Page 34 of Falling for the Cowgirl
“Fine.” She cast another glance toward the back door. Seeing no one else around, she lowered her voice. “I’m aiming to buy a few sheep so I can breed and raise them for the wool.”
They’d never had sheep on the ranch. In fact, even back on the Pennsylvania farm, they’d had goats but no sheep. Most farmers and ranchers thought sheep were a nuisance—same as the wild mustangs—competing for the open-range grassland the cattle grazed on.
As far as Ivy knew, there weren’t any sheep farmers in Colorado, at least not with large herds. But the Mormon settlers had brought sheep with them, and eastern Utah was now thriving with sheep farms. She’d heard that raising sheep was even more profitable than cattle. In the spring when a ewe was sheared, the sale of the wool covered the upkeep of the ewe for an entire year.
Judd took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Well? You gonna tell me what a blamed fool I am forconsidering it?” She wasn’t sharing a peep about the land she was gunning for. He’d think she was even a bigger fool.
“Ain’t gonna say much at all about it, except that you can call on me if you need help with the critters.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“You sure you ain’t gonna blabber to Wyatt about my plans?” If Judd told her brothers about the sheep, that would pop open a whole keg of questions she didn’t want to answer—like how she’d be able to pay for them and where she intended to graze them.
“Truth has a way of comin’ out in its own time no matter what we do to keep it locked away.”
Another Judd proverb, as Linnea called his wise words. Usually Ivy took his proverbs to heart. But she had too many things she was hiding. And this time, she hoped Judd was wrong.
Chapter
11
Sweat trickled down Ivy’s soot-covered face, and she prayed her disguise would hold out until the end of the competition, until she had her winnings in her pocket. But with the crowds surrounding the wide fence that had been erected to form a contest ring, her stomach twisted as she kept waiting for someone—especially one of her family members—to recognize her and call out.
Judd’s warning from earlier in the week still haunted her, that truth had a way of coming out in its own time.
Maybe she’d been too hasty in donning her disguise today of all days, Independence Day, when every family and cowhand for miles around congregated in Fairplay to celebrate with picnics, games, music, dancing, and competitions.
But so far over the past couple of hours, no one had made any comments. Except Jericho. Even now as she perched on the rail near the other contestants, he leaned in beside her, watching the final round of the bronc riding.
“Gordo’s good.” Jericho spoke low, keeping his conversation with her private. He didn’t take his gaze from the tough, muscular cowhand doing his best to stay on the wild horse, even as the mustang bucked to dislodge him.
“Yep. He sure can chase the clouds. And he’s never been grassed, at least that I’ve seen.” She kept her tone low too. “But with that bronc doing a circle buck, he’s gonna get dizzy mighty fast.”
Riding bareback and hanging on to nothing but the gelding’s mane, Gordo raised his free arm to keep his balance during the twisting, bone-jarring ride.
“How long has he been competing in these parts?”
“He’s been in every competition I’ve seen.” Ivy had been watching the contests long before she’d gotten up the nerve to enter them as Buster Bliss. “That devil sure is bucking the whiskers off Gordo.”
“If the fellow is from the East like he says, how’d he learn to ride like that?”
Ivy twisted at the long piece of grass in her mouth. “Heard he lived down in Texas for a spell. Maybe he was a rough-string rider there.”
Gordo hung on for several more seconds, an eternity in bronc riding, before a gun went off, signaling he’d lasted longer than anyone else. A cheer went up from the crowd. Gordo’s pickup man rode over to help him dismount and get out of the way of the wild horse.
The scent of roasting meat and freshly popped kettle corn permeated the air and made Ivy’s stomach growl. Across the field, the children raced in sacks, their laughter a sweet sound rising above the chatter of the bystanders.
Ivy started to climb down. The cattle-roping contest wasnext, and Buster Bliss was last on the list of entrants. The best for last. She’d worked her way to that coveted position, and she aimed to hold it the rest of the summer.
If only Wyatt and Flynn and everyone else in the family didn’t have to watch. Jericho had recognized her—what if they figured out her identity too? Trouble was, they wouldn’t be as understanding as Jericho had been. In fact, he would seem like a holy saint next to Wyatt and Flynn if they discovered her disguise.
She’d ridden with them to town but made up excuses about needing to go off and tend to a few things, telling them she’d meet up with them later for the evening activities. Only Astrid had raised her brows, but no one questioned her, since they were already well acquainted with her independent ways.
“You sure you want to do this today?” Jericho straightened but didn’t look at her.
