Heart of Love Page 26

  This evening’s performance was the conclusion of a three-day rodeo. She’d ridden Thursday and claimed a spot in the final go-round. She planned to leave as the winner.

  It had taken her five years to make a comeback as a professional barrel racer and she had every intention of earning the world championship title in December. More than just bragging rights were on the line, and nothing would stop her from trying to win.

  A boom of thunder followed by a streak of lightening spooked Rocket, but Brylee kept a firm hand on the reins and continued loping him around the practice arena.

  “Are you two ready for this?” a raven-haired woman asked as she rode up beside Rocket.

  Brylee grinned at her friend. “As ready as I can be, Savannah. How about you and Rainbow? Are you gonna give me a run for my money?”

  Savannah laughed and patted the neck of her mare. “You know we’ll try, but you are the turn and burn queen.” The young woman glanced up at the sky as thunder cracked overhead followed by another bright bolt of lightning.

  Fat raindrops began to fall, slightly cooling the heavy air, but making it even more humid than it had been.

  “This isn’t going to be good,” Savannah said, turning with Brylee as they made their way toward a shelter near the stable.

  “No, it won’t be. That arena will be a sloppy mess before long.” Brylee frowned as she stared at the darkening sky. The rain was still falling gently. Maybe it would be a brief storm that quickly passed.

  Another boom of thunder sounded before a blinding flash of lightning looked like it might strike the flagpole outside the arena. It barely missed, but left her blinking her eyes in shock.

  “That’s entirely too close for comfort,” Savannah said, trying to keep Rainbow in line as the horse pranced and tossed her head. “Just calm down, girl. Everything is fine.”

  “Yes, it is,” Brylee echoed, rubbing Rocket’s neck. She needed to convince herself of it as much as she did the horse or Savannah. Since she wasn’t going to ride first in the event, she worried about the condition of the arena. All she could do was hope the crew raking dirt around the barrels did a good job between rides and the rainstorm held off until she and Rocket made their run.

  “Let’s give a hand to our winner in the steer wrestling, folks! That young man is going places!” The rodeo announcer’s resonant voice carried over the crowd and through the storm.

  “Come on. Let’s get lined up. They’ll move things along quickly with this rain,” Savannah said, tugging down her black hat inlayed with turquoise and detailed embroidery all around the brim.

  Brylee thought her friend could have had a lucrative career as a model. Savannah was tall, generously curved, and gorgeous with long black tresses, perfect skin, and eyes nearly as dark as her hair. The woman always looked amazing and today was no exception. Her turquoise sequined shirt glittered in the lights that had kicked on around the arena. Even her horse appeared flashy with a turquoise saddle pad and matching sports boots.

  While some barrel racers looked as though they competed in a beauty contest, Brylee had no time nor interest in such things. Not now. Not when so much rode on her success.

  She did keep Rocket groomed within an inch of his patience as he endured the ministrations. He always looked sharp when they raced. Primarily, she stuck with black as her color choice for her gear, from her saddle to his boots, and even the breast collar. All that black, accented with silver, looked fantastic against his gray-flecked coloring and black mane.

  Rather than worry about having the most stylish outfit, best hair, or flawless makeup, Brylee spent extra time working with Rocket and improving her riding skills. Oh, she made a little effort to not look like a clueless bumpkin. However, compared to some of the girls who were magazine cover-worthy, she might have felt plain and average, if she let it bother her. Most of the time it didn’t.

  What she lacked in cosmetic interests, Brylee made up for with her ability to ride.

  “I have to tell you, folks, you are in for a treat with the lovely ladies racing the barrels tonight. What a great group of talented women. And they are all purty to boot,” the announcer said. “First up is a gal who’s made a great showing for her rookie year. Let’s welcome…”

  Brylee tuned out the announcer. Tuned out the crowd. Tuned out everything as she shifted her thoughts to the pattern of the barrels inside the arena.

  She and Rocket had run the cloverleaf hundreds and hundreds of times. Regulations stated they had to take either two right turns and one left or one right and two left. Brylee had experimented with the options and found she and Rocket performed best when they rode into the arena and took a right turn around the right barrel then followed with a left around the left barrel and another left around the center barrel. By the time he came out of the pocket on the third barrel, Rocket would lengthen his long stride and shoot across the arena.

  As the women in front of her competed, Brylee closed her eyes and envisioned riding through the pattern. In her mind’s eye she pictured each turn, the tightness of the pockets around every barrel, and how she’d stay centered in the saddle.

  While she waited for her turn, rain poured down like the skies had broken open, plastering her shirt against her back and soaking through her jeans. She brushed her hand along Rocket’s neck to calm them both and watched Savannah plunge ahead for her ride.

  Although she cheered for her friend, Brylee purposely avoided listening to her score. She didn’t want to know how anyone else had done, how well she needed to do to win. It messed with her ability to focus when she started worrying about beating someone else’s time.

  When Savannah rode past her, Brylee gave her a high-five and then moved up in position. She was next.

  “We’ve got this, Rocket. You know what to do, buddy.” Brylee leaned forward and rubbed his neck then sat back and mentally centered herself as the announcer began her introduction.

  “For those of you who’ve not yet had the privilege of watching this amazing lady, you are in for a treat. Brylee Barton made it twice to the national finals before taking some time off. She’s back now and better than ever. This lil’ gal can show you a thing or two about balance and training a horse. Speaking of horses, she’s riding Christmas Jolly Rocket, better known as Rocket. He’s a ten-year-old gelding she raised and trained from the day he was born. And he’s a beaut to boot. Let’s give a big welcome to Miss Brylee Barton from Walla Walla, Washington!”

  Amid the cheers from the crowd in the stands, Brylee made three quick kissing sounds. Rocket raced into the arena and veered toward the barrel on their right.

  “Look at that gal ride, folks. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Miss Brylee is one of the best when it comes to staying glued to the saddle and maintaining balance,” the announcer said as Brylee and Rocket made it around the first barrel.

  The ground felt soft and slick as Rocket sped across the arena toward the next barrel. Brylee kept her focus on the pocket around the barrel instead of staring directly at the barrel. She’d learned years ago when she centered on the barrel, they’d invariably knock it over, adding five seconds to her score. By keeping her attention in the space around it, where she pictured Rocket turning, it helped them make the turn without a penalty.

  “This might just be the winning ride of the night, folks! Watch this lady go!” the announcer cheered. “Talk about turning and burning. If rain wasn’t pelting down like a hose turned loose from a fire hydrant, there’d be flames shooting out behind her.”

  The announcer was right about the rain. Torrential sheets of it started pouring from the skies, making it hard to see. Rocket struggled to get a firm foothold in the arena dirt that rapidly morphed into mud.

  They reached the third barrel and Brylee breathed a sigh of relief. Rocket had just moved into the turn when he suddenly lost his footing. He twisted his big body as he went down, sliding through the mud into the fence behind them. Pain pierced her leg and stole her breath when she collided with a fence post
. Rocket thrashed and squirmed, attempting to get to his feet.

  Instinctively, Brylee tried to roll out of the way. However, her right foot was trapped in the fence and her left remained caught beneath the horse. She felt as though she was being sucked down in the mud with no hope of escape.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed as Rocket continued to kick his legs, desperate to get away from the fence. Thankfully, her leg came free of the stirrup when he stood. Rocket tossed his head, trembling with fear, before he raced across the arena.

  “Thank you, Lord, for keeping me alive and my horse safe,” she whispered.

  Brylee opened her eyes and tipped her head back, watching as the pickup men rode into the arena. One went to catch Rocket while the other hastened her direction. The announcer and the clown told a joke as the medical team hustled toward her as fast as they could make it through the mud.

  Frustration battled with anger as the pickup man approached. The last person on earth she wanted to see was that particular member of the male species.

  “Maybe today would be a good day to die,” she muttered as she tried again to disentangle her foot from the fence. If she freed it before he reached her, she could crawl over the fence and make her way back to her trailer without speaking to him.

  Why couldn’t he have gone on ignoring her like he had the last five and half years? Why tonight, of all nights, was he going to force her to acknowledge him? Didn’t she have enough to deal with, like missing her opportunity to claim the winning title? Or the undeniable fact she looked like a half-drowned kitten that had been dragged through a pig wallow?

  She thought of her wasted entry fee. Not to mention the hours it would take to get all the mud scrubbed off Rocket and her tack.

  Wasn’t a no-score enough punishment without being forced to face the most arrogant, self-centered, childish man she’d ever known?

  Trapped on her back in the mud, it seeped through her clothes, chilling her and making her fight the need to shiver. She questioned how she could exit the arena with even a shred of dignity when her pants oozed soupy muck like a toddler’s soggy diaper.

  The slap of boots hitting the mud in the arena drew her gaze upward. A handsome face appeared above her as the pickup man leaned over her. Gray-blue eyes twinkled behind thick lashes and a smile full of even, white teeth gleamed in the arena lights. Shaun Price braced his gloved hands on his thighs and offered her an infuriatingly cocky grin.

  Why couldn’t she have at least passed out and awakened far away from the infuriating, irritating, Adonis-like cowboy?

  “Well, Bitsy, I see you’re still racing Christmas,” he said, his voice sounding as deep and rich as she remembered.

  Brylee glowered at him. “You know I hate that name.”

  “Yep, I sure do.” Shaun chuckled and stepped back as the medics surrounded her.

  Available now!

  Books by Shanna Hatfield

  FICTION

  HISTORICAL

  Baker City Brides

  Tad’s Treasure

  Crumpets and Cowpies

  Thimbles and Thistles

  Corsets and Cuffs

  Bobbins and Boots

  Lightning and Lawmen

  Dumplings and Dynamite

  Pendleton Petticoats

  Dacey

  Aundy

  Caterina

  Ilsa

  Marnie

  Lacy

  Bertie

  Millie

  Dally

  Quinn

  Evie

  Hardman Holidays

  The Christmas Bargain

  The Christmas Token

  The Christmas Calamity

  The Christmas Vow

  The Christmas Quandary

  The Christmas Confection

  The Christmas Melody

  The Christmas Ring

  Gifts of Christmas

  Gift of Grace

  Gift of Hope

  Gift of Faith

  Hearts of the War

  Garden of Her Heart

  Home of Her Heart

  Dream of Her Heart

  CONTEMPORARY

  Learnin’ The Ropes

  Love at the 20-Yard Line

  QR Code Killer

  Rose

  Grass Valley Cowboys

  The Cowboy’s Christmas Plan

  The Cowboy’s Spring Romance

  The Cowboy’s Summer Love

  The Cowboy’s Autumn Fall

  The Cowboy’s New Heart

  The Cowboy’s Last Goodbye

  Holiday Brides

  Valentine Bride

  Summer Bride

  Easter Bride

  Rodeo Romance

  The Christmas Cowboy

  Wrestlin’ Christmas

  Capturing Christmas

  Barreling Through Christmas

  Chasing Christmas

  Racing Christmas

  Keeping Christmas

  Friendly Beasts of Faraday

  Scent of Cedar

  Tidings of Joy

  Boughs of Holly

  Wings of an Angel

  Romance by Chance

  Taste of Tara

  Saving Mistletoe

  Silverton Sweethearts

  The Coffee Girl

  The Christmas Crusade

  Untangling Christmas

  Welcome to Romance

  Blown Into Romance

  Sleigh Bells Ring in Romance

  The Women of Tenacity

  Box Set with Bonus Prelude

  Heart of Clay

  Heart of Hope

  Heart of Love

  CHILDREN’S BOOKS

  Steve the Mule

  NONFICTION

  A Cowboy Christmas

  Farm Girl

  Fifty Dates with Captain Cavedweller

  Recipes of Love

  Savvy Entertaining

  Savvy Autumn Entertaining

  Savvy Holiday Entertaining

  Savvy Spring Entertaining

  Savvy Summer Entertaining

  About the Author

  PHOTO BY SHANA BAILEY PHOTOGRAPHY

  USA Today bestselling author Shanna Hatfield is a farm girl who loves to write. Her sweet historical and contemporary romances are filled with sarcasm, humor, hope, and hunky heroes.

  When Shanna isn’t dreaming up unforgettable characters, twisting plots, or covertly seeking dark, decadent chocolate, she hangs out with her beloved husband, Captain Cavedweller, at their home in the Pacific Northwest.

  Shanna loves to hear from readers. Connect with her online:

  Blog: shannahatfield.com

  Facebook: Shanna Hatfield’s Page

  Shanna Hatfield’s Hopeless Romantics Group

  Pinterest: Shanna Hatfield

  Email: shanna@shannahatfield.com

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