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“This isn’t what we decided last night, though,” he said. “I haven’t had time to vet any of these bulls.”
“Vet?”
“Not like Reba. I mean I haven’t had time to look them over. We were going to take it slow.”
“That was before I knew they had slated Muriel for this exhibition ride,” LeAnn said.
“True. They did mention you had been considered.” He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t like it, though.”
His words threw her again. “Who mentioned me? Shelby Miller?”
“No, I was with the Jackson Blevins, the CEO of the MPRC last night.”
All the alphabet soup of letters was making her head spin. “He wanted me to ride?” LeAnn perked up at the thought.
“Yeah, so I suppose he talked to Shelby about it.”
“What were you doing talking with the head honcho about me last night?” she asked.
“We were talking about bulls and your name came up. Hickory Livestock offered me a job selecting which of their bulls to send to the WPRC this season.”
That was perfect. “Can you find me a bull to ride?”
“Yeah.” Dylan nodded. “Mr. Hickory has some here. I haven’t had much time to look at them yet, but we’ll find you a good one.”
“That’s good,” she said, wringing her hands. Looking around, she hoped that she’d be able to get away with this. She didn’t want to be left out when the announcement was made. She wanted to be part of history, and this was her shot at it.
Dylan went up to one of the cowboys and said, “I need another bull like the one they gave Muriel ready to go in the chute right after her ride.”
The cowboy looked up with interest. “Oh really? Why?”
LeAnn gave him a big smile. “Because I’ll be riding after Muriel.”
The cowboy squinted at Dylan. “Are you sure about this?”
“Not my call. This is coming from the higher-ups.”
A flash of guilt nearly had LeAnn changing her mind. She didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. Not Dolly, not this cowboy, and certainly not Dylan. “I’ll take full responsibility.” And she would too. She’d come clean and tell anyone who wanted to reprimand them that she had bamboozled them.
The cowboy still didn’t look convinced, but LeAnn was desperate. She had come too far to let this slip through her fingers now. “While the crowd is still reacting to Muriel being the first woman bull rider in this rodeo series—” that had been harder to get out than LeAnn would have thought “—they want to give her someone to be compared to. And that’s me.”
“Are you sure?” the cowboy said. “Muriel doesn’t have any other events today. And I know that you’re barrel racing later.”
Oh yeah, she had briefly forgotten about that. “I’m sure,” LeAnn said, even though she wasn’t. Great. Now, she was second-guessing herself about what she had just set in motion.
You know who does shit like this? Who lies to get his own way? Who uses people? That voice in her head asked viciously. LeAnn heard Mick’s laugh, like a demented hyena.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered.
But no one heard her. And she didn’t have the courage to say it again. This was how things got done in the rodeo. Nice girls finished last. Merry Grayson taught her that. You had to stand out if you wanted the big sponsors. And nobody stood out by meekly following the rules. If you wanted to succeed in a man’s world, you had to be ruthless. LeAnn rubbed her stomach, which churned with acid. The end justified the means, didn’t it?
“Okay,” the cowboy said. “Do you have a preference?” He directed the question to Dylan.
“Which one is Muriel riding?”
“She’s riding Pecos Bull. He’s got potential. In a few years, you might be facing him down.”
“Is he your best bull?” LeAnn asked.
