Page 1 of Storm Warning
PROLOGUE
RHETT -November 21, 1987
Six-years-old: The Day I Found My Dream
I watchthe heels of my mom’s boots dig into the earth in front of us, holding my dad’s hand as we glide past folks from town, as well as many people I’ve never seen before. The smell of manure fills the air, a scent that has become the norm growing up on a cattle ranch.
Everyone is dressed head to toe in their cowboy-best: sharp clean hats on most of their heads and jeans starched, just how Dad likes. Kids of all ages run around the outside of the arena and into the bleachers that surround it, laughter and joy spilling from nearly everyone we pass.
I glance toward today’s contestants, each of their faces cast with a looming determination. A look that Dad says comes with the territory of being the best, not from being scared, though I still can’t tell the difference.
We stop as we make it to the side of the arena, looking for a place to sit, when mom spots one of her friends in the stands. My little brother, Duke, peeks over Ma’s shoulder as we headMiss Mandry’s direction in a single-file line, inching our way up the stairs until we reach the bleacher she occupies and sit beside her.
Once we settle into our spot, I watch the rider approaching the bull chute. His dark wash jeans are covered by a set of worn in, chestnut leather chaps with fringe that sways as he walks.The number fifty-two is pinned to the back of his matching leather vest. Lifting up his large arm, he adjusts the black felt cowboy hat on his head while he passes a group of women who stand near the gate. A sly smile of confidence resides on his lips as he says something to a tall redhead. Her cheeks flush just the way Ma’s do when she gets mad at me. The only difference being the redhead’s comes paired with a smile and Ma’s usually come with added chores.
“And now, our toughest bull yet, Rough Resolve. The very one y’all came to see. His rider? None other than Roy Slayton. We are in for a treat today, folks,” The announcer yells into the microphone once he notices the cowboy’s arrival. The crowd erupts in praise, the entire room filled with an excitement I haven’t quite seen here before.
He climbs into the pen that holds his biggest enemy, the bull, gives a nod to its tender, and the gate creaks open. Silence covers the arena the second they make their way out onto their stage, almost as if we all hold our breath waiting for the final score. My heart pitter-patters in my chest, beating as hard as the bull’s hooves against the ground.
One. Two.
The seconds fly by and I find myself on pins and needles, watching the cowboy ride the beast like it’s easy.
Three. Four.
I count the seconds in my head, knowing the whole point is for him to stay put until he hears the buzzer, or at least as long as he can while he tries.
The bull moves back and forth around the dirt, defyinggravity with each buck. Balance and nearly impossible control—the rider’s only hope to score high enough to win today’s prize. Goosebumps cover my skin as I hold my breath, watching every move the cowboy makes. A mesmerizing dance I never even knew existed.
Five. six.
The cowboy’s hand remains in the air the entire time, never losing his composure or the ride he needs to complete. The twists and turns never shake him from his goal, nor his seat. I nearly fall from my own as I lean in to watch the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.
Seven. Eight.
The buzzer sounds and I close my eyes, blinking for what feels like the first time in forever. Praise roars all around me, even Dad screaming, “Go get ‘em, Slayton!”
Getting up from my spot, I run toward the gate like many other kids my age. We all zone in as the rider makes a quick escape from one of the most well known bulls of all time. I watch as he walks past us, a bold smile back on his mouth and his arm looped around the redhead’s waist. He stops in front of me, pulling the hat from his head and placing it on mine.
“There you go, buddy.” Everything about him screams confidence. From the smooth timbre of his voice to the sparkle in his hazel eyes.
I’m so excited, I don’t even know what to say. The best bull rider I’ve ever seen, myhero, just gave me his Stetson.
The hat atop my head droops to the side, but I do my best to straighten it as he releases a soft chuckle.
"You’ll grow into it, kid," he says, as if he believes it to be true. But this hat is something more. Almost like it has a magic all its own, and when I grow into it, I might one day be just as good as him. Shoot, maybe even better.
I stare up at him in awe, amazed at his ability to do it all. A day I’ll never forget and a dream I plan to make my reality.
I want to be just like him, and I’m going to be.
KAYLEE - December14, 1994
Twelve-years-old: The Day He Left Us
Please don’t go.Or, just get it over with.
The thoughts echo like shouts in my mind over and over as Dad shuffles through the drawers of his dresser while I’m helpless to watch. His expression appears unbothered, polar opposite to that of the sobs I hear from mom only rooms away. Funny she’s got any emotion at all, given she’s been disconnected for years.
