you go hunt down your cowboy.”
“He’s not—” I shook my head, realizing that my parents were watching as well. “I’ll be right back.”
“Will you get me a water?” my mom asked.
“And some kettle corn,” Dax added.
“Oh, and a funnel cake?” Mom said.
I sighed. “Sure, fine, great. Be right back.”
It took me ten minutes to get out of the stands and down to the vendors’ tents that lined the gravel road along the side of the arena. The wait lines were ridiculous but at least I had some time to myself.
Trying to scale back to our seats carrying two water bottles, a bag of kettle corn, and a plate with funnel cake wasn’t easy. It was a joint effort; half of the people sitting in the stands between me and my destination helped me get there.
“Next time, you’re up,” I said to Dax as I shoved the massive bag of kettle corn at him.
He laughed. “Where’s your lemonade?”
“Bite me,” I mumbled.
The old man laughed.
“Allie,” my mother reprimanded, laughing. “Thanks for the goodies, honey.”
I nodded, handing her the funnel cake and water bottle.
“You just missed twenty-five or so kids running around trying to pull a red ribbon off a calf’s tail,” Dax said before shoving a handful of kettle corn into his mouth.
“Why would they do that?”
“Twenty bucks,” the old man said, taking some of the kettle corn Dax offered.
“This is Bubba,” Dax said. “He knows Dad.”
“When he was your age,” Bubba said.
I risked a quick glance at my father.
“You haven’t changed,” Dad said to Bubba.
“You sure as hell have,” Bubba replied, laughing.
I stared, but Mom and Dad were laughing too. “O…kay…” I said, sitting down and opening my water bottle.
Dax frowned. “I thought that was for me.”
“I couldn’t carry an open cup and all this crap. So, no, the water is mine.” I held the bottle away from him. “Go ahead, pout, I’m not sharing.”
Dax shook his head. “Fine.”
“Wyatt’s up next,” Mom said, leaning close to me.
“What?” I asked. “They started steer wrestling?” My heart slammed into my ribcage. “You could have told me,” I snapped at Dax.
“Why?” He gave me a look. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
I heard Bubba snort, and shot the old man a glare too.
“Wyatt Holcomb’s up again,” the announcer said. “This Black Falls, Texas boy has been attracting some attention in both steer wrestling and team roping.”
“When does he sleep? ” my mom asked.
I shook my head. “Isn’t he too young for this?” I asked, wanting to stop this before it started.
“He’s eighteen,” Dax explained. Wonderful .
“Need any lessons on this, sugar?” Bubba asked.
I felt sick when the steer was locked into the shoot.
“His horns have been tipped,” Bubba said. They were still long enough to put big nasty holes in a body.
“He has to get the steer to the ground?” Dax asked.
“Yep,” Bubba said. “Clear run will have the steer on his side or back, all four feet in the air.”
How a cow could suddenly look like a man-eating monster, I’m not sure—but it did. Gone was the docile, sloe-eyed animal I saw in basically every field in Black Falls. In its place stood an animal capable of seriously injuring Wyatt. My chest felt very heavy. My stomach twisted and churned.
“Allie? You okay?” my mother asked.
The chute opened and the steer shot out. Its two-foot horns looked anything but safe. And then Wyatt was flying out of the shoot, leaning far to the right on his horse. I pressed my hands between my knees again, panic rising up. Wyatt was off the horse, one arm draped around the neck of the steer while his hands gripped the animal’s horns. One firm twist and they came to a stop, the steer on his side. Wyatt was up before the steer was.
“He made that look easy,” Bubba said.
The moment Wyatt looked at me, I looked away. I had to. I had to stare at my hands, my lap, the water bottle I’d all but
“He’s not—” I shook my head, realizing that my parents were watching as well. “I’ll be right back.”
“Will you get me a water?” my mom asked.
“And some kettle corn,” Dax added.
“Oh, and a funnel cake?” Mom said.
I sighed. “Sure, fine, great. Be right back.”
It took me ten minutes to get out of the stands and down to the vendors’ tents that lined the gravel road along the side of the arena. The wait lines were ridiculous but at least I had some time to myself.
Trying to scale back to our seats carrying two water bottles, a bag of kettle corn, and a plate with funnel cake wasn’t easy. It was a joint effort; half of the people sitting in the stands between me and my destination helped me get there.
“Next time, you’re up,” I said to Dax as I shoved the massive bag of kettle corn at him.
He laughed. “Where’s your lemonade?”
“Bite me,” I mumbled.
The old man laughed.
“Allie,” my mother reprimanded, laughing. “Thanks for the goodies, honey.”
I nodded, handing her the funnel cake and water bottle.
“You just missed twenty-five or so kids running around trying to pull a red ribbon off a calf’s tail,” Dax said before shoving a handful of kettle corn into his mouth.
“Why would they do that?”
“Twenty bucks,” the old man said, taking some of the kettle corn Dax offered.
“This is Bubba,” Dax said. “He knows Dad.”
“When he was your age,” Bubba said.
I risked a quick glance at my father.
“You haven’t changed,” Dad said to Bubba.
“You sure as hell have,” Bubba replied, laughing.
I stared, but Mom and Dad were laughing too. “O…kay…” I said, sitting down and opening my water bottle.
Dax frowned. “I thought that was for me.”
“I couldn’t carry an open cup and all this crap. So, no, the water is mine.” I held the bottle away from him. “Go ahead, pout, I’m not sharing.”
Dax shook his head. “Fine.”
“Wyatt’s up next,” Mom said, leaning close to me.
“What?” I asked. “They started steer wrestling?” My heart slammed into my ribcage. “You could have told me,” I snapped at Dax.
“Why?” He gave me a look. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
I heard Bubba snort, and shot the old man a glare too.
“Wyatt Holcomb’s up again,” the announcer said. “This Black Falls, Texas boy has been attracting some attention in both steer wrestling and team roping.”
“When does he sleep? ” my mom asked.
I shook my head. “Isn’t he too young for this?” I asked, wanting to stop this before it started.
“He’s eighteen,” Dax explained. Wonderful .
“Need any lessons on this, sugar?” Bubba asked.
I felt sick when the steer was locked into the shoot.
“His horns have been tipped,” Bubba said. They were still long enough to put big nasty holes in a body.
“He has to get the steer to the ground?” Dax asked.
“Yep,” Bubba said. “Clear run will have the steer on his side or back, all four feet in the air.”
How a cow could suddenly look like a man-eating monster, I’m not sure—but it did. Gone was the docile, sloe-eyed animal I saw in basically every field in Black Falls. In its place stood an animal capable of seriously injuring Wyatt. My chest felt very heavy. My stomach twisted and churned.
“Allie? You okay?” my mother asked.
The chute opened and the steer shot out. Its two-foot horns looked anything but safe. And then Wyatt was flying out of the shoot, leaning far to the right on his horse. I pressed my hands between my knees again, panic rising up. Wyatt was off the horse, one arm draped around the neck of the steer while his hands gripped the animal’s horns. One firm twist and they came to a stop, the steer on his side. Wyatt was up before the steer was.
“He made that look easy,” Bubba said.
The moment Wyatt looked at me, I looked away. I had to. I had to stare at my hands, my lap, the water bottle I’d all but
Similar Books
