Desert Heat by Kat Martin Page B

thin man in his thirties with receding brown hair that stuck up all over his head, came racing up beside them, ranting and raving like a lunatic.
    “She tripped over a cable when she ran,” Dallas explained. “Looks like she broke her leg. The ambulance is on its way. It was already headed for the arena.”
    The man knelt next to the little girl, then looked up at Dallas, who had risen to his feet. “You’re going to pay for this. I’m going to sue you people for every dime you’ve got.”
    Charlie strode up just then, and Dallas spotted Patience at the edge of the circle of spectators, her face as white as chalk.
    “What’s going on here?” Charlie asked.
    “Are you the man who owns those bulls?”
    “Yeah. I’m Charlie Carson.”
    “Then I’ll tell you what’s going on. Your bull nearly killed my little girl and you, Mr. Carson, are going to pay for it. This is an outrage and it’s going to cost you plenty. You can expect to hear from my attorney no later than tomorrow afternoon.”
    There were more threats and shouts, but the ambulance drove up just then and paramedics poured out of the back. Patience crossed the grass to Charlie.
    “This is my fault. If I hadn’t been careless and fallen into the pen, the gate wouldn’t have been left open. The bulls wouldn’t have escaped and that little girl wouldn’t have been injured.” Her hands were shaking, her features tense. Dallas had to force himself not to reach out and touch her.
    Charlie shook his head. “This wasn’t your fault, girl. In rodeo, things happen. The latch didn’t catch, or maybe it busted. Maybe them bulls just pushed on the gate hard enough to force it open.”
    “I don’t know, Charlie…” Her hat was missing, her ripply blond hair tumbled around her shoulders. “Somehow I still feel responsible.”
    “You listen here. You wasn’t the guy who closed the gate. If anyone’s at fault, he is.” And Charlie looked like he meant to take a piece out of the guy’s hide when he found out who it was. “Like I said, this wasn’t your fault. If I really thought it was, I’d say so.”
    Patience nodded, but Dallas didn’t think she was really convinced. They walked over to where Ritchie was lying on the grass and Dallas saw that he was in worse shape that it first appeared.
    One of the paramedics worked over him, checking his vital signs. “How bad is it?” he asked the clown.
    “Couple of busted ribs, I figure. I think I broke my collarbone. Hurts like the holy bejesus.” He sighed. “I’ll call Junior Reese, see if he can fill in for me for a couple of weeks.”
    Dallas just nodded. Junior wasn’t one of his favorite people. He and Charlie had bad blood between them going way back and Junior rarely worked a Circle C rodeo. As a clown, Junior was mostly a barrel man, but like Ritchie, he could do the funny bits whenever it was needed. It appeared to be needed now.
    “Take care, pard,” Dallas said to Ritchie, who waved and sank back down on the grass. Walking next to Charlie, Dallas and Patience started back to the arena. They still had a performance to give.
    Halfway there, they stepped off the dirt road, out of the way of the ambulance. Red lights flashed as the vehicle passed by them, speeding off toward St. Joseph’s Hospital in town. As soon as they reached the arena, Charlie disappeared up the stairs to the announcer’s stand and Dallas walked over to get his gear.
    “You were great with that little girl,” Patience said, walking up beside him.
    Dallas shrugged. “I like kids. I’m sorry she got hurt.”
    “I really feel bad for Charlie.”
    Dallas thought of the lawsuit Charlie would likely be facing. He had liability insurance, of course, but the policy limits weren’t that high and the little girl’s father looked like he meant to go for every penny he could get.
    “Yeah,” Dallas said. “Me, too.”
     
    That night, the Silver Springs rodeo wasn’t one of Charlie’s best. The Circle C was famous for