Kentucky cowboy, p.1
Kentucky Cowboy, page 1
Kentucky Cowboy
Bluegrass Reunion Series - Book 6
Jan Scarbrough
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
About the Author
The Bluegrass Reunion Series Returns!
Also by Jan Scarbrough
Chapter One - Kentucky Flame
Thank you!
Kentucky Cowboy: Bluegrass Reunion Series
First published in 2019. This edition published in 2023.
Copyright © 2019-2023 by Jan Scarbrough
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9992474-3-3
Print ISBN: 979-8-9893503-6-0
Edited By: Karen Block
Cover Design By: The Killion Group, Inc.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used, including but not limited to, the training of or use by artificial intelligence, or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
No Generative AI was used in the conceptualization, creation, or drafting of this work.
This edition is published by agreement with Saddle Horse Press LLC, PO Box 221543, Louisville, KY 40252.
Created with Vellum
Prologue
“Short Go” at a Rodeo Event in Dallas, Texas
“That’s one rank sonofabitch. Good draw you got, Romeo.”
Perched on top of a six-foot-deep metal chute, a leather bull rope clutched in his right hand, Judd Romeo nodded, acknowledging the flank man. “Yep, he’s a mean ’un.”
“Ain’t named Bad to the Bone for nuthin’,” the other man said.
Judd turned his attention to the 1900-pound Charolais-cross bull beneath him in the chute. It was good luck to draw last year’s bucking bull of the year. All he had to do was stick on this sucker for eight seconds and he’d have a win. No doubt about it.
Judd expelled a deep breath and rubbed his wet palms across his Wranglers. Pre-ride jitters. Nothing unusual. He’d gotten them before. He’d have them again. If he didn’t get ’em, he didn’t get that edge he needed to stay on one of these big bad bulls.
Still, Judd’s gut twisted as he eyed stock contractor Tim Wilson’s bull. Other riders said this bull lived up to his name, and they talked about how once Bad to the Bone threw up his head and smashed a guy’s face. Yet the bull was allowed back into the chutes, and cowboys kept trying to ride him.
Now it was Judd’s turn. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. A thin line of sweat peppered his lip. He backhanded it off. Winning was the reason he busted his butt on the circuit. He was a professional bull rider and a damn good one. This year he had a legitimate shot at the world title and the million-dollar bonus.
Too bad his father didn’t care.
Why think about Jared Romeo now? His dad had never approved of him, let alone his desire to ride bulls for a living.
He had proven his old man wrong, hadn’t he?
Judd drew a breath. Damn, why was he was chewing on the past when he needed to focus?
He slowly put on his leather riding glove, directing his gaze toward the packed arena. How he loved this life. The noisy crowd. The blaring rock music and high-tech pyrotechnics. The earthy smells of dirt, sweat, and manure. The camaraderie and danger. Eight seconds of heart-stopping thrills. Stunned silence when a competitor didn’t get up. Applause and cheers when the cowboy stood and staggered like a drunk out of the arena.
His father had never understood this excitement. The beauty of man tackling beast.
Mandy didn’t get it either. He had loved that girl in high school, but she had just seen the danger and walked away from him.
Judd looked away from the crowd. Riding bulls was all he wanted to do. All he knew how to do. It was in his blood.
He tried to swallow over the lump in his throat. His mother had appreciated his passion. She had understood.
The chute boss turned to him. “You’re up, Romeo.”
Judd’s head snapped up. “Right.”
His pulse kicked up a notch. Time to ride. This one’s for you, Mom.
Judd rubbed more rosin on his gloved riding hand and tugged his black Resistol hat down over his eyes. He plucked a mouthpiece out of the pocket of his protective vest and popped it in his mouth. Ready, he slipped from the railing and eased down on the bull’s flat back.
Bad to the Bone snorted and shifted in the chute. Judd slid his gloved hand into the leather handle of the bull rope, and another cowboy leaned over the railing to cinch the rope around the animal’s girth. Judd’s lips tightened.
“He usually goes out three or four big jumps,” the flank man warned, “and then spins like a sonofabitch.”
Judd jerked a nod of thanks, his total concentration now on the rope in his right hand. He sucked a deep breath and glanced at the other cowboy beside him.
“You gonna suicide it, Romeo?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn risky.”
Judd knew the risks of a suicide wrap. He also knew the rewards. Expertly, he wrapped the rope around his gloved hand and the bull strap. Next, he split the little finger from the others with a second wrap. For good measure, he pounded his curled, leather-covered fingers with his left fist.
Then with his grip secure, he scooted up over the right hand and tightened his legs against the bull. Blood rushed in his ears. He gulped another quick breath.
“Let’s roll!”
The gate flew open and the bull blew out of the chute jumping high into the air. The animal lunged thirty feet in two jumps and spun to the right, kicking high. Judd gripped the bull rope. Each jerk wrenched his riding arm and shoulder socket.
Riding directly in the center of the bull’s back, he dug the blunt rowels of his spurs into the animal’s hide. His free hand snapped at a ninety-degree angle over his head. His insides churned like a cement mixer.
Bad to the Bone changed tactics and spun faster to the left. Judd went with him. Forcing air through his lungs, he concentrated on staying in the center. He didn’t want to drop down into the middle of the spin. His inner clock ticked away six seconds.
Judd opened up and began spurring the bull. His timing was good. He was making points, but his calves no longer touched the animal’s sides. Any lurch or twist could dust his butt into the dirt.
Damn, this is good. No amount of money could buy this kind of high. He was winning. Riding the rankest damn bull on the circuit and beating the socks off the competition.
The eight-second buzzer signaled the end of the ride. He’d stuck it. The crowd roared its approval.
Like a fool, he kept riding. He loved it. The only thing better would be seeing his father’s face when he won the world title.
Preparing to dismount, Judd yanked the tail of the rope to release his riding hand. The bull switched directions at that moment, bucking hard, and jerked him down and away from his grip. His hand caught up in the rope.
Judd fell, still attached to the powerful bull thrashing beneath him. Whipping from side to side like laundry in a stiff breeze, he tried to get his feet under him to lunge back on top of the creature, so he could release the pressure on the rope. It was the only way to free his hand.
A bullfighter dashed to the opposite side of the bull, grabbing at the rope. “Judd, I’ll getcha’!”
Gritting his teeth, Judd stretched his free hand toward his entangled fist. The bull was too fast, too erratic. Finally, the spinning and bucking motion ripped his hand free.
Judd slammed face first into the dirt. The bull’s hoof skimmed over his head.
A second bullfighter intervened, shouting at the bull and tossing his hat in the opposite direction to provide a distraction. The bull swerved to charge the courageous bullfighter. Judd sucked in desperate gasps of breath and speed-crawled away from the flying hooves and sharp horns. When he scrambled to his feet, he lurched toward the rail.
The first bullfighter reached his side. “You okay?”
Searing pain shot down his right arm and up his neck. “My arm hurts like hell.”
Judd let his riding arm hang by his side. He raised his good, left hand and high-fived the bullfighter. “Thanks, Buzz. I owe you.”
“Just doing my job.” The bullfighter grinned. He reached down and snatched Judd’s hat out of the dirt. Judd took it.
An approving burst of applause and cheers shook the arena. He battled a surge of nausea but still managed to acknowledge the fans with a wave of his hat. Then a doctor from the sports medicine team reached him.
“You got ninety,” the doc said, ushering him out of the arena. “Highest score of the night. Puts you in the lead.”
He had won. It had been the best ride of his life. Winning this event kept him in first place for the world championship title and the million-dollar
Taking deep breaths, Judd reached the gate and turned back to the arena. The barrel man climbed into his padded barrel, his clown smile spreading wide across the white greasepaint that covered his face. The pickup man spurred his horse into position at the end of the arena.
“Let’s look at that shoulder, Judd.”
Judd winced. “Sure, doc.”
Sweat spiked his brow. Although it hurt like crazy, he knew he’d be okay. With a few weeks until the next set of competitions before the October finals in Las Vegas, he had time to heal.
Judd turned away from the noise and the lights. Hot pain throbbed in his shoulder, but it didn’t match the pain in his heart.
He would take care of his arm, and then he would go home to Kentucky. Back to say goodbye to his Mom and take care of her things. Mandy would be there. But his father wouldn’t be.
Maybe it was time to extinguish the torch he had carried for too damn long.
Chapter One
Eagleton, Kentucky, Three Weeks Later
Judd Romeo was home.
Dr. Mandy Sullivan pulled to a stop in front of her house on Maple Street and surveyed the fire engine red Ford pickup parked in the neighboring driveway. She turned off the ignition, grabbed her shoulder bag, and climbed out of the car.
The prodigal son had returned. She swallowed a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
Curiosity because she had not talked to Judd since she had lifted up the skirt of her prom dress and hiked down the state highway in her high heels, leaving him standing by the old Dodge truck he had just driven into a ditch.
Annoyance because of the way Judd had neglected his mother for ten years while competing on the rodeo circuit.
But Judd’s mother Bonnie had never minded her son’s dangerous career.
Pausing, Mandy shut her eyes briefly against the grief of her dear neighbor’s recent death. Even after six months, it still hurt. She’d cared for Bonnie’s houseplants and looked after her house after…well, afterwards.
Mandy opened her eyes to scowl at the shiny truck in the driveway. It was about time Judd did something to settle his mother’s estate. But she would be damned before she would satisfy her inquisitiveness by crossing his threshold. Long ago she vowed never to speak to Judd Romeo again.
Mandy walked across the veranda of the rambling Victorian her parents had lived in until their sudden deaths when she was six. She loved the white, two-story house with its gingerbread blue trim and wraparound porch.
She unlocked the front door, expecting a little girl to bound down the steps to meet her. Nothing. No high-strung Border Collie leaped upon her faded green scrubs either.
“Christie?” Even the babysitter had disappeared.
For twenty years after the car accident, Great-Aunt Jane, bless her heart, had made a home out of this old house and cared for Mandy, her younger sister Marisa, and then Marisa’s abandoned daughter Georgia. Now it was Mandy’s turn to become the mother of her nine-year-old niece.
Mandy pulled a frown. Tired and hot, all she wanted to do was go into her air-conditioned house, kick off her clogs, and put up her feet.
Dropping her bag inside the door, she locked the house again and pocketed the keys. Walking around the side toward the alley, she deliberately avoided the Romeo house.
“Georgia!” Cupping her hands around the corners of her mouth, she hollered again. “Christie!”
No answer. Sweat dampened her bra. Sometimes a nagging sense of self-doubt hit her like the current July heat. She had failed to keep Marisa out of trouble when she was just a kid herself. She had not been home during Marisa’s senior year in high school. Aunt Jane couldn’t keep up with the young foolish girl. What if she had been able to talk some sense into her sister? Stop her from running with the wrong crowd and getting pregnant? Stop her from leaving town?
If she couldn’t be the parent Marisa had needed, did she have what it took to raise Georgia?
Sure, it was an irrational fear, but it was real just the same. Georgia had no one but Mandy after Marisa skipped out and Aunt Jane got too old and tired to cope any longer. That’s why she was determined to be both mother and father to the child.
A deep void settled in Mandy’s chest. This task had seemed easier with Bonnie Romeo living next door. She had been Georgia’s babysitter and almost a surrogate mother. Heck, she had been like a second mom to Mandy.
Mandy swiped away a tear, the heat and sorrow overwhelming. At that moment, Sammy Peters sped around the corner on his rusty blue bike and raced down First Street heading toward Elm.
“Sammy!”
The boy skidded to a halt in the middle of the street, making a perfect sliding stop like a professional snow skier. Then the tousled-haired kid peddled back up the hill, skidding to a stop right in front of her. “Hi, Doc.”
Sammy’s nose was blistered by the sun. Mandy made a mental note to make Georgia wear more sunscreen. “Hi, Sammy Have you seen Georgia and Christie?”
“Sure, we all went next door to meet that cowboy. He’s related to Christie somehow.”
It figured. The arrival of Judd Romeo was going to be a big deal in this small, sleepy, central Kentucky town.
“Thanks.” She smiled down at Sammy. “You better skedaddle on home to supper.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sammy flipped his bike around and peeled off from a dead stop, his pudgy legs pumping a mile a minute.
Mandy changed directions and headed back up the sidewalk and around the corner toward 605 Maple Street. It looked as if she couldn’t avoid Judd now. So much for old vows.
All at once, Mandy’s head started to swim, and she felt like a giddy sixteen-year-old again, in full-blown love with the super cute guy who had moved in next door after his parents’ divorce. Those old conflicting emotions flooded back—the highs and lows of a first crush.
She discovered boys at age thirteen. After she read Jane Eyre for an English class book report, she started dreaming of someone loving her in the way Mr. Rochester loved Jane. She wanted it as badly as she wanted to become a veterinarian.
But she hadn’t been good with boys. Not like her younger sister. She didn’t know how to talk to them or flirt. Blond-haired and blue-eyed Marisa knew these things. They came to her as naturally as breathing. But for Mandy, dealing with boys was a nightmare.
Back then, Judd had been the new kid in town and didn’t know she was the school’s bookworm, someone guys sought out only for help with homework. She was afraid to like Judd, but an unexpected thing happened—he liked her back. They went steady until that horrible incident on the highway when he was drinking.
That night had been tragically too much like what happened to her parents, and she had dumped him on the spot.
Mandy turned down the sidewalk to Bonnie’s two-storied house. She stepped up on the front porch and stopped dead in her tracks.
An old country song blasted from within the house.
Mandy lifted her hand to knock on the front door. Was Georgia singing? Was that rich baritone voice Judd’s?
Mandy lowered her hand and wiped her damp palm on the front of her scrubs. How could she ignore the fact that thoughts of Judd, after all these years, made her head spin and heart flutter?
Get hold of yourself. You’re no longer a teenager with a silly crush.
Heavens, she would be twenty-eight on her next birthday. Judd was the daredevil he had always been, but she was a busy professional woman responsible for raising a child.
She was also no romantic, but a practical person—methodical and intense. She believed in being on time and doing her job. Those traits had gotten her through the grind of vet school where she had managed to maintain some sense of control and also meet the crazy demands of the hard curriculum.
Maybe she was uptight, but somebody had to be. Life couldn’t be run on a whim or a lark. Not without consequences.
