A Cowboy in the Streets (Lodestar Ranch Book 1)

Chapter 1

Maybe the pink cowboy boots were a mistake. Dad had strong feelings about those boots. But then, so did I. They were such a part of me that if I looked down and saw something else on my feet, I wouldn’t know who I was.

Dad bought me my first pair before I could walk, so I would look cute in the family photos. As my feet grew, he kept right on buying new pairs to fit. One of my earliest memories was Dad dancing with me in the kitchen while Mom cooked dinner, the pink cowboy boots on my feet.

“Pretty like your momma,” he told me.

A bald-faced lie because I looked nothing like Mom. She was tall and blonde, whereas I was short with dark hair and freckles. The only thing I got from my mom was her curves, which was less of an asset for a horse trainer like me than a rodeo queen like her. I kept those suckers locked down so tight I might as well have been an A-cup. Or a man.

Dad always beamed when he saw me wear my pink cowboy boots with a skirt for a school dance or a date. But those boots were made for riding, and riding was what I did. He never failed to side-eye my pink cowboy boots when I stepped foot in the barn or the training ring. Like they didn’t belong there.

Or maybe that was me who didn’t belong.

I looked down at my feet critically, taking note that the bright pink was a bit dulled from the grime and dust of the stables. Nothing a little saddle soap couldn’t take care of. They were riding boots, same as any black or brown pair. It would be a shame to waste them as pure decoration when they had a job to do. Anyway, I liked the dichotomy. Why couldn’t something be pretty and useful at the same time?

“Hey, sunshine!”

I pulled my gaze from my boots and smiled at the lead trainer of Blue Skies Farm, the training facility for ranch and rodeo horses owned by my dad, Carl Campos. “Hi, Walter. Chocolate chip cookies are in the breakroom.”

“That’s the way to my heart. Tell Savanah thank you.”

Walter winked, because he knew damn well that if my mom had made them, she had done so with my help. But he also knew that my dad frowned upon me, as assistant trainer, bringing sweets and baked goods to the mostly male ranch employees. They won’t respect you, Dad warned me over and over again. They’ll see you as nothing but a girl.

The thing was, though, I was a girl. A girl who happened to like cookies. Once I started bringing in treats, the others followed. Some stable hands and trainers baked the treats themselves, and some brought store-bought treats. Either way, everyone was happy.

“You going in there?” Walter jerked his thumb in the direction of Dad’s office.

“Yeah. We have a meeting in five minutes.” Impulsively, I reached out, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. Put retirement off a couple more years and stay with us.”

He gave a rueful chuckle. “It’s been a good twenty years, hasn’t it? I remember when you were barely this tall”—he held his hand waist-height—“bound and determined to ride horses men twice your size wouldn’t have touched. I still have a few good years left in me, but I want to spend them with my grandkids. It’s time for the next generation of trainers to take up the reins.”

It was bittersweet, Walter retiring after two decades with us at Blue Skies Farm. I would miss him for sure, but I couldn’t deny the frisson of excitement that shivered down my spine at the thought of making his position my own. I had so many ideas.

“Listen, James.” Walter grimaced, a furrow forming between his thick gray brows. “Carl wanted my thoughts on who should replace me. You were at the top of my list. I want you to know—”

“James!” Dad’s head poked out of his office. His gaze landed on my boots, and he shook his head. “Enough gabbing. Get in here.”

“Good luck,” Walter muttered. “We’re all rooting for you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, before high tailing it into Dad’s office. “Good morning, Carl,” I said, because he was never Dad at work, as I took my seat.

He sat across from me in the wood-paneled office, his immaculate oak desk between us. I took it as a good sign that he had called me in here for a chat rather than simply knock on my bedroom door or catch me over supper, which is what he had done six years ago, the first time he had passed me over for promotion—that time it had been from groom to trainer.

But here, this office, was his place of business. If he called me in here, it must mean that he was finally taking me seriously.

I had a good feeling about this.

Horses were in my blood. I was a colicky baby, and Mom swore the only way to soothe me was to strap me to her chest, saddle Redford, the gentlest, calmest horse at the stable, and go for a ride. Growing up, as Dad worked to expand the training facility into the large operation it was today, I spent every spare minute in the stables, shadowing my dad and the other trainers. No one knew this farm or the horses better than me.

But six years ago, being only twenty-two, Dad hadn’t thought that experience was enough to earn a promotion. It had hurt to hear him say that at the time, but he was right. So I left Blue Skies for quarter horse facilities in Texas and Oklahoma. I learned new techniques and gained exposure to new ideas, working my way up without the benefit—or detriment—of being the boss’s daughter.

A year ago, Dad called me home again, to take the position of assistant trainer. Of course I came straight away. I never said no to Dad.

Then last month, Walter announced he meant to retire to spend more time with his wife and grandchildren. I loved Walter—he had never shooed me away as a child, unlike so many other employees—but I knew an opportunity when I saw it. And this time, I was ready for it. More than ready. I was right for it.

“I have good news, James.” Dad settled back in his burgundy leather wingback chair and clasped his hands over his stomach. “I think you’re going to be very happy.”

Relief whooshed through me. Even though I knew I deserved this promotion, that I had earned it, a small part of me doubted he would actually give it to me. In the back of my mind was the niggling warning that he had never hired a woman before, for any position, other than his own daughter.

“Let’s hear it,” I encouraged, trying to walk the line between confident and smug.

“Remember when you said women’s rodeo events were on the rise, and Blue Skies should take advantage of that?”

I nodded. I had suggested Blue Skies hire a trainer specializing in women’s rodeo events. Dad hadn’t been interested.

“I’ve had some time to think it over and reconsidered. It could be a great opportunity for growth.”

“Really?” My thoughts galloped ahead, already making plans. As head trainer, I would be responsible for bringing the new trainer on board and ensuring the program’s success. My first challenge as head trainer for Blue Skies. I was practically giddy with excitement, but I swallowed my gleeful squeal. Dad didn’t approve of squealing, gleeful or otherwise. At least, not in the stables.

“It will take some time to get it off the ground, slow and steady. What do you think?”

I nodded slowly. “I think that’s great. Off the top of my head, I’d consider Allison Fields, Jessica Valdez, or Christy Sullivan as contenders for the position. Should I start making calls? Gauge their interest?”

Dad’s lips twitched. “That won’t be necessary. I already have someone in mind.”

“Oh.” I tamped down my disappointment. Dad was a control freak. I knew that. Convincing him to loosen the reins wasn’t going to be easy or quick. Still, I had thought he would at least want my opinion. “Who were you thinking?”

“You.” He grinned at me, as though he expected me to shout with joy. When I stared at him blankly, his brow furrowed. “I want you to oversee the new program focusing on women’s events.”

“Me?”

He nodded.

“Carl, I—” I looked around the room, my gaze moving across the various photographs of champion horses and rodeo events without really seeing anything at all. My brain whirled. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Sure, you can. Who better? You were the junior world championship barrel racer in your day.”

I smiled wryly. True, I had competed and won during my high school years. But my heart was in training, not competing, so I had given it up when I graduated rather than going pro, much to the disappointment of both my parents. “What I mean is that—”

“And you have some experience as a trainer, too. I have full confidence that you will make this program a success.”

Some experience. Twenty-eight years of working with horses, six of them as a trainer. “Thanks,” I said dryly.

Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. I would be great at the new position. But I had my ambitions set higher than that, and there was no way I could do both at the same time.

“I’m flattered, but realistically, I can’t oversee the startup of a new program while fully committing to my duties as head trainer. It’s just not possible. There aren’t enough hours in the day.”

“James.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve decided to go in a different direction. Eli Stanford will be taking Walter’s place as lead trainer.”

I must have heard wrong. The room was so quiet all I could hear was the distant sounds of horses neighing. I wasn’t breathing, I realized, and inhaled sharply to rectify that. “What?”

“Eli Stanford. He starts Monday. You’ve met him before, remember? At that rodeo in Oklahoma.”

“I remember.”

“He’s got experience under his belt. Knows what it takes to compete. To win. He’s been working under Harrison at Silver Stables in Idaho, so he knows his stuff. Good guy.”

All true. But—

“Eli is great, but he’s not more experienced than me. He’s what? Two years older? He didn’t even start at the rodeo until he was fourteen, if I recall. And I know for sure he didn’t grow up on a horse farm like I did. He told me so.”

My hands were shaking. I clasped them together, pinching myself in the muscle between my index finger and thumb, a trick I learned a long time ago to keep tears at bay. An important skill, because the moment water leaked from my eyes was the moment Dad would stop listening. You can’t be reasonable and emotional at the same time, he was fond of saying. I saw his point, but I wondered if maybe sometimes it was reasonable to be emotional. Like now.

“My record as a trainer these past six years is top-notch. Three of the top ten reining horses in the country? I trained them. Lucky Thirteen, the world reserve champion? That was me. I’m not just good at what I do, Carl. I’m great. And there is no one, except maybe you, who loves Blue Skies more than me. I would dedicate my life to this farm if you would let me.”

Dad’s brows pushed together in a dark line across his forehead. “To be honest, James, I thought you’d be pleased. Of course I knew you wanted to be head trainer. The new position, suited to your particular skill set, seemed like the perfect solution.”

Solution. The word slid into my heart like a hot knife through butter. “I didn’t realize I was a problem,” I said softly.

“Now, James, listen to me. This isn’t personal. Make no mistake, I’ve seen how hard you work, and I’m impressed. Never think that I’m not. But head trainer is more than just training horses. It’s leading other trainers. It’s having a vision. It’s making tough choices.”

“I can do that,” I said. “I know I can. Eli Stanford hasn’t trained a single reining horse to make it in the top ten. He will, someday. He’s good. But not as good as me.”

“You don’t have what it takes,” Dad said flatly.

“You mean I don’t have a penis.” The words were out, dripping with disgust and disappointment, before I could bite my tongue.

Dad frowned. “Don’t be crass, James. It’s not ladylike.”

I forced myself to hold his gaze, letting him know without a word that his dodge of my accusation had not gone unnoticed. We stayed that way for a long moment, anger crackling between us like a live wire.

He blinked first. “Take the weekend to think it over. Cool off. Be ready to get to work on Monday.”

I shook my head. I didn’t need the weekend. “Thank you for your offer, but I decline.”

“James, for god’s sake.” Dad rolled his eyes, exasperated. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too hotheaded to take the reins of our entire program. You’re making a decision in the heat of anger when you’re all emotional. Be reasonable. Blue Skies is your home. Where are you going to go?”

Hotheaded. Emotional. It wasn’t the first time he had called me that. And maybe he was right, in a way. I definitely felt things, and I acted on those feelings. But just because I let emotions guide me didn’t make my decisions wrong.

“I don’t know.” Like that was going to stop me. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that someone will be thrilled to have me.”

If I wasn’t appreciated here, then it was time to go where I was.