Wade
My pulse thundered with excitement as I entered the Thomas and Mack Center for the start of the ten-day-long rodeo event. The smell of the pungent, wet dirt of the arena wafted through the air like a familiar perfume.
I stopped right outside the grandstands, closing my eyes and relishing the feeling of being back here after such a long hiatus. It was like being greeted by an old friend.
There were days I missed the rodeo: the adrenaline coursing through your system as you wait for your time to shine, the camaraderie, the thrill of a new buckle added to your stash, the drinking, smoking, and fucking.
It was an aphrodisiac. But that life was behind me, and I wouldn’t change things if I could. I was happy sitting beside the love of my life, watching one of my riders compete in the biggest event of their career and possibly their life.
Ray’s warm hand landed on my forearm, and I opened my eyes with an easy smile.
“You okay?” she asked softly, a concerned look brushing across her features. I took her hand gently in mine and squeezed three times as I pulled her toward me and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Yeah, Sunshine. Never better.” I breathed against her skin.
My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text, and I pulled it out, thumbing it open to read the message.
Sterling: br up 1. IC riding 3.
I laughed at his inability to type out a full sentence, but I knew exactly what he was trying to say.
“Barrel racers are up first. Izzy’s riding third,” I relayed to Ray as we scoured the crowd for the rest of our crew. Max and Stella had wandered off to check out some of the food vendors before the event started.
Ray’s arms wrapped around my waist as she settled herself into my embrace. I could feel the nervous energy radiating from her. It was one thing to experience the rodeo as a best friend. It was another thing to have a family member competing.
Even though barrel racing was generally safe compared to some of the other rodeo events, riders and their horses were still pushed to their limits as they raced for the best time.
Anything could go wrong at any minute, and I just hoped that at the end of the day, Izzy and Oakley had trained enough to score decently and come home unscathed.
“You nervous?” I asked, running my hands up and down Ray’s back.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I just worry. That’s my baby sister out there, and as much as I trust Oakley, I can’t help this gut feeling that something’s off.”
She shook her head as if she were being ridiculous, and I gripped her chin between my thumb and index finger, holding her attention.
“Do you want me to go down and check on her? I will if it will make you feel better,” I offered, genuinely concerned about anxiety radiating off her.
“No, I’m sure she’s fine. Sterling would have said something if she seemed off, right?”
“I’d hope so, but I’m not sure how close he’s willing to get to that spitfire right before an event, Sunshine. She’s pretty scary on a daily basis. Add in the stress and anxiety before the biggest rodeo of her career? I’d stay clear out of her way.”
Ray chuckled, standing on her tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to my lips. I snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her flush to my body, and deepened the kiss just a fraction.
Before things got too hot and heavy, I pulled back, placing another tender kiss to her plush lips. I could have spent the rest of my life with my lips on hers, but we had a rodeo to watch and a cowgirl to cheer on.
Spotting Max and Stella behind Ray, I spun her around and tapped her on the ass to head toward the stands. She turned her head over her shoulder and flashed me a wicked grin that screamed of all the dirty things we planned to do later.
I subtly adjusted myself in my jeans and groaned as she walked toward my brother and his wife, her Wranglers molding to her curves and thighs like they were specially made for her.
We all climbed the grandstand stairs and found our seats. The view from up there was magnificent. The arena floor was freshly raked, dirt spiraling around in even swirls. The barrels had been placed in their appropriate spots, each one labeled with the name of the business that sponsored it.
The crowd grew louder with excited chatter as the announcer instructed everyone to take their seats.
Ray’s hand found mine from her spot beside me. Her ability to read my emotions without my having to say a word was astounding.
We were anxious for different reasons, and we leaned on each other in silent support as riders and their horses took their places in order of turn.
Even from up high, I spotted Izzy immediately. She and Oakley were third in line, just as Sterling said. She sat stoically, zeroed in on her pre-race ritual, visualizing the cloverleaf pattern she and Oakley would run.
After the national anthem was played and everyone returned to their seats, the first racer shot out of the gate. A dappled mare with a short, stocky rider rounded each barrel, kicking up dirt behind them. They managed to time out at fifteen seconds, which wasn’t anything to write home about.
Back at the ranch’s makeshift arena, Izzy was consistently running high thirteens, on a slow day, a low fourteen. She was hoping for at least a high thirteen to place among the top three, carrying her through to the two other rounds.
She would race a total of three times that week, and the average of the three scores would determine who would take home the national championship.
The second rider narrowly missed one of the barrels, knocking it over with the edge of their stirrup. That would incur them a five-second penalty, which was a death sentence in a high-stakes event like this one.
Izzy was up next, and I watched closely as she entered the alley where she and Oakley would gain their momentum ahead of their turns.
Something was off. Oakley looked uncomfortable as she danced back and forth on her feet. Izzy ran her hand down her neck, trying to calm her, but Oakley wasn’t having it.
Thankfully, their time didn’t start until they crossed the start line, and Izzy was able to get Oakley zeroed in on her task. They shot out of the gate, and the clock started ticking. The crowd cheered as Izzy and Oakley took to their cloverleaf.
They rounded the first barrel with ease, Izzy’s body fluid as she used her heels to kick Oakley’s midsection, encouraging her to run faster.
As they rounded the second barrel, Oakley’s gait faltered, and Izzy didn’t have time to adjust for the shift as she slid to the side, falling out of the saddle and hitting the ground with a thud.
The arena went silent as we all watched with bated breath, waiting for Izzy to get up.
One second.
Two seconds.
She still didn’t stand. Ray gripped my shirt as she clung to me desperately, watching her little sister lie lifeless in the dirt. I met my brother’s eyes and gave him a subtle nod as I transferred Ray to his arms and raced down the stairs toward the arena.
“Stay with Max. I’ve got her,” I yelled behind me.
I could hear Ray’s wails as she fought against my brother’s grip, thrashing her body in an attempt to follow me.
The truth was, though, if Izzy didn’t get up, I didn’t want that to be the last vision Ray saw of her sister.
I knew she would be furious, but I’d rather that than the mental image of her sister’s dead body being played on repeat in her mind every single time she closed her eyes.