiled at whatever a chubby brunette said as he took the rodeo program she held out. At least the fans in Texas were happy to see him. Violet was still giving him the stink eye, acting like he was putting her out—an NFR bullfighter showing up to work for peanuts at her little Podunk rodeos. Yeah. He could see why that would be annoying.
    No one should be more pissed than Joe. Damn his stupid hide for letting Wyatt twist his head around and convince him to give Dick a taste of his own medicine. Right. Like that would work. Nobody forced Dick Browning to do anything. Back him into a corner, and he’d just bellow and sling snot like a belligerent old bull, hooking the shit outta anybody who got too close. Joe had lasted fourteen and a half years longer than anyone else who’d worked at the High Lonesome because he understood Dick. Keep your mouth shut, let all the bluster blow right over your head, and a week from now he wouldn’t remember why he was chewing your ass to begin with. Every day that Joe bit his tongue and stuck it out, Dick relied on him more. Put enough of those days together…
    But he’d blown it all in Puyallup. Fate had handed Joe a golden opportunity to prove he could and should be the one who picked up the reins when Dick was ready to set them down, and he’d turned it to dust. Why couldn’t he just stand there and let Lyle make an ass of himself? But no, Joe had to knock the little bastard on his butt, and compound the problem by running off. Now he had to stand his ground because he’d called Dick out. And because Wyatt’s voice kept echoing in his head: Have some pride, Joe. Then he remembered all those people in Puyallup watching, listening…
    Joe signed his name in savage, illegible slashes, passed the program back to the girl, then stepped down the fence