Chapter 11 Sierra
CHAPTER ELEVEN
sierra
We filed a police report in Billings for the tampered saddle, but we hadn’t received any news by the end of the rodeo weekend. There were no witnesses, so there were no leads. The only fingerprints that were found on the saddle were mine and Hayden’s, so that was a bust, too.
There was no time to dwell on it, though.
The county fair and rodeo in Miles City was this weekend, so the only thing on my mind was another barrel race.
This one was at least local, so we didn’t have to do a lot of driving.
Looking forward, though, we had a lot of miles ahead of us.
In a couple weeks, we’d be traveling all the way to Oregon for the Pendleton Roundup, then we’d turn around and drive to North Dakota.
That would end our long stretch of competitions until mid-October, when we’d go back to Billings for the last big rodeo of the season.
My first order of business was fixing the saddle. It was returned to me by the time we left Billings, so at least I didn’t have to shell out money for a replacement. Not to mention the time it would take to break in a new one.
Unfortunately, I still didn’t have my pickup back, but Hayden had offered to either drive me into town or let me use his.
I, selfishly, opted for driving myself. I left Pancho at the house with Hayden, figuring he could keep himself entertained. He’d taken well to Hayden in the short time we’d been staying with him.
The roads were quiet, which was surprising at this time of day.
I would have thought more people would be out and about given it was mid-afternoon on a weekday, but Silver Creek and Miles City weren’t large in population by any means.
I appreciated that, though. I preferred a slower pace of life to the hustle and bustle of a larger city or even just a larger town like Goldfinch.
In the five years that I’d been away, I spent a lot of time in small towns—for rodeos and just exploring, seeing the world like I’d always promised myself I’d do.
My favorite was a sleepy little town nestled in the mountains of Colorado.
While it had the classic small town charm, the people weren’t nosy like the typical stereotype.
They were friendly, of course, but they respected the privacy of their residents.
If juicy gossip was what you were looking for, Cedar Bluffs was the wrong place to be, which was perfect for me.
It wasn’t like my name was huge—I was by no means a celebrity-level rodeo athlete like Colter Carson, Reid Lawson, or Mikey Tucker—but if anyone were to look me up, the articles associated with my last name weren’t the most sparkling.
What happened had nothing to do with me, but family reputations tended to follow a person around.
After the…incident…I left Goldfinch for a while.
I had to come back to testify a few times, but after the case was over, I never wanted to set foot back in Montana again.
I did once, and that was the nail in the coffin for me.
After that, I changed my phone number and truly started over, setting my sights on being anywhere but my home state.
At least until I entered into the WRCA and my schedule brought me back.
I hadn’t spoken to my mother in six years.
She made her choices, and I made mine, but our lives weren’t connected anymore.
I hoped she was able to find peace, but I couldn’t look her in the eyes after what she allowed to happen, even after I begged and cried.
Because by the time she finally decided to take a stand, it was too late, and our lives were forever changed.
I turned onto the main road in Miles City, pulling myself out of my well of thoughts. If I treaded through them too much, I was sure to drown, and I needed to keep my head above water.
The bells on the front door of the saddle shop chimed as I walked in. The smell of leather and oils hit my nostrils, and a girl with dark hair popped her head around the register to greet me.
“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with today?”
I stepped up to the counter. “I’m looking to get a saddle repaired. It’s in my vehicle, but I can go grab it. How long would something like that take?”
“Hmm…” She typed a few things on the computer. “We can have it done for you in a couple days. Does that work?”
“That’ll be great. Thank you.”
I brought the saddle inside, exchanging it with the girl working. She gave me a quote on what the repair would cost then collected my phone number and email address for invoicing and updates.
“Thank you so much, Sierra. We’ll keep you updated.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you. Have a good one.”
She waved as I headed toward the front door. Before I could stop myself, the bells jingled, and I ran into a solid chest.
“S-sorry.” I took a step back, throwing out a quick apology to whoever I’d run into.
“Oh, hey, Sierra.”
Reid Lawson.
“Hi. What are you up to today?” I put my hands in my back pockets.
Reid ran a hand through his hair before clearing his throat. “Had to come pick up a saddle. You leave Hayden at home?” he joked, and it immediately lightened the mood.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I’m not really doing anything exciting, and I left Pancho with him. Some days I think the dog likes him more than he likes me.”
“Hayden tends to have that effect.”
You have no idea.
A moment of quiet passed between us before Reid said, “I don’t know if it’s something you’d be interested in, but I have a practice arena if you want to use it. We all have days where we just hang out and get some runs in. We can get some barrels to set up, no problem.”
I raised my brows. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Reid.”
“It’s nothing.” He waved me off. “Any friend of Hayden’s is a friend of ours.”
“I appreciate that. Well…” I started to head out the door, but Reid started speaking again.
“You know, Hayden doesn’t talk very much—even less about his personal life and girls—but I’d always had a feeling there was someone special to him.
We were on the rodeo team together in Goldfinch, and even when we reconnected after college he never…
anyway, I’m glad he has you. And if you need anything at all, just let one of us know. We’re all family around here.”
I wasn’t sure what to say; I was so caught off guard. Instead of fighting to find words, I just nodded in acknowledgment. Then I rushed out the door, shaking my head, trying to wrap my brain around what that all meant.
Instead of heading back to Hayden’s right away, I drove around town, running some quick errands and familiarizing myself with the town.
I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to map out Miles City yet, something I always made an effort to do in an unfamiliar place.
It made me feel more comfortable when I knew where I was going and had an exit strategy.
After looping around town a few times, I went to the farm and ranch supply store to pick up some feed for the horses and dog food for Pancho as well as the convenience store to get more hair dye—my roots were starting to show, which, unfortunately as a natural blonde, made me look bald—then headed back to the house, driving a little slower than normal to decompress.
“Hey, how was your day?” Hayden asked over the music filtering in from the kitchen speaker as I walked through the front door.
I placed my boots on the mat and headed through the living area into the kitchen. Hayden was busy making dinner, flitting from the counter to the stove and then back. “It was…good?”
“Good to hear. Did you get your saddle fixed?”
I nodded as I leaned my elbows on the bar top side of the counter he was working at, looking at him through the kitchen passthrough. “What are you making?”
I knew what it was from the smell filling the kitchen alone, but I wanted to hear it from him.
He reached into the cabinet above the counter, pulling out various spices and seasonings. “Chicken and dumplings. Wanna help?”
“Yeah. What do you want me to do?”
He smirked, the corners of his mouth crinkling. “Is that even a question?”
I rolled my eyes, heading around the half wall to wash my hands. “Just thought I’d ask. Didn’t know if you wanted to change it up.”
“Old habits die hard, Skip.”
He’d already started to cook the chicken, but the vegetables still needed to be cut and the soup hadn’t been started yet.
Hayden was always better at making the dumplings, so it made sense that he’d start there.
Part of me thought he was waiting for me, knowing that I’d want to help, just like old times in the Watkins family house with Mae.
I started chopping carrots, and the two of us fell into a comfortable silence as we worked. Soon the only noise in the house came from the sound of vegetables snapping and George Jones’s serenading voice playing through the speakers.
I began cutting an onion as the butter in the pot started to melt, and Hayden started humming behind me. Taking a sneaky peek at him, I watched as he swayed his hips to the music and had to pull my bottom lip between my teeth to suppress a laugh.
As though he could sense me watching him, he glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling up into a grin.
“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” I teased.
He laughed, the sound bubbling over. “Bullshit. I’ve always been a great dancer.”
My cheeks heated. “I suppose you’re right.”
Setting down whatever he was working on, he walked over to me, carefully taking the knife out of my hand and setting it on the cutting board.
“Come on. Dance with me.” He placed one of my hands on his shoulder as he set his on my waist, then laced our fingers together with his other hand.
The song had changed to Chris Stapleton’s cover of “Tennessee Whiskey,” and Hayden’s hand on my waist tapped to the beat as he spun us around the kitchen.
For a moment, it was like we were kids again, without a care or worry in the world.
We were still best friends, and neither one of us had left.
Neither one of us had broken the other’s heart—I hadn’t broken his heart yet.
I didn’t know how he could forgive me. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I were him. And as much as I wanted him back—wanted to try again—I couldn’t.
“Hayden,” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Friends…friends don’t do this kind of thing.”
His eyes gleamed, like he was hurting on the inside but trying to put on a brave face. “We’ve never been just friends, though, have we?”
Before I could answer, the smell of burning butter hit my nostrils.
“Oh, shit!” I pulled away from Hayden, breaking us apart, to run over to the stove.
Laughing, we both looked at the damage in the pot.
“What a waste of butter,” I sighed.
Hayden shrugged. “It was worth it to dance with you one more time.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, awkwardly shifting on my feet. “I’m gonna start over on this. You should get the dumplings finished.”
Falling back into silence—this time with tension in the air—we finished cooking the meal.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. Maybe I should have held my tongue. This wasn’t what Mae had taught us, cooking silently instead of in a kitchen filled with laughter and love pouring out.
But I couldn’t change the past, a fact that haunted me every day.
We each plated our own food, sitting across from each other at the dining table.
“Thank you for helping.” Hayden smiled, although it was a bit sad.
I poked my fork around my plate. “Of course.”
He nodded, digging in, so I followed suit. Even with a single bite, the flavors bursting on my tongue were able to bring the childhood memories flooding back.