The Rodeo #4
“What good is that when everybody knows I’m no good at riding and roping?” Annabelle slapped the steering wheel. “I’m a failure.”
“You’re not a failure. You’re an incredibly talented person who just had a rough day. Nobody thinks Grandma Austin is a failure, and she never rode in the rodeo at all.”
“What?” Annabelle looked at Maria blankly. “Who told you that? Grandma’s a fantastic rider. Of course she’s been in the rodeo.”
Maria leaned toward her. “Nope. She told me this afternoon. She said she was terrified of competing.”
“I never knew that.” Annabelle stared at the road ahead. “Well, that was a long time ago. People’s rodeo stats weren’t up all over the internet, like mine will be after today.”
“Nobody remembers things like that,” Maria said. “I know it feels like it. But when was the last time you remembered somebody else’s rodeo stats?”
“Tim got an eighty-seven in saddle bronc riding,” Annabelle said gloomily.
“Today doesn’t count. Give it a week, and nobody will remember.”
“Scarlett will.”
Poor Annabelle, always focusing on what other people thought of her. She was beautiful and smart and had all the advantages in the world—why couldn’t she see her own value?
§
They got back and parked in the big garage attached to the ranch house. “I’m going to bed,” Annabelle said. “I don’t want to talk to anybody. Especially not Mom and Dad and Grandma. They can talk about my failure themselves.” She stamped off to the house.
Annabelle was probably right, all the conversation inside would be rehashing the rodeo.
It had been a long day, and Maria didn’t know that she felt like trying to interact with all her family members right now.
But she didn’t feel like going to bed yet, either.
She could hang out by the firepit in front of the house, on the big patio.
Dad had taught her how to light fires when she was growing up.
Maria fetched some firewood from the mudroom, with some old newspapers for kindling, and started a fire in the firepit.
The wind wasn’t strong, and soon the flames were licking at the wood.
Maria sat in a lawn chair, stretching her booted feet toward the fire.
The night was so pretty, with all the lovely night noises.
It wasn’t like riding around the ranch in the dark—she was right by the house, and she had her concealed-carry pistol. She’d be perfectly safe.
The ranch hands were arriving home. Maria couldn’t see the lower buildings in the dark, especially with the firelight in her face, but she could hear shouting as people unloaded trailers and moved stock back into barns.
Maria’s thoughts flitted over moments from the evening.
The rodeo—riding on the carousel with Tim—shooting like Annie Oakley—Tim holding her hand.
He hadn’t said a word about his feelings toward her tonight, other than inviting her on the midway, but his body language and his eyes had spoken for him.
It was too bad there was nobody to talk to about Tim. Well, Maria could tell Dad and Grandma about him, but there were some problems. For one thing, Tim was entrenched here at the ranch. And Maria still didn’t want to desert Dad and Grandma in Michigan.
Well, Maria had a few weeks left to figure these things out. She wouldn’t worry about it. For the moment, she would just appreciate the lovely night she’d had. It was too bad Annabelle had had such a rough time.
A horse’s hooves sounded on the pavement, and a dark figure rode up to the fire.
Although she was over the Montana Rider, Maria jumped. What was he doing here?
“I’m not disobeying what you told me,” Maria said, pulling her feet back and sitting up straight. “This doesn’t count as going around the ranch in the dark. I’m right by the house, and I’m armed.”
The Montana Rider smiled. He was far enough from the fire that his face, half hidden behind the black mask, was in shadow. “I see,” he said. “Well, be careful. Tim saw the man with the skull tattoo on his hand today at the rodeo.”
“He did?” Maria sat straighter. “And he didn’t tell me?”
The Montana Rider spread his hands in a conciliatory manner. “He didn’t want to spoil your time at the rodeo. But I thought I should mention it to you.”
So the Montana Rider knew about her and Tim hanging out at the rodeo.
Tim must have talked about it. It must have meant enough to him that he would tell the Montana Rider—so quickly, too.
Had he texted him? What were they, best chums?
And how had Tim noticed the skull tattoo?
Maria vaguely remembered lots of tattoos at the rodeo, but she hadn’t noticed any particular ones.
“Well, I wish he’d told me,” Maria said. “I could have helped keep an eye on the guy, whoever he is.”
The Montana Rider shook his head. “It’s too dangerous for you to get involved. The kind of guy who will sabotage a ranch is already taking a big risk. Who knows what other things he’ll do to get what he wants? Besides, he’s probably not working alone.”
“I guess you’re right,” Maria said. “Well, thanks. I’ll be careful.”
The Rider nodded. “Goodnight.” He rode away into the night.
It was funny—the feeling of mystery and romance that had been attached to the Montana Rider was gone, even though Maria still didn’t know who he was. That was probably just as well.
§
Maria was in her room, getting ready for bed, when someone tapped at the door. She opened it and found Annabelle in silk pajamas.
“Hey, Annabelle,” Maria said. “How are you doing?”
Annabelle didn’t look as upset as before, which was good.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, about Grandma,” she said.
“I always assumed she must have been really good. I mean, Dad competed in rodeos and stuff. So I figured it was a family tradition. But apparently when you’re Grandma’s age, it doesn’t matter whether you’re good at rodeo or not. ”
“That makes sense,” Maria said.
“Well, anyway,” Annabelle said, “I just thought it was interesting. And I’ve made a decision.
I’m not gonna fuss about the Miss Rodeo Montana thing.
I’m gonna find some other project. Grandma does all kinds of things in the community.
As long as we’re here on the ranch—and I’m pretty sure Grandma would never sell it—I might as well figure out what important stuff needs to be done around here and do it. ”
“Good for you,” Maria said. “That sounds great.” She was yawning. “I’m not bored, I promise. I’m just so tired, I’m about to fall asleep on my feet. I have to get up super early tomorrow.”
“Oh, sorry,” Annabelle said. “Yeah, I’m gonna be a wreck tomorrow. I think I bruised my hip clocking into something before the barrel racing. Anyway, goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Maria said.
She went to brush her teeth, only casting a short glance toward the window. Out there, somewhere, the Montana Rider was looking for the outlaws.