“Just the usual kind of stuff,” Drew dismissed. “But while I have you, how about a female perspective on sacred ritual practitioner as an alternative to undertaker?”

A snort came from Tucker. “It sounds like you’re starting a cult. Arlo’s just going to love that.”

“It does sound a little…dark arts-ish,” Della agreed.

“Hmm.” Drew rubbed his jaw. “Maybe you’re right.”

Just then, a guy sat on the stool beside Della and bade them all a polite hello. He wasn’t from anywhere around Credence, because Della would have remembered meeting someone so easy on the eyes who was about her age.

Sadly, he did nothing for her.

“Hi,” Tucker said, smiling at the newcomer. “What can I get you to drink?”

“A Bud, please.”

Tucker turned away to get the beer, and the guy faced Della. “You’re Della Munroe, right?” For a split second, Della froze. How did this guy know her name? But he pressed on, oblivious, offering his hand. “I’m Bo. Bo Forbes. I’m Rosemary’s grandson. She sent me over here to say hi.”

“Oh.” An instant flood of relief exaggerated her response, and Della glanced over her shoulder at Rosemary, who winked and tinkled a little wave. “Right.” She turned back to Bo and shook his hand. This was the daredevil grandson who prioritized his looks over his brain. “You ride bulls on the circuit?”

“That’s me.”

“Rosemary talks about you all the time.”

“She talks about you all the time, too.” He smiled at her. “I can see why.”

His beer was plonked down in front of him with a definite thunk. “Cheers,” Tucker said.

“I’ve always wanted to go to a rodeo,” Della said conversationally.

“You’ve never been? Seriously? You should definitely come and watch me sometime.” Bo grinned. “It’ll be the biggest thrill of your life. I promise.”

Della laughed at his exuberance. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she was more of a Tucker-having-her-panties-in-his-pocket kind of thrill seeker.

“You’re on the professional circuit?” Drew asked.

A half-hour conversation followed about the adventures and dangers of riding a big-ass bull for eight long seconds. Bo rattled off a list of his injuries, including the shoulder surgery he’d just had, which was why he was back home with the family in Kansas and here visiting his grandmother today. He talked about his goals, which included a comprehensive exit plan from riding by raising bulls for the circuit. His winnings had already bought him a ranch, and he’d started to stock it, so it should be turning a handsome profit in the not-too-distant future.

He also threw in a couple of stories about his grandmother and how she’d championed his move onto the circuit when his father had been more cautious. “I don’t think I’d have gone pro if it hadn’t been for Grams.”