Page 15 of Ride the Sky

I tense as Aiden flashes through my mind but say nothing.

Vic stops to pull a weed from the ground. “Saw something interesting today.”

“Oh, yeah?” I arch a brow. “Is the coyote that stole your boot back?”

“Not that. This.” Vic reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a creased piece of glossy paper.

I blink when he hands it over.

Shit. It’s a write-up inRodeo Weekly.

Damn Pappy. He told me they’d wait to run the story.

Vic’s face is impossible to read. “We said a hundred bulls, Fallon. You’re only at eighty-eight, and you know it.”

Double shit.

I promised Vic I wouldn’t compete in any major events until I had at least a hundred bulls under my belt. Although I’ve been riding bulls for the last year, in small rodeos across the country, I’ve yet to snag a place in one of the main events.

Until last month, when I was invited to participate in the Rock ’n Ride, a new competition sanctioned by the PRCA.

All I need is an eight-second ride and a respectable score, and I’d make history.

I want that shot. I want that prize money. More prize money means anywhere but Resurrection. Means I am as good as any man.

“That ride’s next week,” Vic says, pulling me from my thoughts.

I jut my chin, refusing to let him sway me. “I know it.”

“You know it, huh?” He crosses his thick arms. “Let me tell you what I know. You’re good enough as you are.” It’s what a father would say. Boring. Safe.

I swallow, press a tattooed hand to my heart. “I don’t want to be good. I want to be the best.”

He taps his temple. “Migraines.”

“I haven’t had a migraine since I got here.” I tuck my messy braid behind my shoulder. “Pappy said it’s time. Time to—”

“Pappy,” Vic scoffs in disgust. “That man doesn’t have a lick of common sense in his brain.”

“I can do it.” Guilt makes me defensive, and I dig in my heels. “You know I can.”

“That wasn’t our deal. Ain’t no way you can pull off an eight-second ride on the beasts they have in PRCA. Every year those bulls are meaner. Made to kill.”

My temper flares. “If I was a man—”

“You ain’t a man,” he snaps. “You’re a fool-headed girl who won’t listen.”

His disappointment socks me in the gut. My fingers curl to fists.

“Vic—”

His face is hard. “You want to gamble your life, go right ahead. I ain’t gonna stop you. Training was to make you better, not slow you up. If you don’t get that, I don’t know where we go from here.” He stalks away before I can answer.

I exhale and look up to the sun. “Fuck.”

I wrench open the heavy wooden door and let myself into Bunkhouse B. A shower and sweatpants should be on my mind, but all I can do is fume. I still can’t shake Vic’s words. His disappointment. He thinks I’m reckless. Hell, Iamreckless.

My heart hammers in frustration. I adore Vic, am grateful to him, but he’s just another person who thinks I can’t do this.

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