Page 2 of Falling for the Cowgirl
Ivy had waited impatiently for another letter, for more news, for anything from Dylan. She’d told herself she was just concerned about her brother and wanted assurance he was okay. But deep down, she couldn’t deny she’d wanted information about Jericho too.
For a long while, she hadn’t been able to resign herself to the fact that he’d walked out of her life, that he hadn’t wanted her. She’d clung to the hope that maybe, once he was gone, he’d realize how much he missed her and would return to tell her he couldn’t live without her.
But as the weeks had passed into months and the months into years, the hard truth had taken up residence and crowded out any hope that was left—Jericho had never cared about her and wasn’t coming back.
“We got Roman-style riding next,” Mack Custer said to Jericho. “Saved the hardest for last. Wanna join in for old time’s sake?”
Jericho was silent, and she was tempted to turn around and gawk at him.
“Winner gets a whole dollar.”
If Jericho raced, what if he ended up beside her? She hadn’t changed all that much during his absence. With her luck, he’d recognize her and blab her identity.
As his silence stretched on, her muscles tensed.
“Thanks for the offer.” Jericho’s voice was low and cautious. “Maybe next time.”
She didn’t wait around for him to say anything else. And she sure as heaven wasn’t waiting for someone to questionwhy she and Jericho shared the same last name. When she’d picked the alias, it’d been the only surname she’d been able to think of quick-like. Clearly she should’ve tried harder to find a different one.
Now it was time to hightail it on home. As much as she wanted an extra dollar to add to her winnings, she couldn’t risk the exposure.
She made her way across the corral toward the barn entrance, hoping to disappear inside before any of the fellas noticed she was gone. Unfortunately, one of the Elkhorn Ranch cowhands saw her coming and slapped her on the back so hard she almost winced. “You nailed it out there, Buster!”
“Yep.” She lowered her pitch, trying to make herself sound like a man.
“Got my bets placed on you for the next event too.” The cowhand strode alongside her.
Another of the fellas fell into step. “You aimin’ to ride with saddles or without?”
One thing was for blamed sure. She wasn’t about to get away from the competition unnoticed. Every fella around was itching to watch her race. And why shouldn’t she stay? Jericho had no right to come strolling back into South Park and prevent her from earning more money for her new ranch.
Stiffening her shoulders, she veered toward the horses already waiting for the contestants. Six horses meant only three riders. She’d have no trouble winning the contest this time. Maybe she oughta make things fair-like and ride bareback.
“Let’s take them off.” She eyed the horses, the most docile Elkhorn Ranch had. “Might as well give everyone the show they paid to see.”
Her declaration brought a few more whoops.
When she’d hatched her plan to disguise herself as a man, she hadn’t realized it’d be so hard. But she hadn’t had much choice, not after she’d been banned from entering the competitions as a woman.
The first time she’d tried, everyone had laughed at her. No one had given her the time of day, even though most folk for miles around knew she’d been working with cattle since she’d moved to Colorado when she was twelve.
Fact was, after years of perfecting her cattle roping, she was a heap better than the majority of men. This past spring during branding time, the Healing Springs’ foreman had made her the main roper, giving her the job of heeling the calves and dragging them to the iron men. She rode steady, had perfect timing, and could judge distance.
But when it came to the competitions, her skills hadn’t mattered a lick. The organizers wouldn’t allow her to participate. Not until she’d come riding in as Buster Bliss. Then they’d been more than happy to let a scrawny man like Buster take part, thinking he’d be easy to beat.
Over the past month, she’d shown them Buster wasn’t as soft and fluffy as a goose-feather pillow. Buster had some gumption and grit. And he didn’t give up easily.
In no time, she was ready to ride with her pair of horses at one end of the open range next to the other two contestants and their horses. The finish line was near the main barn, where the spectators had congregated.
As she situated her boots on the backs of her mounts and adjusted the reins of both, she couldn’t keep from scanning the crowds. She didn’t care where Jericho was or what he was doing. She really didn’t. That wasn’t why she was searchingfor his lean frame. Nope, she was only looking so she knew where not to focus later.
When she didn’t catch sight of his stiff, proud shoulders or his handsome face, she released a breath. See, she had nothing to fear. Jericho had already left. That’s because he was an expert at leaving.
At the crack of a pistol from the side of the field, she shook the reins and started her horses. Riding while standing up and straddling two horses wasn’t an easy feat. Not many could do it. During the Roman-style racing the previous Sunday over at Bear Creek Ranch, one of the men had fallen and broken his shoulder and arm. He’d been real lucky he hadn’t cracked open his head with the way he’d landed.
Yep. This race was one of the most dangerous events. But that’s why she liked it. She thrived on danger. And the earnings were decent.
Between the fees for the contestants and the charges to the spectators, the winners of each contest always left with a prize. Even if it wasn’t grand, at least it was something. The real money was made in the betting. Something she didn’t do. Ever. Not after all the trouble Dylan had gotten himself into as a result of gambling.
