Chapter 2
Steer wrestling was before team roping, so Jensen would have time to change shirts before he had to be back.
He decided he’d use Cobra for steer wrestling and Snowman for the team roping.
The Appaloosa had long, strong legs and ran like a maniac.
That would be good, as long as Jensen could hold him back and not break the barrier before the calf did.
There were ten guys bulldogging that day, and he was next to last. He was happy to see that Curt Fellows was his hazer for that particular day.
Curt was a good guy and knew what he was doing, so that was a worry he didn’t have.
Jensen’s time in the gym over the previous five years had ensured that he had enough upper body strength to do the job, and sure enough, he had the lowest time.
There was only one more guy to compete against him and fortunately for Jensen, he missed the steer entirely, so Jensen took the event that day.
He hoped his edge would be enough to keep him afloat when averaged with the next day’s score.
He spurred Cobra straight to his trailer, changed, climbed aboard again, ran to the barn, and swapped Cobra for Snowman.
He hated to put Cobra back in a stall with no cool-down time, no rub down, nothing, but he didn’t have time.
Looking around, he didn’t see anyone he knew or trusted well enough to do it for him, so it would have to wait, and he decided he’d make it up to the dun that evening by walking him for a good long while.
By the time he got back, everyone was pulling together for the team roping.
He didn’t like the lasso he had with him, but it was all he had, so it would have to do.
Why didn’t I pay more attention to roping in college?
he asked himself as he sat and waited for Shyanna to show up.
Everyone was getting their tack and equipment inspected by the ring stewards, and he’d about decided she’d made the decision to bow out when she finally appeared.
He watched as they checked over her tack and equipment, and when she looked up and around, he waved to her.
“Thought you’d decided not to show,” he said when she rode up beside him.
Her face clouded over. “Thought I wasn’t going to get to. Somebody put a padlock on Rhubarb’s stall door and I couldn’t get it off. Couldn’t even find a hammer to knock it off. Had to get maintenance to come and cut it loose.”
“Seriously? That was pretty lame,” Jensen said, disgusted.
“Yeah? Well, it almost worked. Another five minutes and I would’ve been out. I’m just glad I got there a little early. You ready?” she asked, looking him up and down.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Been wondering why I didn’t pay more attention to roping in college,” he said with a grin.
“College?”
“Yeah. I was an agricultural science major, but I was involved in the student rodeo association,” he said.
“Ah. Me too. Community college level. Of course, they wouldn’t let me do anything but barrel race and breakaway roping. Oh, and pole bending.”
“Where’d you learn to rope?” he asked.
She chuckled. “Taught myself.”
“Then you did a pretty good job.” He sat patiently, watching some of the other teams talking together. “How many roping partners have you been through so far?”
She snorted. “How many rodeos have I attended?”
“You don’t have a regular partner?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Every one of them has quit me. They either quit and left me without a partner to compete, or they competed with me and when I did well, they took so much shit from the other guys that they quit me. I can’t count on anybody.”
Aw, hell, now I REALLY wish I’d paid more attention to roping. She deserves to have somebody she can count on. I can’t screw this up.
Long before he was ready, it was their turn. Jensen’s nerves were jangled as he watched them load the calf into the chute. “You got this?” Shyanna called to him from his right on the other side of the roping chute.
“Yeah. I’ve got this,” he answered, careful not to nod. That would signal the workers to release the calf, and he didn’t need any false starts.
“Good luck,” she called out.
“To us both,” he called back.
A young cowboy he’d never met stood to his left and by Snowman’s head, patting the horse gently over his right eye so he couldn’t see the chute.
“Good luck, cowboy,” he said to Jensen. Rope in his teeth, Jensen worked to get Snowman right where he was supposed to be, but the horse was so excited and high-strung that he fought every attempt to control him.
When he was still for a split second, Jensen gave the worker a nod.
The calf burst from the chute, and Snowman leaped forward, Jensen instinctively leaning out over his neck as he spun the lasso. When it fell, it wrapped neatly around the calf’s horns, and Snowman, with Jensen’s direction, moved forward and let the calf draw the rope taut.
In a split second, another lasso cut through the air and the calf’s rear legs were lifted off the ground. Cheering erupted in the stands, and Jensen took a good look.
She’d done it. Shyanna had lassoed those two rear legs in perfect form.
But when the judges called out the time, Jensen’s jaw dropped.
They’d nailed it and come in a good three-quarters of a second below the second-place competitors to that point.
He couldn’t believe it. As they shook their lassos loose and released the calf, Jensen coiled his rope and Shyanna rode up beside him.
“Nice work, Strader,” she said, then rode away.
He gave Snowman a quick kick in the sides to catch up to her.
Before she could get out of the staging area, Jensen called out, “Shyanna?”
She spun the bay mare and stared at him. “Yeah?”
“Nice job.”
“Thanks. Like I said, you too. Later.” With that, she reined the mare away and took off.
That was weird, Jensen thought. He turned Snowman and headed toward the barn, only to have two cowboys step out in front of him. The big Appaloosa reared up, but Jensen settled him down with a hand on his neck. “Hey, guys, might want to watch where you’re going.”
“No, it’s you who needs to watch himself, Strader,” one of them barked.
“Do I know you?” Jensen asked, studying them. Neither of the men looked familiar.
“You will. We’ll be your worst nightmare if you keep messing with that bitch,” the other threatened.
“I’m not messing with any bitch. I’m working with a fellow rodeo rider, and you’d do well to keep your opinions to yourselves,” he said as one of them approached.
The man grabbed Snowman’s reins just behind his bit and Jensen was off the horse and advancing on the guy in seconds.
“Don’t fucking touch my horse,” he growled, stepping up to the guy.
In a split second, he ducked as the man swung and, missing Jensen, hit Snowman in the jaw. There was no question what would happen next―Jensen lashed out with a jab that dropped the guy in the dust and left the second one ready to lunge. “Do it and I’ll lay you out too.”
“You talk big for a little boy,” the older guy spat.
“Little boy? I’ll be forty on my birthday, and I’m eight to ten inches taller than you and outweigh you by fifty pounds. You think you can take me, bring it on, small fry,” Jensen snarled, ready to finish the fight.
“There’ll be more of us, you can bet on that,” the man said, helping his buddy up. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”
“Not luck, asshole. Strength and agility. Next time you want to attack somebody, might want to make it somebody closer to your own age and size. And who I ride with is none of your god damn business, you hear me? You hit my horse again, any horse, and there won’t be enough of you left to say grace over at your funeral.
Get the hell out of my way.” Jensen mounted and, with a flourish of his reins, he powered Snowman past the two men and headed straight to the barn.
When he’d gotten the horse unsaddled, bridle off, and a halter on, he felt Snowman’s jaw.
It didn’t seem to be injured, but he decided he’d get the rodeo vet to look at it anyway.
He walked his four-legged work partner a bit, gave him a treat, and led him to his stall.
Then he took Cobra out, walked him a while, and led him back in.
With a flake of hay apiece delivered to their bins, he wandered back to the arena to see where he was in the lineup for his regular events.
He’d almost made it to the list outside the announcer’s booth when he heard voices in one of the ancillary hallways. “You let him hit you?” a familiar-sounding voice asked.
“Guy’s got a helluva swing,” another voice said, and he recognized it―the man he’d hit on his way out of the arena.
“I can’t believe that dumb sumbitch rode with her. And I can’t believe they did that well,” another voice said. By god, Jensen was proud!
“She’s a threat. You guys have to neutralize that threat. If she wins anything this weekend, it’ll just encourage more skirts to come in and out of here, and pretty soon, rodeo will be giving manicures and pink pickup trucks as prizes. We can’t have that,” the familiar voice in the group said.
“And what are you going to be doing while we’re all supposed to be ganging up on a girl?” the fighter’s voice asked.
“Oh, we’re working behind the scenes to make sure she doesn’t get a chance to bring all those ruffles and lace into this sport.”
“Meaning we’re the ones getting our hands dirty,” his other attacker said.
“You’re our front lines of defense,” that voice he should’ve been able to identify reinforced. “We’re depending on you.”
Jensen had heard all he needed to hear. After checking the list―he was three from the bottom―he went in search of one of the ring stewards. He found one of the guys he knew best, Harvey King, and told him about the whole incident.