Page 18 of Awaiting the Storm
And patience.
Which, God help me, if Maitland Storm finds out that I’m trying to bypass her authority, it could create serious problems. I need to both keep pursuing her while working on Albert. My hope is that by appealing to Albert’s emotions, I can win him over to my side, and he’ll help me convince Maitland that my proposal will be a win for Wildhaven Storm, just as Giles suggested.
The sound of horse hooves striking the concrete echoes through the stable in a steady rhythm. I stop what I’m doing, lean on my pitchfork, and watch as Shelby leads her horse, Jupiter Rising, past me, her long braid swaying down her back. She’s already worked up a sweat, and I’m right there with her—shirt sticking to my spine, hands blistering under my gloves from the rake, legs sore from crouching, lifting, and bending for hours.
It’s just after noon, but we’ve been at this since five this morning. Mucking stalls, re-bedding, watering. I’d like to say it gets easier as the days go by, but that’d be a lie. Every day feels harder, heavier. Every task a little more strenuous on my overworked body.
Shelby flashes me a grin as she leads Jupiter into his stall. “He’s full of piss and vinegar this morning. Gave me a run for my money in the arena.”
“I heard. I thought he was gonna kick the damn door off the hinges of his stall this morning.”
“That’s just his way of saying he’s ready.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”
She pauses. Just for a second. Then she untangles Jupiter’s lead and swings the stall door shut with a loud clank. “So … I entered us in the barrel races in Cheyenne,” she says tentatively.
I blink. “Cheyenne. You mean the big rodeo. The one in November?”
She nods, brushing imaginary hay off her jeans. Not meeting my eyes.
“The one that’s in three weeks?”
“That’s the one,” she mutters.
“Shelby,” I start, but she holds up her hands.
“I know. I know what you’re gonna say, but—”
“You haven’t competed at that level in years,” Ibellow.
Her jaw sets the way it does when she’s digging in her heels. “I’ve still been training every single day. You know I have.”
“Sure, but riding circles in the south pasture a few hours a day isn’t the same as running against twenty girls who have been training and competing nonstop. You know that.”
She yanks off her gloves and tosses them onto the tack bench beside her. “I know myself, Matty. I’m in top form. Jupiter and I ran a 16.50-second round this morning.”
“On what? Our subpar track?” I ask.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. And it would probably be faster in a real arena,” she snaps.
I let out a breath and soften my tone. “I’m sure it would be. I’m not saying you aren’t as good as you always were. I’m just saying you’re out of practice, and that scares me. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to get back on the circuit?”
“Because you would have told me to go, and you need me here right now,” she says, and I open my mouth to disagree, but she stops me. “We both know it’s the truth. So, I’ve been training between client sessions. Jupiter Rising is in good condition. He’s ready. He’s hungry for it, and so am I. Besides, it’s a twenty-thousand-dollar purse. That’s money we need, Matty. And I can win it.”
I stare at her, chest tight. I don’t doubt her skill.
Shelby was a hell of a barrel racer in college. With quick hands and sharp turns, she was fearless. And Jupiter’s got the build and the heart for it—there’s no question about it. But we haven’t had the time or the resources for her to train like she used to. Not with the ranch falling apart one loose board at a time.
“You’re doing enough already,” I say quietly.
She sighs. “But it’s not enough, is it? You’re carrying the weight of this entire ranch. I see you, Matty. I can see how exhausted you are. You’ve been fighting like hell to keep this place and all of us together while all I’ve been doing is training jumpers for shows, which doesn’t pay much. Let me help. At least give me a chance to try.”
I want to tell her no. I want to tell her that the risk of her falling, of Jupiter getting hurt, of things going sideways isn’t worth it. That the thought of her getting hurt scares the shit out of me. But I can’t cast myfears on her shoulders. And I know my sister; once Shelby’s mind is made up, there’s no un-making it.
“I’m just worried,” I whisper.
“I promise I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t a hundred percent confident that we’re both ready.” She says it with such conviction that I believe her.
