Page 3 of Falling for the Cowgirl
The horses trotted forward, not too fast or too slow. She used a few paces to get her balance and crouch into the rhythm of the up-and-down sway of first one horse and then the other. The jolting was challenging. But she’d learned that the more she relaxed into the movement, the easier it was.
She kept abreast of the other two riders who clutched at their reins and strained to hold their horses close enough together that the straddling wouldn’t get uncomfortable.
As the halfway point neared, she snapped the reins andclucked to the horses. Time to speed things up and give the crowd the show they were hoping for. The horses took her cue and lengthened their strides. But with the increase in speed, one of the mares veered from the other.
She jerked on the reins to keep the horse in line. But it only continued to pull away. Her boot began to slip. And although she grasped the leather straps as tightly as she could, she was gonna have to let go before she fell and crashed.
Chapter
2
Jericho Bliss pushed away from the barn and straightened, his muscles tensing. The little fellow at the front was losing his position on the left flank. In a matter of seconds, the horses would be too far apart for him to race. And he was destined for a terrible tumble, one that would put him in the direct path of the contenders behind him. Not only would he be trampled, but he’d possibly cause the other two riders to lose their footholds too.
Jericho gauged the distance between himself and the approaching disaster. He didn’t have time to intervene, not with the onlookers blocking his way. All he could do was watch with a churning gut.
Why had the man in front decided to go bareback? Without the saddle, he had less traction.
Jericho shook his head. The man was an idiot.
The crowd seemed to be holding a collective breath as the fellow fumbled and lost his footing. For several seconds, he rode with one leg hanging in the air.
Jericho cringed and waited for the fall.
Somehow, the man hung on to the reins from the runaway mount and began wrapping them around his wrist, tightening the slack between himself and the uncooperative horse. He had amazing control, drawing in the steady mare, bringing her closer to the other horse.
With a daring that defied death, the man planted his boot back into position and shifted in such a way that the runaway horse was able to read an unspoken request to do his bidding. It calmed and aligned with the other horse, so that within seconds the rider was firmly in place straddling the two.
The crowd let out a cheer.
At the sound, the man flicked his reins and urged the horses even faster.
More whistles and encouraging shouts filled the air.
Jericho released a pent-up breath but couldn’t release the tension in his muscles. The fellow was a daring idiot.
As he crossed the finish line, the accolades rose to a deafening level. Only then did the scrap of a man let go of the left horse and shift himself with ease onto the other one. Nimbly, he lowered himself first to a sitting position before he swung both legs over and hopped down even as the horse continued galloping.
The move was effortless. And it reminded him of the way Ivy had practiced and perfected dismounting during their months of trekking west together. He, Dylan, and Ivy had all been just kids and had invented fun ways to pass the time, including trick riding and dismounting.
His chest pinched at the remembrance of those carefree days. What he wouldn’t give to have just a fraction of that untroubled life back.
A beefy hand clamped on his shoulder, followed by the sour, sweaty odor of Mack Custer. “Think you could’ve done better, old man?”
Jericho shrugged and tried to loosen the knot inside. “Probably.”
Custer laughed, his rounded middle wobbling beneath a too-tight shirt that outlined the dark sweat spots under his arms and on his chest. “Ain’t nobody beat Buster Bliss yet.”
Bliss? Jericho returned his attention to the short, slim man.
“You know him?” Custer homed in on the fellow too. “He kin of yours or something?”
“I don’t have any relatives left.” Aside from his dad. But no one out in the West knew about Elijah Bliss, and it was better if things stayed that way.
Buster Bliss trotted to the other two contestants and shook their hands. “Well, Buster might be puny,” Custer continued, “but he sure does bring in the crowds.”
And the money.
Custer had always been a gambler, even when Jericho had been the foreman of Elkhorn Ranch. Jericho wouldn’t have chosen the man to replace him, but the boss had given Custer the job anyway, even though Jericho had recommended several others.
