Page 56 of Second Chance Saloon

Ali cleared her throat, awkwardly grabbing the pitchfork again. “Now, enough with all this sentimental bullshit. Let’s keep goin’. Kit and Dustin will be bringin’ the horses back in for the night.”

A mild breeze cooled the sheen of sweat covering his cheeks. He straightened his hat, pushing his hands in his pockets.

Mid-afternoon had snuck up on the ranch while he was busy with Ali in the barn. When he shot her a triumphant grin after the last stall was all tidied up, she snorted and told him to empty the wheelbarrow and move on to the next barn. Mitch’s smile had crashed to the ground. Ali waited a beat before she roared with laughter, saying she got him. Apparently, local ranch hands took care of that. He hadn’t realized there were more people working here.

Mitch didn’t look back at Ali as he walked out of the barn, but he hoped that maybe he’d gained one ally at the ranch.

Now, he was watching Jackie’s training. He hadn’t had a chance yet to see her compete at a rodeo—the dates clashed with his swimming schedule—but this, seeing her guide Ricochet through the cloverleaf pattern of barrels, was something else. She was hypnotic. Her finesse, her speed …

He leaned in, resting his elbows over the wooden fence.

Just her.

Jackie must’ve spotted him as she raised her gaze to meet his, shooting him a blinding smile. She loosened her grip on the reins.

Ricochet neighed, and one of the barrels tipped over.

Jackie grimaced, regaining control of the reins. “I’m sorry!” she shouted to Colt, who let out an annoyed growl from inside the paddock.

Colt waved his phone, a timer ticking away on the screen. “Focus, Jacks. That’d be a five-second penalty.” He glared at Mitch. “You’re distracting her. Go see if you’re not needed elsewhere.”

Mitch swallowed and gave a wooden nod. He wasn’t Colt’s biggest fan, but he didn’t want to pull Jackie’s focus away either.

“Colt, stop being a dick,” Jackie shot back, leading Ricochet to what Mitch assumed was the starting position. “I’ve been at this for ages, I’m all stiff and cranky. Mimi never makes me practice for this long.”

Colt stomped up to her, putting his palm against Ricochet’s neck. “Brenda ain’t here now and you’ve asked for my help. You know yourself that the indoor winter rodeos are tough. Don’t you want to pass the qualifier in Stephenville?”

Mitch tilted his head, straining his ears to hear Jackie’s response.

“You know I do,” she said in a low voice. “But I’m tired. Ricochet’s tired. Being in a saddle all day won’t make up for the fact I don’t practice during the week.”

Colt stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “That it won’t.”

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound reaching Mitch coming from Ricochet’s hooves moving back and forth in the dirt.

He didn’t want to walk away but he also didn’t want to interrupt them. Barrel racing was important to Jackie. She’d shared her frustrations with how out of shape she’d been feeling lately, how she didn’t think she’d make the cut for any of the winter indoor qualifiers. Every time she brought it up, Mitch heard the unspoken doubt in her voice: should I quit?

Maybe he was projecting something that had been slowly forming in his own mind. How much longer would he be able to pull off swimming? Would he be able to keep up with the strict training schedule in later years, as the classes got more difficult? How about vet school? He supposed if he wanted to stay at UT, he needed to keep swimming, and do well, to keep his scholarship. His father had made his feelings about paying for it very clear.

So, Mitch guessed he was stuck, at least until he graduated.

He’d find another way to fund the vet school.

Colt’s sigh pulled Mitch from his musings. “Fine. We’re done for today. Same time tomorrow?”

Jackie smiled at him. “Thanks, Colt.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “What was my average time today?”

Colt didn’t bother looking at his phone to check the latest time. “17.54 seconds.”

Jackie swore so loudly, she spooked Ricochet. She leaned over and whispered something into the horse’s ear that Mitch couldn’t make out.

Colt’s expression softened. “You can do it, Jacks. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry? That’s like grandmas’ league time. I bet Mimi could beat that.” She took her foot from the stirrup and swung it over Ricochet, jumping down. Dust rose up as her boots hit the ground. She wiped her hands onto her trousers. “I shouldn’t even bother.”

“Get some rest, sleep on it. We can talk tomorrow,” Colt said. “Do you want me to take Ricochet back?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.” She sniffed. “Thanks, Colt, I appreciate you. I mean it.”