Chapter 32
EVERYONE. LOVES. LANDRY
“His score was high enough that he could really not do well today and still make it to the finals,” I explain to a woman standing next to me in the bleachers.
She’s dating a guy from Sable Sky, and doesn’t know anything about cowboys, ranch life or the rodeo, and here I am, the new import, acting like an old expert.
Then again, that’s what I’ve become. That’s what it takes to make a good film, and I realize that as I’m telling Sue Ellen how the riders mark out, and the differences between riding broncs and bulls.
I may have felt guilty for getting involved with Landry out of fear of it ruining my work but the truth is, I’ve learned so much and have such a good film because of it.
Even if I don’t win the award, I know that I did a damn good job.
“Gotcha,” Sue Ellen says, scribbling notes in her notebook. “And… you’re here watching your dad?” she guesses, which has me and Sadie both snorting.
I hook a thumb at Sadie. “She’s watching her dad. I’m watching my husband.” I hold out my hand and watch as Sue Ellen’s eyes fall to the simple band. She cups her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I assumed you two were sisters but—”
I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
Sue Ellen looks between us, and I glance down at Sadie, who has binoculars glued to her little face despite the fact that we’re close enough and I know those are only blurring her perfect vision. “I can’t believe you’re her mama.”
Sadie hears this, and I’m unprepared to reply. It would be dishonorable to Amelia to say I am, and yet it would feel cruel to Sadie not to acknowledge our relationship right now. I don’t know what to do, but I don’t have to worry because Sadie answers.
“My mama died when I was born. Miss Quinn is my bonus mama, because she married my daddy.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears. I nod. “That’s right. I somehow got lucky enough to have the title of bonus Mama.” I stroke my fingers through her hair, and the announcer is at work on the periphery, but for now, I can’t take my eyes off of Miss Sadie Vaughn.
“That’s a nice name you gave me,” I say, trying it out again to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. “Bonus Mama.”
She nods. “Yep. And once you start growing a baby in your belly, I’ll get a new title, too.”
I arch a brow. “Oh yeah?”
Sadie nods again, all bouncy curls and life plans. “Big sister. Duh.”
Love and the girls stomp up the bleachers and rush in toward us, apologizing for being late. The moment between Sadie and I was so special, I have to reach back and double-check that I recorded it. I did.
I won’t put this in the film. But I will rewatch it without a doubt.
“The baby is teething,” Love explains, pulling sippy cups and bags of Goldfish crackers from her purse. “Petunia threw a fit,” she sighs, waving her hand through the air as if to dispel it all. “Anyway, we’re here. Who’s he on? Did they say?”
I nod, pointing to the digital screen above the arena, one that displays useful information on half the board and an advertisement for farriers on the other half. Love finds Landry in the list, and my heart nearly stops when her smile slides, shattering quietly amidst the packed bleachers. “Oh no.”
I look at the board but don’t understand why I should be scared. Landry’s next. He’s heading the pack with the highest-scoring ride so far. “What?” I breathe, and find myself linking my hand with Sadie’s, giving it a squeeze.
“Twister bucked three yesterday.”
My face flames with heat. I was just thinking how smart I’ve gotten where a ranch and animals are concerned, and now I don’t even know the biggest threat against my husband.
Love, reading my fears, scoots closer as the girls share a Highlights for Children magazine, Sadie abandoning my hand to join her friends in finding the notebook amidst the jungle scene.
“Twister likes to buck. He’s angry and mean, always has been, probably always will be.
He’s the number one bronco to buck off a rider.
But Landry’s already had him, and conquered him. ”
My stomach sinks, and the edges of my vision blur. I know Landry can defeat this animal, I know he can. Still, I’m nervous about what’s possible. I wanted it to be easy, as silly as it sounds. This man deserves it, if anyone does.
Love sees my fears and grips my leg, smiling. “Hey, you know he’s gonna win, he’ll just have a thrill on Twister first.”
I can’t bring myself to speak, because my throat is tight and my eyes are warm.
“He’s gonna be good out there. He and Tate have been training like crazy. Tate trained him for this, okay? I promise. I’m not just saying that.”
I nod my head, some of my fear gently washed away by her words.
Adjusting my tripod, I make sure the entire arena is onscreen.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I grip the cold metal rail of the grandstand, eyes locked on the chute where Landry sits astride the bareback rigging, his gloved hand wrapped tight in the handle. The announcer’s voice booms across the arena.
“Ladies and gentlemen, kiddos of Sable Sky, hold on to your hats, next in the chute is our town favorite, five-time rodeo winner hailing from your very own Sable Sky, riding the bad boy, Twister, wearing number one-forty-three, it’s Landry Vaughn!”
Everyone gets to their feet. The world around me is all cheering and clapping, and my eyes are set on the cowboy on the perlino-coated animal, bounding at the gate.
The crowd roars, but all I can hear is the thundering of my own pulse.
The gate cracks open and Twister explodes out like a storm, muscles and fury on display as a warning as his hind legs kick so high his hooves disappear into the skyline.
Landry’s back arches with Twister’s first savage buck, his spurs raking in perfect rhythm.
I can already see the strain in his shoulders, and see the way his free arm is fighting for balance.
The thing about making this film is that I’ve watched Landry Vaughn train for months and I now know what a hard ride looks like.
Like this.
Eight seconds should be quick, but right now it feels like forever. I whisper his name under my breath like a prayer and reach for Sadie’s hand.
Twister spins hard to the left, then whips back right in a blur of dust and flying mane, the kind of move that usually ends a ride entirely.
Landry slips sideways, his body tilting dangerously, neck wrenching, boot heel losing its hold on Twister’s flank.
For one sickening heartbeat, I see his chin drop toward Twister’s shoulder, the rigging pulled taut like it may snap, and my stomach lurches into sickness and unease.
I squeeze Sadie’s hand and bite my lip so hard that I taste blood, but ignore it, willing him to stay on Twister, to keep that free hand high and his spine loose.
Twister sunfishes again, all four hooves off the ground at once, and Landry’s hat goes flying, spinning away into the chaos. He’s hanging on by sheer grit now, his teeth clenched, every muscle in his arm corded against the pull of gravity and eleven hundred pounds of unflinching rage.
The buzzer finally screams across the arena as Landry wrenches himself upright, just as the pickup men close in on him.
Bailed off clean, Landry’s boots hit the dirt in a stumble as Twister kicks one last time, giving everyone a run.
The crowd erupts around me, but I’m already halfway down the steps, tears blurring the scoreboard as it flashes SEVENTY-SEVEN.
My husband stands in the arena, chest heaving, dust streaked across his grin as he looks around.
“Landry!” I cup one hand to my mouth, my voice shaking and frantic, my other hand still in Sadie’s.
He turns, and his entire body softens at the sight of us.
Limping toward us, he hugs Sadie and she praises him, sifting her little fingers through the back of his hair, kissing his cheek.
She climbs up the chute gate and starts chatting with the other kids as Landry’s eyes come to mine.
Glistening with sweat, chest still huffing hard, he wraps his arms around me and sinks his lips into my hairline. “I’m okay, honey. Don’t you get upset.”
I nod against his chest. “That was scary.”
He stacks his chin on my head. “Nah. That was Twister.”
I pull back, and blink up at the scoreboard where Landry is now seated second in place for the finals. He reads my worry. “I’m gonna win, don’t you worry.”
I swipe my foolish tears. “I know you will.” Still, something nags at my insides, tugs at my gut, and leaves me feeling so unsure and uneasy. I slide my hand over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, and give a soft squeeze. “How are you feeling?”
Landry grimaces. “Probably no dancing and drinking tonight. I pulled a muscle in my neck and I think it’s best if we go home.”
I nod my head. “I’ll just grab some bags of ice and meet you at the truck?”
He smiles and hooks a thumb in Sadie’s shirt, playfully tugging her off the rail. “Go on and help Miss Quinn get some bags of ice.”
She nods, then stops to barter because she is six years old, after all. “If I help with the ice, can I have a Popsicle at home?”
I wink. “Of course.” I bump my arm against hers. “And if I get a cherry, I’ll give you mine.”
She laughs, and we link hands, but I peer back over my shoulder to catch Landry gripping the side of the chute, hand on his neck, face screwed up in agony. Tate’s eyes are wide, and their conversation does nothing for the nerves in my belly.
Tate’s sleepy eyes blink up at me from the bottom of the porch, where he stands. I rub my eyes and fold my arms over my chest, yawning. “What’s up, Tate? Is everything okay? Love and the girls?”
He takes the first step, but waits. “How’d he sleep?”
I shake my head and feel the weight of a million pounds beneath each of my eyes. “He didn’t.”
“Fuck,” Tate grumbles, surprising me.