The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife

CHAPTER SIX

REACHING the rodeo site was like entering a village. There was the arena where the events took place, the area where the horses were delivered and kept until ready, and the shopping mall where Delia and dozens of others set out their stalls.

Leo had driven to the arena with Selena and together they delivered Jeepers to his stall. When he was settled they headed for Delia’s stall and Leo promptly embarked on another spending spree.

‘Who are they for?’ Selena asked as he paid for a pair of extremely glamorous and impractical spurs.

‘My cousin Marco.’ Leo grinned. ‘Never sat on a horse in his life. They’ll really annoy him.’

‘You’re wicked in your own way, y’know that?’

‘Proud of it. Now this-’ he held up a figure of a cowboy on horseback made of painted stone. It was exquisite, full of life. ‘This is for my brother Guido,’ he said. ‘He sells souvenirs in Venice. This’ll show him how it’s done.’

‘What kind of souvenirs?’

‘Venetian masks mostly. And gondola lamps. They go on top of television sets. Some of them play “O sole mio” when you switch them on.’

‘You’re kidding me!’

‘Nope.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t be hard on a man trying to earn a living.’

‘He-certainly-does very well out of souvenirs,’ Leo said cautiously. ‘Perhaps it’s time we were going. They’ll be starting soon.’

Leo had arranged to do his bull riding on the first day, in order to ‘get the disaster over fast,’ Selena had cheekily observed.

As he’d expected, there was a great deal of difference between Old Jim and the huge, furious animal he encountered now. Nothing in the previous few days with the machine had prepared him for it. It felt as though the bull had personally decided to smash him to fragments as a punishment for his impertinence in even trying.

And he must try to endure this for eight seconds, he thought fuzzily as his brain was bounced around in his skull.

But it was a considerate bull.

It had him off him in three.

He landed hard but he survived. By that time he was getting good at falling off, having had so much practise.

As he limped out of the ring he heard the kindly applause of the crowd, a tribute to his guts at doing something he was so hopelessly bad at, and saw the Hanworths clapping for him with the warmth of friends. All except Paulie whose sneer of pleasure was unmistakable.

But Selena wasn’t sneering. Her eyes were bright with pleasure that he’d made the attempt, and her smile was a promise and a reminder. Leo grinned back at her, happy and content. Paulie could go stuff himself up a drainpipe!

Behind her smile Selena felt wrung out. When Leo had gone flying over the bull’s head she’d ground her nails into her palm until he picked himself up. He hadn’t broken his neck. He was alive. The world could start again.

She chided herself for making a fuss about nothing. How many men had she seen thrown? But none of them had been Leo.

She slipped away to get ready. Jeepers was there, calmly waiting for her. They’d done well together in the practise ring, but this was different. This was opening night. She adjusted her stetson, making sure it was firmly fixed on. Losing a hat could cost valuable points. Not as many as knocking over a barrel, but enough to do damage.

There were five riders going before her, and they all did well.

‘All right,’ she told Jeepers. ‘The trick is not to let them scare you. You’re-we’re as good as they are. C’mon boy! Let’s show ’em.’

As the bell rang she went flying over the starting line heading for the first barrel inside the triangle, a sharp turn, but not too sharp, allowing Jeepers space to move. They were around, then on to the next, neat turn, on to the last, then over the finishing line to cheers as the clock showed her in the lead.

Leo was waiting for her just out of the ring and together they watched the next rider.

‘She’s not a patch on you,’ he said loyally. ‘None of them are.’

‘The next one’s good though. Jan Dennem. I’ve raced against her a lot and she’s always been just ahead of me.’

‘This time you’ll beat her,’ he said confidently.

They held their breaths while fourteen interminable seconds ticked away and Jan swept across the line one- tenth of a second outside Selena’s time.

‘Yeeee-eeess!’ they roared from the sanctuary of each other’s arms.

Next competitor. Very fast. A real threat. Ahead of Selena by half a second as she approached the final barrel, but then-

A roar went up from the crowd as the barrel was knocked over.

The next two were slower. No question. Selena was still ahead.

‘One more,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear it. Leo?’

When he didn’t answer she looked and found him standing with the fingers of both hands crossed, his eyes closed, his lips moving.

‘Just praying,’ he said when he’d opened his eyes. ‘You never know.’

She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Does God follow the rodeo?’

‘Never misses.’

There was a cheer as the last competitor came flying out into the ring.

‘I can’t look,’ Selena said, and buried her face against Leo’s chest. At once he put his arms about her. ‘What’s happening?’

‘First barrel, she’s fast but you’re all right, second barrel-now the third-’

The crowd’s cheers became deafening. Leo groaned as he tightened his arms and rested his head on hers.

‘Oh, no!’ she cried. ‘No, no, no!’

‘By a tenth of a second,’ Leo said. ‘I’m sorry carissima.’

She raised her head. ‘What did you call me?’

‘Carissima. It’s Italian.’

‘Yes, but what does it mean?’

‘Well-’

But while he wondered whether to risk telling her that the word meant ‘Darling’ they heard a bellow from Barton, congratulating and commiserating with her both together.

The moment passed, and Leo was left reflecting that he who hesitated was lost. Or if not actually lost, then forced to wait for another chance.

It was a cheerful party that drove home that night. Delia had done excellent business, Selena had picked up some prize money for coming second, and Leo had stayed on the bull for a whole three seconds. That was cause for rejoicing, so they did, far into the night.

Despite her defeat Selena was happy. The money for second had been better than usual. Leo found her sitting on the porch, contemplating it blissfully.

‘I’m rich, I’m rich!’

‘A hundred dollars is rich?’ he asked quizzically.

‘It’s a king’s ransom. Well, OK, maybe a very minor king. Who wants to ransom a king anyway? Do away with the lot!’

She was drunk with her little bit of success, laughing as she talked, going wildly, joyfully over the top.

‘So much for royalty,’ Leo observed. ‘Obviously you don’t believe in them.’

‘Who needs ’em? Or guys with handles.’

‘You mean titles?’ he asked, sensing the conversation taking a dangerous turn. ‘Down with the wicked aristocrats? Ouch!’ He rubbed his shoulder.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked quickly. ‘You got a neck pain, shoulder pain?’