Page 45 of The Cowboy's Redemption
Hot, meaning anxious, which wasn’t an observation she wanted to hear, or a discussion she wanted to have. And letting his presence get inside her head and question her choices, making her wonder why he was here, was painful and awkward and not at all what she needed right now.
“Crackerjack is fine. This is his third race of the week, so he knows the arena. If he’s hot, it’s because he’s ready to roll,” she said.
If anyone was hot, it was Sponge Bob. He checked Crackerjack over as if Levi’s assessment had more weight than his. Or hers. She leaned over the rail to kiss his cheek. “I’ve got to go.”
“Be careful,” her dad said.
“I’m always careful.”
She could handle her horse. She could crack those fifteen seconds, too. If Crackerjack continued to perform, they might make it to the Montana Pro Rodeo finals, a goal she’d thought out of their reach. She felt good about his performance. She couldn’t allow Levi to disrupt her focus.
She rode Crackerjack into the alleyway and waited for the signal for them to pass through the gate. Crackerjack shook his head, a sure sign he was eager, not anxious.
She was eager, too—not only to beat fifteen seconds, but to win this round and prove to Levi she was right to give up her share in Otto’s business and focus on her career. This was where she belonged.
The signal came and they shot forward.
The first barrel went well. On their approach to the second barrel, however, something was off. A movement in the crowd—maybe a noise. Whatever the reason, she’d lost her horse’s attention, which affected her attention, as well. They came around the barrel, but Dana gave the signal too late, and in an attempt to compensate for her mistake, Crackerjack’s hind quarters got under him. He went down on his haunches. Dana struggled to bring them both upright, shifting sideways in the saddle to help him readjust their balance, but Crackerjack’s shoulder hit the barrel. Pandemonium broke out after that. He fishtailed, body flailing, tipping Dana free from the saddle. He was already down so she didn’t have far to fall, except she landed hard on her left arm and heard the crack.
The cries from the crowd, and the way people surged to their feet as if possessed by one body, panicked Crackerjack further, and he struggled to stand. One hind hoof pinned Dana to the ground, crushing the breath from her lungs, then he was back on four feet and off for the alley before anyone in the arena could stop him.
Dana curled into a ball and struggled to breathe, her chest and arm, and really, every inch of her body, on fire.
Then her dad was with her, holding her head steady while she gagged into the dirt.
*
The ambulance ridewas a blur. The attendants reassured her that while she’d broken some ribs, which was why it was so painful to breathe, her lungs hadn’t been punctured. The arm was broken too, but she’d already known that.
Drugs courtesy of the emergency room made everything okay, and when she woke up later on, the room was semi-dark and unfamiliar. Ugly green curtains were drawn. She had vague recollections of Levi holding her hair while she threw up in a trash can, her body riddled with pain, but that might have been a flashback to Bremner. She knew for certain her dad had been with her in the arena, so maybe that was where the confusion came in.
She tipped her head a little more to the side, peering past the IV bag hooked up to her good arm, and there was Levi, reading a book in a chair next to the window.
He snapped the book closed when he saw she was awake. The smile, his default expression, was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s my dad?” she asked, because she couldn’t lead with how happy she was to see him. He’d think that was the meds talking. Maybe it was.
“He and your mother went to find dinner, then they’re off to their motel to grab some sleep. I told them I’d sit with you and let them know when you’re awake.” He waggled his phone. “Done. They’ll pick you up in the morning. You’re here overnight for observation because of the ribs, but they aren’t going to cast your arm. It’s a clean break, so the doctor said a sling is enough.”
She asked the question she should have led with. “How’s Crackerjack?”
“Banged up. Excited. Your dad moved him to a private facility for the night in the hopes he’ll calm down enough to manage the four-hour drive to Billings tomorrow.”
Poor Crackerjack. She’d done this to him. He’d been fine until she saw Levi. Then, he’d picked up on her stress. She should have listened when Levi said he looked hot—the man studied animal aggression for a living. “It wasn’t his fault. The crowd was larger than normal tonight. I was worried about how he’d react, and he picked up on it.”
“Have you ever stopped to consider that the fault might be one hundred percent with him? That you were riding a horse that isn’t a winner—the same way you’ve ridden Lady the last two or three years, even though she isn’t in top condition?”
“You think I’msabotagingmyself? Why on earth would I do something like that?” She’d wanted to make it to finals ever since she was old enough to compete. It was her dream.
Levi tossed the book on the floor and leaned forward. A five o’clock shadow scuffed up his jaw and his eyes were reddened and tired. “You were already looking for a new horse because you knew Lady couldn’t compete for much longer. You could have sold Crackerjack years ago when you knew he was unreliable around crowds and unfit for major competition, but you kept him as your backup. You could have bought Tanoa two years ago and had her trained and ready to go. So yes, I do think you’re sabotaging yourself. My question is why. At first, I thought it was because of the fame. You don’t like the attention that comes with it. But after the last talk we had, I finally figured it out.”
She summoned her haughtiest Lady Dana manner. “Do tell.”
Levi had seen Lady Dana naked, however, and her haughtiness didn’t appear to faze him a bit. “Because you can’t handle not being in control. You can’t fix Crackerjack’s fear of crowds, Dana. He’s wired that way. Maybe he can overcome it. Maybe he can’t. Your dad says he handles better for men—so let a man ride him and see if they have better luck. There’s no shame in it. The same goes for the fight you had with Tanner. You can’t go back and fix the bad timing, and that drives you crazy, but what if you could go back? What would you change? Tanner’s the one who was at fault, and he deserved to be called out. And while riding Crackerjack when you were pregnant might have been ill-advised, lots of women ride into their third trimesters. You were healthy, believed you were in control of your horse, and you know what? Accidents happen.”
He didn’t know what he was talking about. She didn’t want to hear any more.
But he was just getting started. “You know what I really think, though? To the outside world, you look damned near perfect. You’ve created a whole public image around it. Tanner looked perfect to everyone, too, especially after he died. And the more perfect everyone saw him, the more perfect you had to be to live up to expectations. Except he wasn’t perfect, and you think you’re the only person who knows it, because all you can remember are his flaws.”
