Welcome to Harmony by Jodi Thomas

gone before she could ask what it was she was supposed to be worried about.
    The coat did feel good; it still had the warmth of him inside. Reagan pushed her hands through the arms and shoved up the sleeves. The patches on the jacket marked Noah as part of the rodeo team, and his giving it to her seemed to make her a part of the team. Almost.
    As the sun set, she leaned back against the bleachers and watched her first rodeo. There was a way of life here, a whole subculture she’d never imagined. She watched it all, fascinated. There was almost a dance about it, the way the horses stomped in the soft dirt, the flash of fringe on the chaps, the flow of riders and ropes.
    Noah rode saddle broncs first. He fell off almost before he was out of the chute. But the announcer yelled that they should all give “Preacher” a hand, and Reagan clapped as loud as she could as she watched him dust off his bottom and collect his hat from the dirt.
    When they switched to team roping, her heart slowed down a little. She’d never been interested in any sport, but this was different. This was one-on-one with the challenge, and the men were helping and rooting for one another. Again and again she saw them pick up another rider’s gear or jump off the gate to guard a downed cowboy from the wild spins of a bull. One man in baggy pants and a red shirt looked like a clown, but the announcer kept calling him the bullfighter. It didn’t take long before she realized he was there not to entertain the crowd, but to help out when needed.
    A body plopped down beside her on the bench, and Reagan knew it wasn’t Noah before she turned her head.
    “You here all by yourself?” a voice whispered so close she fought the urge to swat it away like a buzzing fly.
    “No.” Reagan turned to look at the overweight boy about her age who was sitting next to her. He wasn’t dressed western but wore baggy pants and a black T-shirt with holes in it.
    “I’m Brandon Biggs,” he said, as if she cared. “I looked around and I noticed only one girl I didn’t know. So this is your lucky night. I’m going to sit with you.”
    He seemed to notice the jacket she wore for the first time. “Who’s that belong to? It’s not yours, for sure. Way too big.”
    She didn’t want to talk to this guy. Reagan had met creeps like him in every place she’d lived. He thought he ran the world. “It belongs to Preacher McAllen and I really wish you’d leave.”
    Brandon laughed. “It’s a free country. I can sit here if I want to. Besides, I know who Preacher is. Saw him almost ride.”
    “Leave, or I’ll leave.”
    She stood and moved one step sideways before he caught her hand.
    “Don’t go away. Preacher and me are tight. He wouldn’t mind us hanging out.” Brandon wiggled his eyebrows. “Besides, pestering you is far more interesting than this dumb old rodeo.”
    “But I mind. I’d rather sit somewhere else because I am interested in the rodeo.” She didn’t want to attract attention. “Let go of my arm.”
    Brandon opened his mouth to say something, then looked past her and seemed to think better of it. He pulled his hand away and huffed. “Prickly little girl, aren’t you? I was just trying to be friendly.”
    When she tried to move around him, he shifted his leg so she’d have to brush it to get past him on the narrow space.
    Reagan brushed his leg hard with the heel of her shoe, a few inches below his shin.
    He smiled for a second before her heel dug in, sliding down his leg, scraping skin as if it were the top layer of tree bark.
    From the expression on his face it was obvious he was bleeding beneath his black jeans.
    Pulling away, he let her pass, then yelled for some kid walking by to wait up. He limped down the steps, shoving people aside as he moved.
    She expected to see Noah standing behind her, but when Reagan turned, no one was there. It was as if Brandon had been frightened by a ghost. No one was even looking at her.
    Then she saw them.