“Twister bucked three yesterday.”
My face flames with heat. I was just thinking how smart I’ve gotten where a ranch and animals are concerned, and now I don’t even know the biggest threat against my husband.
Love, reading my fears, scoots closer as the girls share aHighlights for Childrenmagazine, Sadie abandoning my hand to join her friends in finding the notebook amidst the jungle scene. “Twister likes to buck. He’s angry and mean, always has been, probably always will be. He’s the number one bronco to buck off a rider. But Landry’s already had him, and conquered him.”
My stomach sinks, and the edges of my vision blur. Iknow Landry can defeat this animal, I know he can. Still, I’m nervous about what’s possible. I wanted it to be easy, as silly as it sounds. This man deserves it, if anyone does.
Love sees my fears and grips my leg, smiling. “Hey, you know he’s gonna win, he’ll just have a thrill on Twister first.”
I can’t bring myself to speak, because my throat is tight and my eyes are warm.
“He’s gonna be good out there. He and Tate have been training like crazy. Tate trained him for this, okay? I promise. I’m not just saying that.”
I nod my head, some of my fear gently washed away by her words.
Adjusting my tripod, I make sure the entire arena is onscreen.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I grip the cold metal rail of the grandstand, eyes locked on the chute where Landry sits astride the bareback rigging, his gloved hand wrapped tight in the handle. The announcer’s voice booms across the arena.
“Ladies and gentlemen, kiddos of Sable Sky, hold on to your hats, next in the chute is our town favorite, five-time rodeo winner hailing from your very own Sable Sky, riding the bad boy, Twister, wearing number one-forty-three, it’s Landry Vaughn!”
Everyone gets to their feet. The world around me is all cheering and clapping, and my eyes are set on the cowboy on the perlino-coated animal, bounding at the gate. The crowd roars, but all I can hear is the thundering of my own pulse. The gate cracks open and Twister explodes out like a storm, muscles and fury on display as a warning as his hind legs kick so high his hooves disappear into the skyline.
Landry’s back arches with Twister’s first savage buck, his spurs raking in perfect rhythm. I can already see the strain inhis shoulders, and see the way his free arm is fighting for balance. The thing about making this film is that I’ve watched Landry Vaughn train for months and I now know what a hard ride looks like.
Like this.
Eight seconds should be quick, but right now it feels like forever. I whisper his name under my breath like a prayer and reach for Sadie’s hand.
Twister spins hard to the left, then whips back right in a blur of dust and flying mane, the kind of move that usually ends a ride entirely.
Landry slips sideways, his body tilting dangerously, neck wrenching, boot heel losing its hold on Twister’s flank. For one sickening heartbeat, I see his chin drop toward Twister’s shoulder, the rigging pulled taut like it may snap, and my stomach lurches into sickness and unease. I squeeze Sadie’s hand and bite my lip so hard that I taste blood, but ignore it, willing him to stay on Twister, to keep that free hand high and his spine loose.
Twister sunfishes again, all four hooves off the ground at once, and Landry’s hat goes flying, spinning away into the chaos. He’s hanging on by sheer grit now, his teeth clenched, every muscle in his arm corded against the pull of gravity and eleven hundred pounds of unflinching rage.
The buzzer finally screams across the arena as Landry wrenches himself upright, just as the pickup men close in on him. Bailed off clean, Landry’s boots hit the dirt in a stumble as Twister kicks one last time, giving everyone a run. The crowd erupts around me, but I’m already halfway down the steps, tears blurring the scoreboard as it flashes SEVENTY-SEVEN.
My husband stands in the arena, chest heaving, dust streaked across his grin as he looks around.
“Landry!” I cup one hand to my mouth, my voice shaking and frantic, my other hand still in Sadie’s. He turns, and his entire body softens at the sight of us. Limping toward us, he hugs Sadie and she praises him, sifting her little fingers through the back of his hair, kissing his cheek. She climbs up the chute gate and starts chatting with the other kids as Landry’s eyes come to mine.
Glistening with sweat, chest still huffing hard, he wraps his arms around me and sinks his lips into my hairline. “I’m okay, honey. Don’t you get upset.”
I nod against his chest. “That was scary.”
He stacks his chin on my head. “Nah. That was Twister.”
I pull back, and blink up at the scoreboard where Landry is now seated second in place for the finals. He reads my worry. “I’m gonna win, don’t you worry.”
I swipe my foolish tears. “I know you will.” Still, something nags at my insides, tugs at my gut, and leaves me feeling so unsure and uneasy. I slide my hand over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, and give a soft squeeze. “How are you feeling?”
Landry grimaces. “Probably no dancing and drinking tonight. I pulled a muscle in my neck and I think it’s best if we go home.”
I nod my head. “I’ll just grab some bags of ice and meet you at the truck?”
He smiles and hooks a thumb in Sadie’s shirt, playfully tugging her off the rail. “Go on and help Miss Quinn get some bags of ice.”
She nods, then stops to barter because she is six years old, after all. “If I help with the ice, can I have a Popsicle at home?”
