Clint's Wild Ride by Linda Winstead Jones

Author:Linda Winstead Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2003-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Mary handed the blue balloon animal to the little boy who had requested it. Instead of saying thank you, the kid sneered.

“This isn’t a horse!”

Mary continued to smile. “Of course it is.”

“It looks like a wiener dog.”

Didn’t all balloon animals look like wiener dogs? “You have to use your imagination,” Mary said calmly.

The boy snorted, and after a moment’s consideration gave the balloon sculpture a squeeze that made it burst with a loud pop.

At least the child found that destruction entertaining. He laughed gleefully.

Annoyed but silently reminding herself it was part of the job, Mary moved on. She listened to bits and pieces of conversations, searched for a face that did not belong with the others. There were so many families here, so many excited teenagers. It should be easy to spot her killer in the throng, but she knew it wouldn’t be. If the man she was looking for was one of the crowd, she’d never find him. She sauntered along the concrete mezzanine walk-way, her eyes scanning the multitude of faces. She waved at the kids who waved at her and smiled widely as she handed out the already-made balloon animals that hung from her belt.

But her eyes didn’t stay on the children; they studied every face of every man she passed. There were more than eight thousand people here. She could easily eliminate a large number of men, those who were too old, too young, a smiling man balancing a toddler on his knee. And still, she had no shortage of suspects. Who would have thought that so many people went to the blasted rodeo?

It was time for the last round of bull riding, and Clint was on the arena floor again. She could fight it all she wanted, but the truth of the matter was she loved the way he moved, so strong and unexpectedly graceful, in his cleats and shredded jeans and suspenders. Foolish man! Playing with bulls. What was he thinking? He could stay on his horse ranch. He didn’t need to do this. So why did he continue to come back year after year? What was he trying to prove?

Men.

“Mary, Mary.” The soft, dark voice calling her name came from the shadows surrounding an exit. “Who’s there?” She stepped toward the exit.

“Quite contrary.” Standing out of the light’s glare, she could see that the man calling her name was Oliver Brisco, who wore a strange half smile.

The man gave her the creeps. That wasn’t a particularly professional observation, but if she had a single female instinct, Oliver Brisco set it on edge. “Surely you could get a better seat,” she said casually.

“I prefer to watch from up here,” he answered. “I’ve seen the rodeo before. All my life, in fact. It’s the crowd that interests me.”

Was he looking for victim number nine? “It is an interesting group of people,” she said.

“The kids really love it,” Brisco answered. “And there are always a few people in the crowd who have never seen a cowboy on a bucking horse or a bull, or seen a trick rider.

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