AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You can take it up with city council, Windley. The law’s the law, and I’m its servant.”
“You’re a stooge is what you are. Charlie Williams’s stooge. That’s who set it up, isn’t it?” He pulled his horse around. “It’s a lie, all of it. They’re trying to get him into office, and it has nothin’ to do with the good of our town.” This time, the finger pointed at me. “A kid who was too good for Lindenbach wants to ride in here and take over because suddenly it suits him? Fuckin’ politicians.”
The crowd murmured, and a couple of guys trotted out to talk him off the ledge. After a string of unintelligible arguments out of Doug, he conceded, riding out of the arena full tilt.
And then it was my turn.
Shaken from his very public dig—a dig I couldn’t respond to—I mounted up and got myself ready. Evangeline approached, petting the horse as she spoke.
“Show them you’re serious with your ride. That’ll prove him wrong more than anything you could say.”
I hmphed a laugh. “Sure thing, boss.”
She winked and stepped back as Mike finished his introduction, and I shook off the rest, settling into the space of quiet that I’d found rodeoing as a kid. I didn’t even have to think about it, just clicked right in. Felt the horse breathing beneath me, the lasso in my hand, the scratch of the piggin rope when I placed the coil in my mouth. The noise around me dimmed until I could hear my horse chuffing and the calves bleating.
The chute opened. I took off, measuring the rhythm of the horse, of the lasso, of the darting calf. I knew it was good the second it left my hand, sailing to land around the calf’s neck. I pulled as hard as I could, stopping my horse with the same motion. When my boots hit the dirt, I ran to the calf, took it down to pin it, tied its legs in less time than it took my heart to beat twice. I hopped back, hands up, looking to the grandstand for confirmation, which I received in a chorus of whooping and applause.
Inside, I was whooping too, but I played it cool, raising a solitary hand to the crowd as I made my way to the calf to let it loose. On standing, my gaze met Poppy’s from the perch on her horse. Only slivers of her eyes were visible, sharp beneath the shadow of her hat brim. I smirked and tipped my hat, mounting my horse and waving to the crowd again. A fresh wave of noise followed, fueling the momentum of my exit.
“Good luck, Blum,” I said when I passed her.
“Fuck you, Daniels.”
I laughed, glad she was mad. Better chance she’d lose and spare us the inconvenience of this election.
When I’d dismounted and handed off my horse, Evangeline was waiting with a smile on her face and her arms folded.
“Nice riding, Tex.”
“Thank ya, ma’am.” I touched the rim of my hat.
“Poppy’s pissed,” she noted as we headed back to our spot to watch.
“Not as pissed as Doug.”
“Well, give her time.”
I watched Poppy, her horse stamping, a conduit for her nerves. She was rattled, that was plain to see. With a steady hand, Wyatt stilled the horse, and whatever he said to Poppy relaxed her shoulders. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. A nod, and she pulled up to the gate.
The arena held its breath waiting for the calf’s chute to open. And when it did, Poppy was off like a shot, leaning forward in the saddle, her eyes locked on the darting calf. She let the lasso fly, missing by just a hair when the animal cut to the left with no warning.
Without faltering, she pulled her horse around and headed back for her second go. She was wound as tight as a bowstring, but I knew the look of determination on her face. Jaw clenched, mouth nothing but a dash, eyes cold steel.
When the gates opened again, she was hot on the calf’s heels. Her hand and arm were in perfect harmony with the lasso, and when she threw it, it fell neatly around the calf’s neck and cinched closed. She was off her horse and running, taking it down easily. My heart banged as she fumbled with its legs, my breath locked as she wound her piggin string around twice and knotted it.
She jumped up, throwing her fists in the air and screaming, her eyes wild and relieved and not on the calf.
The calf who’d wriggled out of Poppy’s sloppy hooey, which had come undone.
It was on its feet and charging her before anybody could move. Head down, it slammed into her side hard enough that her feet came off the ground. She hit the dirt flat on her back with a thud and a puff of copper dirt, her hat three feet away and her chest still.
