The Bull Rider Wears Pink (7 page)

“What do you mean by that?” She
took a sip of water. Her heart was pounding. What did John do to Rachel?

“He's horrible toward women,”
Rachel announced.

Not the answer Cassidy was
expecting. Jeez the man had just congratulated her on qualifying for the men's
division. And he didn't express any of the reluctance Logan
had about her riding with the cowboys.

“How?”
Cassidy asked. She was truly puzzled.

“He called me a harlot and a whore,”
Rachel announced. “And he told Bret
Bodner
to kick me
out of the rodeo.”

That wasn't very nice. God, John
was really taking his undercover work seriously. Maybe all this happened early
in the assignment and he wanted to prove to the rodeo community he was a true
minister. Too bad Rachel was his scapegoat.

Now Cassidy understood why her
sister-in-law hated John. She didn't blame Rachel.

“You could probably call me sexist,”
Logan
admitted. “Especially after today, I'll own up to that one. But I don't hate
women the way John does,” he explained. Then the waitress showed up with their
food. They stopped talking while she settled the plates in front of them.

“Why do you think he hates women?”
Cassidy asked after the server had refreshed their water. Finally the woman was
gone. Cassidy rubbed her nose and tried to keep a straight face as she studied
her brother and his wife. Memories of John worshiping her body in a number of
different ways flashed through her mind. She glanced down at her food. Between
her worry about Kevin and the absurdity of this conversation she had lost her
appetite.

Logan
turned to Rachel. “Well…” He put his hand out. “Not as much this season. He
hasn't said those things to you lately.”

“I haven't run naked lately,” she
replied.

“Just for me,” Logan
cooed.
“Like you promised.”

Okay, time out. Cassidy had already
seen the Logan and Rachel show once today. She couldn’t take anymore. She
picked up her jacket and purse and stood. “I'll see you guys later,” she said
fleeing the table. She could hear Logan calling out, “What,
what’d we do?” as she pushed the door open.

Chapter Five

The organ music played from an iPod
hooked up to speakers in the corner. The podium was a black metal music stand
and the pews were folding chairs. There wasn't a hymnal in sight just
photocopies of sheet music. One of the songs was Crosby, Stills and Nash's
Helplessly
Hoping,
the other James Taylor's
You've Got a Friend
.

“These songs are really old,” Kevin
muttered as he slumped into a folding chair a little too close to the front. “I
bet Grandma Naomi sang them when she was doing that hippy thing back in the
day.” He reached into his backpack and proceeded to take out his laptop. They
were attending the rodeo service because Kevin wanted to hear John talk about
Battlestar
Galactic during his sermon on redemption.

Cassidy rubbed her chin. “Maybe we
should move a few rows back.” She looked around as she nudged her son's leg
with her knee. “We're a little close to the podium, don't you think?”

Kevin shook his head. “I want to…”
he started to say.

“Cassidy Cooper,” John, the man
who'd been called a pervert a number of different ways by Rachel and Logan
yesterday, interrupted with his arms out wide. “The best female rider in the
west,” he added. In a long black robe and a starched white collar he rushed
over with way too much eagerness on his face. John never did eager.

Cassidy put her hands up. Oh no,
she didn't want to hug him. Just smelling the man awakened desires in her that
she didn't want to feel. John wasn't going to back off, with his big smile,
sincere eyes and firm handshake he announced, “Welcome to the fold.”

At least he settled on the
handshake instead of the hug but Cassidy was still uneasy. John never used
words like welcome. Plus, he seemed genuinely happy to see her and along with calling
her the best female bull rider, she was
enamored
, no
matter what Rachel and Logan thought.

“It's really nice to have you here,”
John continued. He touched Cassidy lightly on the elbow. “You've found good
seats,” he added with a nod in Kevin's direction. Kevin saluted him. Whatever
John had done, Kevin came back from the interview with Mike Shannon safe and
sound.

As a result of this man keeping her
son whole and his being so damn supportive of her riding, Cassidy felt her
bones soften, her blood warm, and her skin liquefy. She sat because the feeling
was close to crippling. Thankfully John drifted away as he greeted the other
parishioners.

Cassidy leaned over and whispered
at Kevin. “As soon as this is over,” she told him, “we leave.” She amended her
words. “If there's a break in the middle,” she suggested, “we leave then.” Yes,
she was still waging a campaign against her desire.

It was funny, last year her
yearning for John came from a physical place. Every pore in her body wanted him
hot, sweaty, and naked against her. This year it was from an emotional place,
her heart needed to hear the kind words he was so generously dishing out.

With a firm nod Mrs. Goodwin, the
registration lady, sat next to Cassidy. Cassidy smiled and when she didn’t get
much back, she waved. It seemed the woman still didn't like the idea of her
riding in the men’s division even though nothing was said this time.

“I want to hear the
Battlestar
stuff,” Kevin protested.

“We leave after that,” Cassidy told
him. She shifted in her seat.

Kevin shook his head. “I'm thinking
about writing a story about a virtuous preacher gone
bad
,”
he explained. “I need material.” He wrapped his fingers around the seat of the
chair. “I'm staying until the end. You can go if you want.”

“Virtuous preacher gone
bad
,” Cassidy said slowly her voice going up a little. “Where
did you get that idea?” Kevin couldn't know that John was a jaded cop gone
good
. Cassidy stared at her son. After that comment
yesterday about working for the greater good, she was starting to think her son
was either extremely insightful and on to something, or the things he said were
just dumb luck.

Kevin shrugged. “I don't know.” He
turned his attention to the podium.

“Today,” John started the sermon
after his six parishioners sat down. Two Venezuelan bull riders, Mrs. Goodwin,
one buckle bunny looking like she'd been up all night plus Cassidy and Kevin. “We
are going to talk about redemption.”

Cassidy shifted in her seat. Yes, she
was having her own personal redemption on the back of a bull, where she was
trying to repent for all the painful things she'd done to the people she loved,
especially Kevin. Abandoning a three year old was not good and lying to her
family about her work in L.A. was also bad.

“I thought you were going to preach
about
Battlestar
,” Kevin shouted at the podium.

Cassidy tapped him on the knee and
tried to shush him.

“I'm going to get to that,” John
told the boy. He chuckled in a kindly way. “But first I want to talk about all
the bad things we've done during this lifetime of ours.” His attention was on
Cassidy.
“And how we can find forgiveness.”

She tapped her foot on the worn
carpet. Instead of feeling hot and bothered by John she was now uncomfortable
and self-conscious. She really didn't need this today. Tonight she was riding
with the men for the first time. She needed to get her head in that game both
mentally and physically.

“I looked redemption up,” John
continued, “on the Internet.” He waited for the laughs. He smiled once he got
them, even from Mrs. Goodwin. His innocent charm was contagious. Cassidy
unfolded her arms.

“About.com,” John announced, “tells
us redemption involves going from something bad to something good.” He said it
again, “Going from bad to good.” He waited letting the words sink in. The organ
music played in the background on continuous loop.

“But many of us,” he explained, “don't
believe it's possible to move toward something good.
To
forgive ourselves when we've done something bad.”
He was back to
preaching directly to Cassidy. She looked down at what she assumed was a coffee
stain on the carpet. She didn't need John's
somber
eyes searching her face for something she couldn't give him.

“We don't believe we should be
forgiven,” he continued, his voice persistent and relentless through the small
room. “But once we accept that we've done wrong, fully take responsibility for
that wrong and decide never to do it again.” He took a deep breath. “We can
find redemption through forgiveness.”

“It's a lot harder than it sounds,”
Cassidy leaned over and whispered at Kevin. Her hands clasped in her lap, knuckles
slowly turning white. No, she wasn't going to cry. She wouldn't cry. But damn it,
John's words were landing too close to home.

Kevin nudged her in the ribs. “When
is he going to talk about Commander
Adama
?”

“I don't know,” Cassidy said. She
returned her attention to studying the stain on the carpet. It looked like a
brown cow.

“But we can change,” John
continued. “It's in our hearts to change and God wants us to change.” Someone
in the back called out “amen.” John nodded and smiled a little. He looked
relieved. “Change is in our grasp because God and our families forgive us,” he
added. A little redundant, but it seemed to work, he got another amen, from the
group.

“Redemption can appear to us in all
sorts of ways.” He looked down at Kevin. Again, that kindly smile was on his
face. “Even on television,” he added.

The congregation laughed uneasily.
The group wasn't sure where this was going and Mrs. Goodwin muttered something
about 'Only being here because she'd never seen such a good looking minister in
her life and she needed prayers for her sick husband.' Cassidy had heard Mrs.
Goodwin was struggling to pay his medical bills. The rodeo doesn’t have a
health care plan.

“We've got a young man attending
our service today,” John explained, “who is a big fan of the television show
Battlestar
Galactic.” John took a step toward Kevin. “Just
to give you a little background,” John started, “the humans are wandering
through space. They are mean, nasty, and backstabbing toward each other as they
fight the
Cylons
, otherwise known as the robots.”

John pointed at Kevin. “Have I got
it right?” he asked.

“That pretty much covers it,” Kevin
replied. “Remember they are looking for Earth and lots of murder, mayhem, and
madness happens during the journey.”

“Then,” John continued. “This is
the important part,” he told the group. “When the humans changed their
behavior
, apologized for their misdeeds and forgave each
other they found…” John put his hands out waiting for his audience to answer.

“They found Earth,” Kevin yelled.

“And?”
John asked the group after giving Kevin
a thumbs
up.
He waited another moment. Everyone looked around. He waited even longer. Still
nobody answered.

“They found redemption,” Cassidy
supplied. She had to put the man out of his misery.

“That's right.” John clapped like a
game show host. “They found redemption.” Then he raised his hands in the air,
fingers wide with the palms open. He dropped his head. “The key is to accept
forgiveness in ourselves and others will follow. Please God, help us forgive
ourselves.”

After the prayer he flipped through
his papers finally settling on a page at the bottom. “Let's sing
Helplessly
Hopeless
by Crosby,
Stills, and Nash.” He picked up the iPod, changed the song and pressed play.

This eager and earnest thing John
had going on, along with forgiveness—damn Cassidy was charmed even more. Again,
she tried to fight it, but he was just so awkwardly sweet and it was really
nice of him to include Kevin in the sermon. The old John would have never
thought to do that. Mostly he ignored kids. Maybe that was why Cassidy never
told him about her son.

As Kevin typed on his laptop and
the congregation sang, Cassidy giggled into the palm of her hand. Yes, she was
smitten and decided to enjoy it for a few minutes. When
Helplessly Hopeless
was over, she'd remind herself one last time she couldn't get involved with
John Risk. He was still an undercover cop, fighting the bad guys and living a
life she left behind.

“The good man is trying to run a
service and he doesn’t need you laughing at him,” Mrs. Goodwin scolded after
tapping Cassidy with a pointy finger on the shoulder.

“I'm not laughing at him,” Cassidy
started to explain while leaning sideways, away from the registration lady's
touch. John began to sing along with the next song and Cassidy had to laugh
again. He couldn't hold a tune if his life depended upon it. Sometimes they'd
go out for karaoke with the other cops and John would sit in a corner brooding.
Now Cassidy knew why.

But holy cow, his attempt at
singing in a flat monotone voice was so much more attractive than him nursing a
beer, feet up on a chair, shadows across his face, not talking to anyone.

Mrs. Goodwin elbowed Cassidy in the
ribs.

“Ouch,” Cassidy said rubbing the
spot. “I'm not laughing at him,” Cassidy tried to explain again in a low
whisper. But everyone heard because the room was so small. The Venezuelans gave
her dirty looks while the buckle bunny lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I
was just…” she started, “you see I was thinking of someone else while he was
singing.”

By that time the second song ended
and Cassidy's voice echoed through the room. John smiled, the devil dancing in
the corners of his grin. “Who?” he asked sounding a lot like L.A. John. One
devious eyebrow lifted and Cassidy completely forgot about warm and welcoming
John. Now she was looking back in time and seeing dark and menacing John. Of
course, her heart fluttered.

“Someone I knew back in L.A.,”
she explained, her voice shaking. “A lousy singer,” she added trying to get her
equilibrium back.

Then Mrs. Goodwin had to pile it
on. “Nobody laughed at you when you registered for the men's competition.” The
woman who had worked for the rodeo for longer than forever told Cassidy. “So
you just stop and show some kindness toward this nice man.” She nodded that
wobbly chin of hers firmly at John.

John nodded back. “Thank you, Mrs.
Goodwin,” he said sounding a lot like a choir boy on Easter Sunday. All traces
of L.A. John gone.
“Because now I have a story to tell about
myself.”
He glanced at Cassidy.

She really hoped this story had
nothing to do with her.

John pulled in a deep breath. Then
he pulled in another. Everyone in the room leaned forward in their seats while
they waited for him to talk. He pulled in one more breath, followed by a very
noisy breath out.

The group sighed.

Finally, John worked his jaw up and
down. But no words came out.

“Say it,” one of the men
encouraged. “Speak,” another said.