Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The arena in Billings, Montana was packed to the brim with diehard fans, who’d come out to see the third invitational of the year, in the Professional Bull Riding Circuit. The raw energy in the air had a life of its own, seeping into Gracie like a second heartbeat, making her almost giddy with excitement. Thanks to her incessant begging, she’d managed to persuade Gertrude to let her borrow a small portion of her powers, so that she could go to the event alone. Because she’d made a disaster out of things the last time Gertrude had lent her powers, she was understandably hesitant to give Gracie the reins. However, she and Gertrude had been joined at the hip for the past few days, and Gracie could sense that Gertrude wanted to check on the other angels-in-training, for which she was responsible.

Gracie had promised to act responsibly this time, although that was proving to be a difficult task with the vast amount of power at her fingertips. With a wave of her hand, she’d transformed her outfit to a pair of True Religion Jeans, tucked into a sleek pair of turquoise and suede cowboy boots, similar to the ones she’d seen on the girl line dancing at Gilley’s, in Las Vegas. The snug denim shirt, trimmed in crystal-clear rhinestones and silver grommets, accentuated her curves. She finished off the ensemble with a turquoise cowboy hat. All-in-all, she looked pretty good, if she did say so herself. She’d even gotten a few interested glances from guys, on her way into the stadium, which did wonders to boost her self-esteem. Since her death, she’d been losing her grasp on the person she was before. While Gertrude kept assuring her that it was a good thing to get lost in the service of others, a part of her missed her old self. She missed getting dolled up for a night on the town. And she missed being appreciated by the opposite sex. Getting dressed up made her feel feminine and beautiful. The best part of the whole deal was that she could eat as much as she wanted, without worrying about the splurge ending up on her hips. That was the one big plus of being an almost-angel. As if in answer to her thoughts, a vendor selling chili dogs walked by. She made sure to give herself plenty of cash before coming into the stadium. She reached in her jeans and pulled out a twenty. “I’d like to buy a chili dog,” she said, waving to get his attention. A few minutes later, she not only had a chili dog, but also nachos and a drink. With a contended sigh, she settled into her seat to chow down on the food. Three other bull riders were scheduled to go on before Nash, so she would have time to eat before he rode. She took a large bite of the chili dog and scowled. It was ice cold. She almost called for the vendor to come back and rectify the situation, when it dawned on her that she had the power to fix this. She waved a hand over the food and then gasped when it started smoking. Uh-oh! Too hot! She jumped, startled, as the hot food burned her legs. She knocked the food onto the concrete floor in the process. Cheese splattered all over her jeans. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching. All eyes seemed to be peeled to the action below. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, she erased the cheese from her jeans. Then she picked up the smashed chili dog and tray of broken nachos. Casually, she waved her hand over them. Presto! Good as new. She sat there, pretending to take interest in the action below. Then when she realized that no one was paying attention to her, she began eating. As she munched on the food, her thoughts went to her reason for coming here today.

It had been a week since Brooke’s wedding incident. Her father, Stewart, was beside himself with worry over his daughter. Work had been draining this week, as Gracie patiently listened while Stewart berated himself over Brooke’s shortcomings, questioning what he could’ve done to help her turn out differently. Several times, she kindly suggested that Brooke was an adult, who needed to take responsibility for her own actions. But Stewart wouldn’t listen. “Brooke is a product of her raising,” he insisted. “In trying to give her everything, I’ve debilitated her. If only there was something I could do to help her—a way to make this right.”

Her heart went out to Stewart. Like many parents, he only wanted what was best for his daughter. Still, Brooke was a grown woman, and it was time that she started acting like one. A plan had been formulating in Gracie’s mind, but it was so unorthodox that she was sure Gertrude would nix it before it ever got off the ground. Last night, however, she’d finally summoned the courage to pitch the plan to Gertrude. At first, she balked at the idea, but after Gracie outlined all of the details, she reluctantly agreed to give her the green light.

Then Gracie realized that she’d better go check out Nash Rigby, since the entire plan hinged on him. She looked him up on her heavenly iPad, but all she got was a few paragraphs outlining the cold, hard facts of his life. Even though he was easy on the eyes, she had no idea what kind of man he was on the inside. Well, that wasn’t altogether true. He had to be a little crazy to ride bulls. And he had to be fearless and diehard. After all was said and done, she figured that any guy who was tough enough to get on an 1800 lb. bull was tough enough to handle Brooke. If Nash Rigby couldn’t handle her, there was little hope any other guy could. She’d always heard the saying that love and hate were merely two sides of the same coin. Maybe Brooke’s extreme reaction to Nash was due to the fact that he’d broken her heart. That had to mean she’d once loved him … that is, if Brooke were truly capable of loving anyone other than herself. Evie, Brooke’s mother, asserted that Nash had deserted Brooke because he was having trouble dealing with the loss of his mother. Gracie hoped that was the case, but she suspected Nash might’ve left because he was having a hard time dealing with Brooke. She certainly couldn’t blame the poor man for that.

She polished off the last bite of the chili dog and wiped her hands on the napkin. She scooted to the edge of her seat. Nash was up next. He was riding Lightning Rod. The riders were randomly paired with the bulls through a drawing that took place at the start of the event. In order for the rider to be scored, he had to stay on the bull for eight seconds. The rider could achieve a maximum of 100 points for the ride. 50 points were given to the bull, based on how hard he bucked, and 50 points were given to the rider, based on how well he rode.

Two weeks earlier in Sioux Falls, South Dakota at the kickoff event, Nash made history when he rode Sledgehammer, a bull that had previously been undefeated. Nash seemed to be on a roll. He earned high rankings the week before in Little Rock, Arkansas, which put him in one of the top positions. If all went well today, he’d continue to hold a top slot. The crowd seemed to grasp the significance of Nash’s ride, as all eyes were glued to the chute where Nash was getting settled atop the massive bull. The majority of the other riders wore helmets, but Nash wore a black cowboy hat instead. What kind of person would opt to not wear a helmet? Maybe one who wasn’t afraid to take risks? That was a good sign—a good sign indeed.

The gate opened, and the crowd roared as the bull came out, bucking and twisting like it was demented. Gracie held her breath as the scoreboard clock began its count. Nash’s right hand clutched the bull rope, his left hand balancing in the air. Even from where she was sitting, she could tell from the way he crouched forward, his lithe muscles taut, that he was pitting his will against the brawn of the bull, as it kicked and jumped, attempting to throw him. It was over as soon as it had begun when the clock reached eight seconds and the buzzer sounded. Nash came off the bull and scrambled to safety, as the bull was corralled out of the arena. Nash lifted his hands triumphantly. He ran jubilantly around the ring, pumping his fists into the air. The crowd went wild as the announcer boomed, “Ladies and gentleman, Rigby has pushed through!” There was a slight pause. “Let’s see the numbers. 91 points! Rigby has earned 91 points! This ride makes him the number one man at the Stanley Performance In Action Invitational, going into the next round.” The volume of the crowd increased. Caught up in the moment, Gracie jumped to her feet and began cheering, partly due to the heart-pumping ride and partly because she believed that she’d finally found the man for Brooke. She stopped cold when she saw Nash saunter over to a woman that was leaning over the metal bars of the fence. She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. Gracie’s heart dropped to the floor, as she slumped into her seat. Nash had a girlfriend. A very attractive girlfriend! Now what? A girlfriend would put a kink in her plan. How serious was Nash about this girl? Was she a passing fancy or something more?

“It can’t be all that bad.”

She turned toward the familiar voice, her heart jumping into her throat. “Sheldon? What’re you doing here?” A few minutes earlier, a portly man had been sitting beside her. She’d been so caught up in Nash’s ride that she’d not even noticed that he’d left. And she certainly hadn’t realized that Sheldon had taken his place. She looked him up and down, not surprised in the least that he was perfectly dressed for the occasion. He was wearing jeans, a black shirt, and low-heeled cowboy boots. How could a man look that good? It took effort not to gawk.

He pointed below to where another rider was atop a bull and holding on for dear life.

When the bull bucked the man off before the eight seconds were up, Sheldon shook his head, his mouth forming a mock frown. “Another second and he would’ve had it. Too bad.”

“Yeah,” Gracie agreed, “too bad.” She gave Sheldon a hard look. “So, why are you here?”

Rather than answering, he flashed a dazzling smile that had the power to make her lose her train of thought. She blinked and then looked adoringly at him as a heady warmth rushed over her. Being with Sheldon was like having access to an endless supply of blissful sunbeams, radiating over her.

He leaned in close enough for her to catch a tantalizing whiff of his masculine scent. “I see you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you, love.” He trailed the side of his finger along the curve of her collarbone.

Every inch of her body tingled, and she wanted to give in to the feeling of bliss, pulsating over her. Warning bells sounded in the back of her head. This was not right! She had to get a grip! Summoning all of the willpower she could muster, she backed away from him. “Stop it!”

“What?” he asked innocently, but she could tell from the glint in his eyes he knew exactly what he was doing.

“No more mind tricks!” she said, angrily.

He held up his hands, a playful smile curving his lips. “You can’t blame a guy for testing the waters.”

“Oh, yes I can,” she retorted and then turned her attention to the ride that was taking place below, pointedly ignoring him.

“If things keep going like they are, then your boy Nash is set to win.”

“He’s not my boy ,” she barked and then saw the amusement sparking in Sheldon’s blue eyes. He was thoroughly enjoying needling her, and she was certainly rising to the bait. Then she thought of something. “What makes you so sure that I’m here to watch Nash? I could be watching anyone. Or maybe I just like to watch bull riding in general.”

He laughed and casually draped his arm over the back of her seat. Her pulse jumped up a notch, making her feel like she was the one on a bucking bull, and all she could think about was how close he was to her. Luckily, before she could do anything stupid, Gertrude’s words flitted through her mind, reminding her to stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. She sat up taller in her seat.

Sheldon leaned in. “So, bull riding is your thing, huh? Is it the adrenaline rush you’re after? Because I can think of a few more things that would give you the same rush.” His eyes moved to her lips, as a thousand tingles pulsed over her.

Wow! He was good! Too good! “Not hardly,” she scoffed to cover up her longing. Could angels kiss? She’d never really thought about it. Would it be the same as mortals kissing? Then again, kissing Sheldon would be sublime in any state. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the treacherous thoughts from her head. She was here on a mission, and Sheldon was distracting her … AGAIN! She let out a deflated breath, feeling disgusted with herself.

“Come away with me,” he whispered into her ear.

The air left her lungs. “What?”

“I want to show you something.” He locked eyes with her, and she saw something unexpected—sincerity mixed with pleading. For a split second, she got the feeling that underneath the silky charm, the real Sheldon was crying out for help. Before she could analyze the feeling, it fled.

“I wish I could go with you, but I did come here for a reason.”

Disappointment settled over his features as he nodded. “I figured as much.” His voice grew practical. “Look, I know you’re here because you’re searching for a man for Brooke. And if it makes you feel any better, you’re on the right track.”

“Really?”

“Really.” A genuine smile broke over his face, causing her to soar. “Whether Brooke realizes it or not, she still has feelings for Nash. They have a long history together.”

“I know.” Her brows knitted together. “But how do you know all of this?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. I’ve spent enough time with Brooke to know the situation.”

She was unprepared for the scalding jealousy that popped through her like a firecracker. “That’s right. You’ve been going out with her.” She didn’t try to hide the bitterness in her voice.

He chuckled. “Not jealous, are you?”

“No!” she countered hotly. “But I’m furious that you’ve been interfering! The only reason you’ve been going out with Brooke is to thwart me. I’m sick of your games!”

He met her glare full on. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I have been going out with Brooke, but not because I want to thwart you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

A sly smile stole across his lips. It held just enough condescension to get her ire up. “Must you always look for the bad?”

She let out a harsh laugh. “It’s kind of hard to not see it when it’s glaring like a sunburn!”

He rocked back, a wounded look on his handsome face. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was sincerely hurt or merely faking it. “I was going out with Brooke to make you jealous.”

The words took her off guard, and she was unsure how to answer.

“You look incredible.” His eyes softened as he drank in her appearance. His gaze rested on her curls. “I like the hat.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed. It was so dang hard to be around Sheldon without turning to mush! She could tell from the confident look in his eyes that he knew the effect he had on her. Heck! Turning women to mush was his specialty. “Your flattery won’t work on me!”

He shook his head admiringly. “I know. That’s why I love you so much.”

Love! There was that word again. She hated the hope that sprouted in her breast.

“Getting back to Nash. You don’t need to worry about that girl that he was locking lips with.”

“What?”

“I saw your face when you saw him kissing that girl. Her name’s Shauna, and I think Brooke can take her in a head-to-head match.”

“And how do you know all of this?”

His eyes caressed hers. “I’ve made it my business to know everything about you … and that includes knowing about the people you’ve been sent to help.”

Her mouth went as dry as sandpaper. “Why do you care so much?” she croaked.

A tortured look came over his face, but then he masked it with a smile. “I care. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” The words were spoken lightly enough, but she was puzzled by the mysterious meaning that rested beneath them. “Look,” he continued, “I don’t know all of the ins and outs of your plan to get Brooke back together with Nash, but I do know that you’re on the right track.”

She gave him an appreciative smile. Then she realized with a jolt how much his approval meant to her. The instant the thought surfaced, she squelched it. Sheldon was on the path to becoming a dark angel. She didn’t need his approval! Nor did she want it! No matter how attracted she was to him, she had to keep reminding herself that he was dangerous.

He put an arm around her. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“You’ll see.”

As tempting as it was to go with him, she knew she shouldn’t. No good would come of it. She had to force the words from her mouth. “I’m sorry. I really can’t. I have to be getting back.”

“It won’t take long.”

She cocked her head. “What do you want to show me?”

“I want you to know who I am.”

The sincerity in his eyes was like an arrow that shot straight into the center of her heart, peeling away the protective layers she’d worked so hard to build.

He traced the curve of her cheek. “Please.”

“Okay,” she heard herself say.

A look of pure joy came over his face. “Okay, close your eyes.”

Her eyes shot open as she gave him a wary look. “What’re you going to do?”

He laughed. “Just trust me.”

She let out a breath, butterflies flapping in her stomach. Being with Sheldon was like being on a continual Ferris wheel ride—one minute she was high; one minute she was low, and no matter how hard she tried to make sense of her feelings for him, she just kept going in circles.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, sending tantalizing ripples down her spine.

Against her better judgment, she complied. She thought … hoped he might kiss her. She moistened her lips in anticipation and felt a twinge of disappointment when he didn’t.

He placed his hands on her temples. “Now, I want you to block out everything else around you and concentrate on my voice.”

She giggled inwardly, feeling like she was sixteen. That wasn’t hard to do. When Sheldon was near, she concentrated on little else.

“I’m going to count backward, starting with twenty. Count with me. Listen to my voice,” he commanded. “Twenty, nineteen, eighteen …”

As the counting continued, she had the impression that the crowd around them had vanished. It was only Sheldon and her, and they were suspended in midair. Then blackness swirled around her, and she was falling through some sort of a tunnel. She screamed, her hands clawing for something to hold onto as she spiraled through empty space.

A blinding light flashed before her eyes, and then Gracie was standing on a crowded street. She swirled around, trying to get her bearings. She looked up at the imposing buildings on either side of the street with their terraces and metal fire escapes, and then her eyes moved down to street level to the building nearest her. She took in the vivid red bricks, a pleasant contrast to the hunter green shutters flanking the windows. There were canopies over many of the building entrances. A street lamp drew her attention, and it only took a split second for her mind to register that she was in another time. Cars had been replaced by horse-drawn wagons, and the men and women were dressed in an old-fashioned style, with the men wearing suits, ties, long coats and top hats and the women wearing long dresses with aprons. A young boy was wearing suspenders and a derby cap. It was like being thrown into a live movie set. Dozens of wagons were parked along the street and loaded with an assortment of fresh vegetables and other household items for sale. Clothing hung from the terraces above, flapping haphazardly in the wind like kites that had gotten captured in trees. Somehow, in a way that she couldn’t explain, she knew the city was New York and that the time was November of 1907. The clopping of horse hoofs pounded out a steady beat against the creaking of the wagon wheels, as they turned against the packed dirt on the street, sounding like knee joints cracking. The scent of cooking food invaded her senses, and then she caught a whiff of horse dung. Nausea rolled over her as she touched her nose. She fleetingly wondered why she was here, and then she saw him—the small boy dodging in and out of people. There was an aura of desperation about him. His wavy hair was so black that it was almost blue, and his eyes looked too large for his pale, gaunt face. He was dirty and ragged, and his legs stuck out a good six inches from the bottom of his pants. She moved to get a closer look.

Fear coated Sheldon’s throat as he glanced over his shoulder. He pulled his dilapidated coat tighter around his skeletal frame in order to protect the slight bulge underneath. Louis and his gang had been on his tail ever since he’d managed to snatch the loaf of bread from the street-side vendor. They hated him, not because of anything he’d done, but simply because he was Catholic and Italian—the lowest scum, as far as they were concerned. His stomach growled at the thought of the crusty bread. He’d not eaten a bite since yesterday. Hunger gnawed painfully at his gut, but he pushed it aside and focused on getting to safety. He had to get home to his mamma. She was depending on him to bring home the bread. It would go nicely with the broth she was making. It would be a meager meal for the two of them, but they were lucky to have it. Work was scarce, especially for a single woman and her son. His mamma had managed to provide a roof over their heads and a couple of meals a day—until she got sick. Even though she kept insisting that she was getting better, her cough was getting worse. Last night, Sheldon saw something that hammered spikes of dread through his insides. A fit of coughing had overtaken her, and when she pulled the handkerchief away from her lips, there were drops of blood.

His pulse quickened as he weaved in and out of the people milling along the sides of the streets. Almost there! He could see his building in the distance. He increased his pace to a run. He was so fixated on reaching the building that he didn’t see the boy shoot out from the alley, until it was too late. The boy barreled into him like an ox plowing over a chick, knocking him to the ground. A paralyzing fear constricted around him as Louis and his cronies encircled him. Strong arms jerked him to his feet as he looked up at his worst nightmare. He tried to keep his fear from showing, knowing full well that whatever torture Louis had planned for him would be much worse if he sensed his fear. Despite his best effort, he couldn’t stop the tears from leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

“Look at the little baby,” one of the boys taunted, “he wants his mama.”

“What’s your hurry?” Louis said, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

“No hurry.” He made his voice go an octave lower to hide the squeak.

“Whatcha got under your coat, you filthy wop!”

“Nothing,” Sheldon lied, trying to quell the quiver in his voice.

Louis jerked back his coat and grabbed the loaf of bread. “Who’d you steal it from?” He got up in Sheldon’s face. “We don’t like your kind ‘round here. Scum dagos, trying to take what’s ours. The bread’s now mine!”

“No!” All Sheldon could think about was his mamma, waiting at home, her tattered shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders. Anger snuffed out the fear as he straightened his scrawny shoulders and glared into the face of his tormentor. “Give it back!”

Surprise flashed in Louis’s cold eyes. “What did you say?”

“I said, give it back!”

Louis let out a bawdy laugh and looked at the other guys. “Did you hear that? He wants his bread back.” He shook his head, his eyes growing hard. “I don’t think so.” He bit off a large hunk and spit it into Sheldon’s face. Then he threw the loaf onto the ground and began grinding it into the dirt.

“No!” Gracie cried. She stepped up to the group. “Stop it! Stop it!” She reached to grab Louis’s shirt, but her hand went right through it. Her heart broke for Sheldon. She could taste his fear … feel his hunger, and yet she was utterly powerless to help him.

All reason escaped Sheldon as he let out a shriek that barely sounded human. He tucked his head and attacked Louis, punching and kicking as hard as he could. Louis stumbled backwards, and for a moment it seemed as if Sheldon might get the upper hand. But he was no match for the ruthless giant. Louis came back swinging, and when his iron fist connected with Sheldon’s jaw, it was all over. A sickening pop rent the air as Sheldon dropped to the ground, gasping. He curled into a fetal position, but Louis wasn’t finished. A sadistic light came into his eyes as he began kicking him viciously in the stomach and back. Sheldon held up his hands in an effort to protect his face from the onslaught.

“That’s enough!”

The circle cleared as the boys began backing away. Louis had his back turned and didn’t realize the man was there. The well-dressed man yanked Louis backwards. Louis swore and then turned. He drew his fist to strike and then stopped midair when he recognized the man. His eyes filled with fear as he dropped his fist to his side. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

The man shoved him in the chest. “You are sorry! Now get out of here—all of you—before I teach you a lesson you’ll not soon forget.” The boys turned and ran.

The man pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to Sheldon who was still fighting to catch his breath. A trail of blood ran from his nose, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. “Here, let me help you up.”

Sheldon allowed the man to pull him to his feet.

“You all right?”

“No, he’s not all right!” Gracie yelled. His face was swollen to the size of a grapefruit, and there was a deep cut above his right eye.

Sheldon nodded, but he could hardly stand up straight. Then he looked at the crushed bread that was covered with dirt. He hobbled over and picked it up.

The man’s thick eyebrows bunched. “What’re you doing?”

“I have to get home. My mamma’s expecting me.”

The sight of Sheldon, emaciated and beaten, trying to salvage the filthy bread was too much for Gracie. She put a hand to her mouth in order to stifle the sob that was building in her throat.

The man looked Sheldon up and down. “Who’s your mamma?”

“Anna.”

“Anna what?”

“Carpinelli.”

He grunted. “I heard the name. Talk is she’s had a rough time of it since your papá went back to the old country.”

Sheldon kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

The man spoke with a lusty Italian accent. His tailored suit stretched over his broad shoulders. He was thick with hard muscles—a gnarly tree trunk that had weathered his share of storms. His deep-set, onyx eyes were hooded beneath thick eyebrows. He had a ruddy complexion, and the strong set of his thick chin suggested that he was accustomed to getting his way.

“Standing up to Louis was probably not the smartest move.” The man shook his head admiringly. “But you got guts, patatino. I’ll give you that.”

“I’ve gotta get home,” Sheldon mumbled, moving to leave.

“Wait!” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver coin. He thumbed it at Sheldon who caught it, wide-eyed.

“Take this home to your mamma.”

He gulped. “Thank you, mister.”

The man nodded. “Oh, and maybe you should come around my place tomorrow afternoon. I might have some work for you.” He jutted his thumb in the direction of a nearby restaurant. He turned to leave but then paused and looked Sheldon in the eye. “Don’t let nobody ever tell you that being a wop is a bad thing. You got that?”

Sheldon nodded and looked at the ground.

“Look at me!” the man commanded in a gruff voice.

Hesitantly, Sheldon met his eyes.

“You got that!” the man repeated.

“I got it,” Sheldon said resolutely.

The man grunted. “Go home and clean yourself up. See you tomorrow.”