Christmas Baby for the Cowboy (Sweethearts of the Rodeo #4)

Chapter Eighteen

Taylor

T aylor’s boots crunched on the gravel as he approached the small, weathered cabin on the outskirts of Last Stand where his father was temporarily staying. His father’s truck was parked haphazardly in front, a sure sign that Barney was in one of his moods. Taylor considered turning around and leaving.

But before he could act on that thought, the door swung open abruptly. Barney stood there, his wiry frame belying the strength and agility that had made him a legend in the rodeo world. His face, usually painted with the exaggerated features of his clown persona, now bore only the creases of years spent under the harsh Texas sun and the remnants of greasepaint around his eyes.

“Well, look what the bull dragged in,” Barney drawled, his voice a mix of gravel and honey.

Taylor fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Hey, Dad. Can I come in?”

Barney stepped back, gesturing grandly like a circus ringmaster. “Enter at your own risk. Place is a bit of a mess. Packing for Dallas.”

Taylor stepped inside, immediately hit by the familiar scent of leather, hay, and the faint whiff of greasepaint that seemed to follow his father everywhere. The small cabin was indeed a mess, with half-packed bags strewn about, colorful rodeo costumes draped over chairs, and an assortment of props scattered across every available surface.

“So,” Barney said, closing the door and turning to face his son, “what brings you to my humble abode? Surely not just to admire my decorating skills.”

No sense putting this off. Here we go. “I came for Mom’s ring.”

Barney’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under the fringe of his graying hair. “Well, well. Straight to the point, aren’t we? No ‘How are you, Dad’ or ‘Nice weather we’re having’?”

“Dad, please,” Taylor said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Can we not do this? The ring is important.”

Barney’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. He moved to a cluttered dresser and began rummaging through the top drawer. “Important, huh? Important enough to pawn in the first place?”

For a moment, Taylor thought Barney would refuse to give it to him, but when he turned around, he had a familiar velvet box in his calloused hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting it toward Taylor.

Taylor accepted the box, his fingers tracing the worn velvet. He opened it carefully, and there it was—the delicate gold band with its modest diamond. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but it held a beauty all its own. Just like his mother had.

A lump formed in Taylor’s throat as he looked at the ring. Memories flooded back—his mother’s gentle smile, her unwavering support, the way she’d always believed in him, even when he doubted himself. And now, this ring would symbolize a new chapter, a new love.

“Thank you for keeping it safe, Dad. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Barney waved off the gratitude, turning back to his packing. “Didn’t do it for you,” he muttered. “Did it for your mother’s memory. She’d have had my hide if she knew I let that ring sit in some pawn shop.”

Taylor nodded, knowing this was as close to sentiment as his father got. He pocketed the ring, its weight a comforting presence against his leg.

“So,” Barney said, zipping up a bag with more force than necessary. “You heading to Dallas for the UPRC opener on Wednesday?”

Taylor nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “Yeah, I’ve got to be there for the riders’ meeting and first round.”

Barney’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Riders’ meeting, huh? So you’re still set on this bull-riding nonsense?”

Here it was, the conversation he’d been dreading. “It’s not nonsense. I think I’ve got a shot at the big purse.”

“Oh, you’re better than Finn Laker now?” Barney scoffed.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Taylor said, fighting to keep his voice level. “I’ve been training with Trent Campbell. I’m confident I can do this.”

“Your confidence isn’t going to pay the bills, boy. Or have you forgotten you’ve got a family to support now?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Taylor said, fighting to keep his voice level.

Barney shook his head, frustration evident in every line of his face. “You’re going to be going up against riders who’ve been doing this for years. You’re throwing away a steady paycheck for what? The chance to maybe win big?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gambling with your family’s well-being. If you don’t win, you can’t put food on the table,” Barney interrupted. “Or diapers on that baby of yours. Bullfighting might not be as glamorous, but it’s steady work. You know exactly what you’re getting paid, every single time.”

Taylor’s frustration grew. “I can win.”

Barney’s voice softened slightly, a hint of concern creeping in. “And what happens when you don’t? When you come home empty-handed? How are you going to look Loretta in the eye and tell her you can’t pay rent because you didn’t ride well enough?”

The question hit Taylor hard. He’d thought about this, of course he had. But hearing it from his father made it feel more real, more immediate.

“I’ll pick up other work between events if I need to,” Taylor said, his voice less certain now.

Barney sighed, sinking into a nearby chair. “Listen, son. I’m not trying to crush your dreams here. But you’ve got responsibilities now. Real ones. As a bullfighter, you’d have a guaranteed paycheck. Health insurance. Stability. Isn’t that what Loretta and Georgie deserve?”

“I hear what you’re saying. I do. But this isn’t just some whim. I’ve thought about this, planned for it.”

“And Loretta? She’s okay with all this? With you giving up a steady paycheck for the chance of winning the prize money?”

Taylor nodded. “She understands. It’s not easy for her, but she supports me.”

Barney was quiet for a moment, studying his son’s face. “And if it doesn’t work out? If you can’t make ends meet?”

Taylor met his father’s gaze steadily. “Then I’ll figure something else out. But I need to try this. I need to know if I can make it.”

“You’re as stubborn as your mother—you know that?”

Taylor couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, she always said I got the best parts of both of you.”

“Well, good luck to you then. You’re gonna need it in this business, no matter what side of the fence you’re on.”

A small smile tugged at Taylor’s lips. “Thanks, Dad,” he said softly. Then, with a confidence that surprised even himself, he added, “But I don’t need luck. I’ve got Loretta and Georgie. That’s all I need.”

Barney’s eyebrows rose slightly at that, and for a moment, Taylor thought he saw a glimmer of something like approval in his father’s eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He was quiet for a moment, seeming to wrestle with something internally. Finally, he stood up and crossed to a battered old trunk in the corner. After rummaging for a moment, he pulled out a worn leather wallet.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to Taylor. “This was my lucky wallet back when I was riding. Before I saw sense and became a bullfighter.” He paused, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Might bring you some of that prize money you’re chasing.”

Taylor took the wallet, touched by the gesture. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Barney waved him off. “Just don’t go broke out there, you hear? I’m too old to be supporting another family.”

Taylor laughed, feeling some of the tension dissipate. “I’ll do my best, old man.” As the laughter faded, a comfortable silence fell between them. Taylor glanced at his watch, realizing how late it had gotten. “I should probably get going.”

Barney nodded. “Right. Dawn on Wednesday. Don’t be late, or I’m leaving without you.”

Taylor turned to leave, but Barney’s voice stopped him at the door. “Taylor?”

He turned back. “Yeah, Dad?”

Barney struggled with his words for a moment. “I just want you to know, I may not agree with your choices, but I’m proud of you, son. For having the guts to chase your dreams. For putting your family first. Your mother would be proud too.”

“Thanks, Dad. That means everything.”

Barney nodded gruffly, clearly uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “All right, all right. Enough of this sappy stuff. Get out of here before I change my mind about that ride to Dallas.”

Taylor grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. See you at dawn, old-timer.”