Rodeo Sweetheart

Sam opened her mouth, probably to question his statement, but was interrupted by Vickie’s yelp. Ethan turned to see his mother hanging half off Piper’s saddle, one foot stretched toward the ground, the other stuck in the stirrup. Her dangling leg was at least a foot from the ground. “Help! He won’t let me off!”

Her panicked cry flattened Piper’s ears and the horse snorted in distress. Sam rushed to Vickie’s side seconds ahead of Ethan, and grabbed Piper’s reins. “Easy, boy.” Her low tone perked Piper’s ears, and he stopped the anxious shuffling of his legs.

Ethan helped support his mom’s weight while Sam worked Vickie’s boot free of the stirrup. Once her feet were on solid ground, she released a relieved sigh. “He started moving while I was getting down. I tried to get back on, but couldn’t get enough momentum. He’s so big!”

Sam’s mouth twitched. Even Ethan could see Piper was several inches shorter than most of the other horses in the group. He patted his mother’s arm. “You’re safe now, don’t worry.”

“Do you want me to call the ranch to have someone pick you up?” Sam held Piper’s reins, and the horse blew on her shoulder. She didn’t even flinch as his flabby lips worked against her hair. How did she know those giant horse teeth wouldn’t sink into her neck?

Vickie brushed the front of her stiff jeans. “I’ll be fine. Walking around a little will help.”

“It’s good to keep moving,” Sam agreed. “There are water bottles and packages of crackers in my saddle bag. Please help yourself.”

Vickie thanked her and headed in that direction, while Sam briefly closed her eyes and exhaled.

Ethan quirked an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“I warned her not to make any sudden or loud noises.” Sam patted Piper’s hairy cheek. “He’s skittish about that. She really could have gotten hurt.”

Ethan remembered all the times growing up where his mother’s voice had startled him, as well, and he reached out to rub Piper’s ear. “Hey, I can relate.” He smiled at Sam.

The edges of her mouth started to curl in response, but just as suddenly, she gathered Piper’s reins. “Let’s get you grazing with the other horses.” She clucked twice to the paint before leading him away—without a second glance at Ethan.

Sam’s heart raced, and it wasn’t from the near incident with Mrs. Ames and Piper. No, it had everything to do with that brown-eyed stranger and his deadly smile. She pressed a hand against her stomach and drew a tight breath. So what if Ethan was handsome? She’d been around attractive men before, and most of them turned out to be completely full of themselves. If she had time for romance—which she didn’t—she needed a man who spent more time outdoors than looking in a mirror. Attractive or not, Ethan Ames was still a rich guy bent on teasing her. He might have had a humane moment there, relating to Piper, but she couldn’t forget the incessant teasing he’d doled out to her earlier that morning while saddling up.

Sam tugged on Piper’s reins, urging the paint to follow. There was the point, however, that Ethan could have gotten angry with Sam for venting about his mother, and didn’t. That showed something decent lurked in the heart underneath that polo shirt of his. Regardless, she’d have to watch her mouth around the tourists from now on. Her unedited remarks could easily come back to bite her—and the ranch’s business.

Piper snorted as Sam released him next to the other horses in the field. His black patches gleamed in the noon sun, reminding Sam of Noble Star’s midnight-blue coat. She’d better quit wasting time thinking about Ethan and focus on finding a way to earn money to purchase the stallion. She needed a plan, and fast—before someone else realized the stallion’s worth and beat Sam to it. He could very well be the ticket for getting them out of their financial crisis.

The wind lifted Sam’s hair and cooled her neck. She soaked in the breeze, tilting her face to the sun, and then turned back to the group of riders just in time to see Ethan look quickly away from her.

Sam started back toward the tourists, purposefully heading away from Ethan. If she wasn’t careful, he could very well be the ticket for messing up her plans—and her heart.

Chapter Four

The alarm clock on the nightstand glowed three o’clock in bright green digital numbers. Sam sat up in bed, wide-awake. She should have been out the moment her weary shoulders hit the mattress, but her mind kept racing with the events of the day. The trail ride. Ethan. Mrs. Ames scaring the horses. Chores, both inside the house and out. Ethan. Answering the tourists’ endless questions about ranch life. Helping Cole finish mucking out stalls. Ethan.

His creeping into her thoughts was even more annoying than the fact that she couldn’t sleep.

Sam clicked on the lamp, and then slowly slid to the floor. Sitting cross legged, she reached under the bed. The navy dust ruffle was, ironically, covered in dust, and she sneezed. Who had time to vacuum under the beds when there was so much else to do? Wishing for a housekeeper was ridiculous when they were having trouble even paying their mortgage, but Sam couldn’t help but wish anyway. Her searching fingers found the edge of the cardboard box and she tugged it free.

Shiny gold medals stared back at her as she peered over the rim. This was foolish, going through her father’s box of rodeo awards in the middle of the night. She hadn’t pulled the box out in months, not since Angie finally took them down from their display in the den. Her mother had put the box in the storage shed, but Sam had snuck back outside and grabbed it hours later. She could understand her mother needing to pack it away, needing closure, but the contents of the box represented her dad. Painful as it was to sift through the mementos, Sam at least wanted the option of doing so.

She ran her fingers over an engraved belt buckle. BULL RIDING CHAMPION, 1990. Another medal. SECOND PLACE TEAM ROPING, 1985. Several ribbons nestled inside the box, along with her dad’s bull-riding gloves and his favorite black cowboy hat. A local newspaper article about his tragic death lay on the very bottom, and Sam quickly covered it up with the hat. It was too late at night for that level of emotion.

She picked up the flyer advertising the annual Appleback Rodeo, dated over two years ago, and smiled. Bittersweet memories. Every year, the town of Appleback hosted a two-week series of events, starting with the Appleback Street fair, ending with the infamous rodeo, and offering a string of cooking and eating contests, concerts and everything else one could imagine in between.

Sam absently traced the lariat border design on the flyer. Once upon a time, she had dreamed dreams similar to her father’s. As a child she loved riding, roping and all things adventurous. One of her favorite childhood pictures was her and her dad on horseback, Sam wearing nothing but a diaper and a big baby grin. Wade Jenson taught Sam to ride not many years later, and she barrel-raced in local junior rodeos until she turned sixteen. Even after her dad quit the rodeo circuit, his tips and tricks still seemed to subconsciously leak out of his sentences. Heels down, Sam. Don’t look at your rope, look at your target. You’ll never earn the title of Rodeo Sweetheart with that form. Let go of that saddle horn, girl, what are you afraid of? Sam eventually felt more comfortable around horses than people—a fact she proved by skipping her prom to tend to a new baby foal, and standing up more than one date in favor of helping her dad trailer horses to a new client.

When Wade passed away, the thrill seeker in Sam died along with him. She watched herself—and her life—slow down until it nearly stopped. Afternoons galloping bareback across meadows were suddenly spent soaping up saddles and hosing down horses. The chores had to get done, but she could have snuck away for some fun once in a while. Could have—but didn’t. Fun meant danger, and that first year after Wade’s death, Sam couldn’t even mount a horse without thinking of her dad. It seemed wrong to be the same person she always was when he wasn’t there to see it, wasn’t there to offer his advice and big congratulatory hugs.

Sudden tears stung her eyes and Sam’s grip tightened on the advertisement in her hands. The annual rodeo was coming up in August—only a few weeks away. A couple of years ago, she would have entered the barrel racing or roping competition as usual, and would have already been practicing for months.

The writing on the flyer blurred before her eyes, and Sam blinked rapidly to clear the moisture clouding her vision. Her life wasn’t about the rodeo anymore, couldn’t ever be again. Even if she wanted to compete, Angie would never allow it. At twenty-four, Sam was obviously long past grounded as a means of discipline, but putting disappointment or fear in her mother’s eyes was far worse than any childhood punishment. Things changed, and Sam had to change right along with them.

She started to put the flyer back in the box, but the bold numbers on the bottom stopped her hand midreach and Sam’s eyes widened. Things changed, all right. The grand prize a few years ago for the bull-riding competition was the exact amount she needed to buy Noble Star. Add two years’ increase, and it was more than enough to get the breeding farm in the black.

The paper rustled as she stuffed the flyer in the box and shoved the entire thing under the bed. Maybe obtaining Noble Star wouldn’t be a matter of luck after all, but rather, divine providence. Surely it wasn’t coincidence about the money being the amount she needed. Was God finally going to offer assistance to get the Jenson family out of their financial crisis?

It’d be about time He stepped in.

Sam slipped beneath the cotton sheets and lay staring at the ceiling, arms crossed behind her pillow. Her heart hammered, and this time it wasn’t from bad dreams, a busy day or thoughts of Ethan.

She had a plan.

The sun streamed through the miniblinds, scrawling patterns of light across the worn bedspread. Ethan grunted into his pillow but made no motion to move. He couldn’t if he tried. He needed an ice pack. Or maybe a hot compress. Anything to ease the soreness that glazed his muscles with a constant, annoying ache.

He closed his eyes, then blinked them open at a snicker. Daniel sat on his bed a few feet away, pulling on his ridiculous boots and grinning. “You should have played darts at the lodge by the main house with me yesterday instead of going on that ride, man. I warned you.”

Ethan pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing against the pain. He refused to look like a sissy in front of his cousin—but the grimace probably gave him away. “Yeah, right. You said be careful, riding a horse would make me sore. You didn’t say riding a horse would make me feel like I’d been trampled by one.”

Daniel shrugged as he stood. “I’m heading to the main house for breakfast. You coming, or do you prefer to limp around here instead?” His boots clomped on the wooden floor.

“I’ll be there. Go ahead without me.” Ethan slowly eased off the bed. “It’ll take me a minute.”

“Might be lunchtime before you make it.”

“Very funny.” Ethan winced. No wonder all the cowboys in those books he’d read as a child walked with such a wide stance. It was the only way to compensate. He swaggered toward the dresser and winced as he pulled out a pair of jeans.

Daniel tugged a cowboy hat down on his head and swiped his room key off the nightstand. “I’ll save you some bacon.”

“Why are you wearing all that stuff anyway?” Ethan gestured toward Daniel’s Western gear, and his biceps quivered. Probably from that death grip he had on the saddle horn yesterday, despite making fun of his mom for doing the same. If Vickie felt even half as sore as he did, she’d probably already changed her mind about “appearances.” He hated to agree with his dad on, well, anything—but this time, Jeffrey had a point about not all of them having to keep up the charade at every moment. Ethan would be more likely to see his dad hanging out the moon roof of a limo than he would ever see him aboard a horse.

Daniel tapped the brim of his hat. “Hey, I think I look good. Or at least, the girls I met at the lodge last night thought so.” He winked.

“So that’s why you stayed out so late.” Mystery solved. Ethan shook his head and pulled on a green polo.

“Nothing wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure.” Daniel paused at the front door. “Aren’t you doing the same? I know you took that trail ride to check out the owner’s daughter—Sarah, or whatever her name is.”

Ethan worked to keep his expression neutral. “It’s Sam—and hardly. I went riding so my mom wouldn’t be alone.”

Daniel’s eyebrow twitched. “Right.”

“Believe what you want. I have no interest in Sam.” Her full name hovered on Ethan’s lips and he couldn’t but smile at her ire if he were to say it. Somehow, he suspected she could sense it even from across the ranch.

“Of course not. You always grin real goofy when you’re not attracted to someone.” Daniel rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” Ethan grabbed a pair of socks. It wasn’t true—was it? Sure, Sam was pretty, and there was something different about her, something that went beyond the Western attire and massive chip on her shoulder. But Sam wasn’t his type. So what if he’d wanted to tease her a little on the ride? There were worse motivations to have—and his had nothing to do with attraction. He was an Ames. An Ames wouldn’t date a cowgirl.