Page 2 of Lucky Cowboy

“Awesome as usual,” Mitzi complimented, as she provided her friend and employer with a tight hug. Val felt more than happy to return it. That euphoric feeling of being on cloud nine often accompanied moments like this after an excellent run.

She dismounted Maybelline, giving her a few more nuzzles once she did, then wandered toward her trailer about fifty feet away. With Mitzi seeing to her horse’s care, that left her free to straighten herself a bit before everyone joined the farewell parade around the grounds to conclude that evening’s event.

She’d just sat on her cushioned stool in front of her well-lit vanity when someone came banging on her door.

CHAPTERTWO

At this time of night,the most likely culprit would be the local rodeo manager or one of their staff. Sometimes the event organizer would approach with a change to the schedule or for some similar reason, though that was rare.

Since Val had already taken her turn, though, she couldn’t imagine why they might be here. Then someone thumped on her door a second time, even harder. Enough to shake her entire trailer.

It made her mad to be antagonized like this. Trick riders were part of the reason that rodeos drew crowds in the first place, so usually, those in charge treated her and her sisterhood of riders with great respect. Sometimes even with deference. And while she didn’t need the whole deference thing, after dealing with Biggs, she refused to put up with rude behavior.

A couple of deep voices echoed toward her after this round of banging, each too muffled to identify. All she could tell was that there were at least two of them, and each sounded annoyed and angry. Well, they could just join the club.

Stomping toward her door in her flashiest and prettiest—if currently dusty—boots, she wrenched it wide, her hands in fists, ready to give whoever this problem person might be a piece of her mind.

That’s when she saw one of the men and recognized that thin, greasy, pale hair. That snarling smirk on his face as if he thought himself better than everyone else on the planet, despite the fact that his teeth were both crooked and stained the color of tree bark.

Her entire body became as ice cold as if she’d been dunked unceremoniously into a frozen lake.

Biggs stood there with another less imposing figure, and though it looked as if they might’ve been arguing, Val barely registered the other man. The only person who filled her vision was him. Her ex. And her ex-manager. The man who’d made her life miserable for five long years.

“Valentine, tell this imbecile that I’m your manager,” he ordered. It was that same voice and tone he’d used to manipulate her for so long. The worst thing about it was how she felt this impulse to obey him without question. Like she was so conditioned to follow his commands that it took genuine effort to defy him.

This, more than anything else, scared her. The fact that he could control her so easily unless she actively fought back.

Yet she fought back. Rather than deign to answer him, she twisted her head to look at the other man and discovered that he was wearing a shirt with huge letters that read, “Security.” She had no clue how she’d missed that this other person was a security guard before now. But then, that’s how insidious and all-consuming Biggs’ presence was to her.

Val opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. And despite her terror at the situation, she summoned all her memories of the garbage Biggs had visited on her, how much he’d put her through, and it was at last enough to make her fury burn hotter than her fear.

“He is no manager of mine.” That those words left her so evenly and without faltering gave her strength. It encouraged her. Bolstered her. “And I’d sincerely appreciate it if you removed him from this area.”

Biggs released that awful braying laugh he had, the one that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, to her and scoffed. “Don’t joke around like that, honey. He’ll think you’re being serious.” Before she could reiterate how serious she was, he interrupted her by addressing the security guard. “She gets like this sometimes. Hormonal. Hysterical. You know how women are.”

Rage that only this man could bring out in Val erupted from somewhere deep in her gut, and before Biggs could put more words in her mouth, she pointed straight at him. Then, she spoke to the guard in no uncertain terms. “This man is a crook and a cheat. And yes, he was also once my manager but not any longer. Not for months now. I fired him, and he will never be welcome around me or my people ever again.”

Granted, her “people” consisted only of Mitzi and Maybelline, but no one else needed to know that.

The security guard muttered, “Code nine to area ten. Code nine to area ten,” into the radio at his throat, and though she had no idea what those codes stood for, she’d never felt so grateful to have someone take her side. Also, she suspected that the guard had asked for backup because his expression came across as leery every time he glanced in Biggs’ direction.

That was when her ex decided to get ugly. He yanked some papers from the inside of his jacket pocket. “This proves that I have the authority over her. Here’s our contract.”

At first, all of Val’s blood drained down to her toes. Shehadsigned a contract hiring him as her manager at her ailing father’s behest, but that had been years ago. And not only had she fired him, the contract itself should’ve expired long ago. Unless he’d slithered and finagled his way into some sort of forgery or something.

She wouldn’t put it past him.

Thankfully, the crunching of cowboy boots on the pebble walkway—she’d know that sound anywhere—came toward them, and she peeked up. Even if the man approaching hadn’t been in uniform, she would’ve known him as a member of law enforcement simply from his stance and demeanor.

Calm authority poured off him in waves, and as he closed the distance altogether, she absorbed the black uniform shirt and pants, the gray tie and yellow patches on the arms, as well as his gray ten-gallon cowboy hat and boots. He peered over at her and tipped his hat.

“Sheriff Mark Talbot with the Rocky Ridge Sheriff’s Department,” he greeted her before nodding briefly at Biggs before pivoting toward the security guard. “Reese, catch me up if you would.”

“Sheriff, this man here has created quite a racket claiming to be this lady’s manager. He’s demanding entrance to her trailer. She, however, has a differing opinion on the matter.”

“That right?” The sheriff said, his tone carefully light. Val didn’t know who he might be aiming that question at, but she answered it.

“That’s correct, sheriff. I fired this man months ago and now manage myself just fine.”

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