Chapter 12 #2
Perfect weather for a fall rodeo. Perfect weather for watching her son compete while his father cheered from the stands.
So why did she feel like she should be looking over her shoulder, waiting for life to scurry up and take it all away from her?
Sierra guided the horse trailer into the back parking area of the fairgrounds, gravel crunching under her tires as she navigated between rows of gleaming aluminum trailers and pickup trucks.
The staging area buzzed with controlled chaos—kids practicing their runs, parents offering last-minute advice, horses snorting and stamping in the crisp air.
The distant sound of the announcer’s voice carried across the lot, welcoming families to the Renegade County Fall Festival Rodeo.
“Easy, boy.” Sierra patted Jasper’s neck as she backed him out of the trailer. The old paint horse stepped down carefully. At twenty-three, Jasper had seen plenty of rodeos, but his ears swiveled attentively as he cataloged the familiar sounds of competition day.
“Mom, I can handle him.” Huck appeared at her elbow, his competition number pinned to his shirt and his chaps buckled to perfection.
His hat sat at exactly the right angle, and his boots gleamed from the polish he’d applied that morning.
Everything about him radiated preparation and confidence, though Sierra caught the nervous energy in the way his hands moved—adjusting his rope, checking his gloves, straightening his number.
“I know you can.” Sierra handed him Jasper’s lead rope, her chest warming with pride at how natural he looked with the horse. “Just remember what Rowan taught you about staying relaxed. Jasper picks up on your energy.”
Huck’s face lit up at the mention of Rowan’s name. “Do you think Mr. R will really make it? I mean, I know he said he would, but…”
“He’ll be here,” Sierra said, trying to believe her words. Please, Rowan, don’t let us down. “Wild horses couldn’t keep him away from watching you compete.”
“I…um…” Huck started, then stopped, color creeping up his neck.
“What?”
“I was thinking…maybe can I…can I call him Dad?”
Oh. Oh.
She knelt in front of him. “Do you want to?”
He nodded, but his eyes filled.
She reached out to adjust his hat, using the gesture to buy herself a moment. “You can call him whatever feels right to you. But yes, he’s your dad, and I think he’d love to hear you say it.”
He looked away, then back to her, his blue eyes earnest in hers. “What if I mess up my run? What if I’m not as good as he was?”
Clearly Huck was all about breaking her heart today.
She stood. “You want to know a secret about your dad?” Sierra guided Jasper toward the warm-up area, Huck walking beside her.
“He wasn’t just county champion three years running.
He was state champion twice. And you know what?
He told me you’re already better at ten than he was. ”
Huck’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Really. He said you’ve got natural talent and good instincts. The rest is just practice and confidence.” Sierra squeezed his shoulder. “And you’ve got plenty of both.”
He grinned, and her heart simply split wide apart. She pulled him close. “I’m so proud of you.”
He wiggled away. “I gotta warm up, Mom.”
She laughed. “Yep.” They spent the next twenty minutes working Jasper through his paces, letting the old horse remember his job while Huck settled into the rhythm of competition preparation.
Other kids moved through similar routines around them, the air filled with encouraging words from parents and the occasional whicker from horses recognizing friends.
“Riders for the ten-and-under tie-down roping should start heading to the staging area.” The announcer’s voice crackled across the parking lot. “We’ll begin competition in approximately thirty minutes.”
Huck dismounted to lead Jasper into the staging area.
Sierra pulled out her phone, checking for messages from Rowan. Nothing since his text two hours ago saying he’d be there soon. She typed quickly.
Sierra
Huck’s asking for you. Competition starts in 30. Where are you?
“Mom, I think I’m ready.” Huck looked up at her with the kind of determination that reminded her so much of Rowan it made her chest tight. “I got this.”
“You absolutely do.” Sierra gave him a quick hug, breathing in the scent of sunshine and confidence that clung to her son. “Go show them what a Blackwood can do.”
“A Blackwood-Wallace,” Huck corrected with a grin.
“Even better.”
She watched him lead Jasper toward the staging area, her heart swelling. How she’d survive this day, she didn’t know. Too much joy, really, for a woman who’d lost everyone.
And yet still found her happy ending.
Sierra made her way toward the arena, weaving between families claiming spots on the metal bleachers.
The afternoon sun caught the dust kicked up by horses in the arena, creating golden clouds in the air.
Vendors hawked popcorn and cotton candy, their calls mixing with the sounds of excited children and neighing horses.
She spotted Bailey Sinclair halfway up the bleachers, waving like a crazy person. “Sierra!”
Sierra climbed toward her best friend, dodging families with coolers and bleacher chairs, apologizing for stepping on toes and squeezing past knees.
“Finally.” Bailey shifted over to make room. “I thought you’d never get here. How’s our boy doing?”
“Confident. Nervous. Ready.” Sierra settled beside Bailey, scanning the arena where younger kids were finishing their events. “And asking if he can call Rowan ‘Dad.’”
“Oh my gosh.” Bailey clutched Sierra’s arm. “Wait. Rowan knows?”
“Yep.”
“How did that go?”
Sierra heated despite the afternoon breeze. “Better than I ever dared hope. He was shocked, of course, and maybe a little angry, but…Oh, Bailey, the way he looks at Huck…” She shook her head. “It’s like he’s been waiting his whole life to be a father.”
“And Huck knows.”
“Yeah. He found out last night. It was…well, let’s say dramatic. But yeah, he knows.”
“That’s huge. How are you handling it?”
“Honestly? I’m thrilled. Terrified, but thrilled.” Sierra pulled out her phone again, checking for new messages. Still nothing. “It feels like everything’s finally falling into place.”
“Speaking of falling into place”—Bailey’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper—“how are things between you two? Please tell me you’re not just coparenting.”
“We’re figuring it out.” Sierra’s smile grew wider despite her attempt to stay casual. “But no, we’re definitely not just coparenting.”
“Sierra Blackwood, are you blushing?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, this is so good!” Bailey grinned. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve this.”
“It feels too good to be true sometimes,” Sierra said, checking her phone again. “Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Stop that right now. Some people get their happy endings, and you’re one of them,” Bailey said. “Rowan came back, he wants to be a father, and he clearly adores you. Accept the blessing and stop looking for problems.”
The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re ready to begin our ten-and-under tie-down roping competition. These young cowboys have been practicing all year, and they’re excited to show you what they can do.”
Sierra’s attention shifted to the staging area, looking for Huck.
She didn’t see him, but the place was cluttered with animals and contestants.
“Oh, I meant to ask,” Bailey said, leaning closer to be heard over the crowd noise. “I heard something at the grocery store about Morrie getting hurt. What happened?”
Sierra’s stomach dropped. She’d been so focused on the rodeo and Rowan’s investigation that she hadn’t thought about how quickly news traveled here.
“He had an accident yesterday,” she said, cutting her voice low. “He’s in the hospital, but the doctors think he’ll be okay.”
“That’s terrible. What happened?”
“I don’t know all the details.” Okay, sort of a lie, but the last thing she wanted was to stir up fear. “Rowan and Mike are looking into it.”
Sierra typed another text to Rowan.
Sierra
Seriously, where are you? Huck’s event is starting.
“First up, we have contestant number twenty-three, Gunnar St. Claire, riding Thor…”
Sierra watched as a boy about Huck’s age guided his horse into the arena. The crowd quieted as Gunnar positioned himself, rope ready, concentration written across his young face. When the calf was released, Gunnar’s throw was clean and fast, his dismount smooth, his tie efficient.
“Nice run, Gunnar!” the announcer called as the boy waved to the crowd. “That’s going to be hard to beat.”
Three more contestants followed, each with varying degrees of success. Sierra found herself analyzing their techniques, noting things Huck did better, places where he could improve. She checked her phone for an answer.
None.
“Next up, contestant number thirty-five, Eli Martinez, riding Cisco…”
Sierra’s attention was divided between the arena and her phone.
Sierra
Are you okay?
She tucked the phone away.
“And now, contestant number forty-one, Sarah Beth Collins, riding Buttercup…”
The girl’s run was flawless, her tiny frame handling the large calf with impressive skill. The crowd erupted in applause, and Sierra found herself clapping along while her eyes stayed glued to her phone.
Nothing.
“Our next contestant is number forty-seven, Huck Blackwood, riding Jasper…”
Sierra’s head snapped up, her heart leaping. She scanned the arena entrance, waiting for Huck and Jasper to appear.
The entrance stayed empty.
“Number forty-seven, Huck Blackwood,” the announcer repeated.
Sierra stood up, craning her neck to see the staging area. Where was he? Had he gotten nervous? Backed out at the last minute?
“We’ll give number forty-seven another moment,” the announcer said. “Sometimes these young cowboys need a minute to get ready.”
But the entrance remained empty.
“All right, we’ll move on to our next contestant. Number fifty-two, David Harrison, riding Blaze…”
Sierra’s blood turned cold. They’d skipped Huck.
“Bailey, I have to go check on Huck,” Sierra said, her voice tight.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just got nervous.”
“No, you don’t understand. Huck was so excited.” Sierra was already moving, pushing past knees and muttering apologies as she worked her way down the bleachers. Bailey followed her. “Something’s wrong.”
She half walked, half ran to the staging area. Maybe Jasper had gone lame, maybe Huck had gotten sick, maybe, yes, he’d just lost his nerve at the last moment.
“Has anyone seen Huck Blackwood?” she called to the group of parents and officials clustered near the entrance of the staging area.
“He was here fifteen minutes ago,” one of the officials replied. “Seemed ready to go. Then when we called his name, nobody could find him.”
Sierra’s chest tightened. “What about his horse?”
“That’s the strange thing. The horse is gone too.”
She turned to Bailey. “Keep looking.”
Then she pushed through the crowd toward the back parking area, her boots crunching on gravel as she moved between trailers and trucks. Maybe Huck had taken Jasper back here for some reason. Maybe he’d needed more warm-up time, or maybe Jasper had spooked and he’d had to calm him down.
But as she rounded the corner toward where she’d parked her trailer, her blood turned cold.
Jasper stood near a cluster of trucks, his reins trailing in the dirt, saddle still on but his rider nowhere to be seen. The old horse looked confused, his muscles rippling, and he nickered when he saw Sierra approach.
“Huck?” Sierra called, her voice echoing off the aluminum trailers. “Huck, where are you?”
No answer.
She grabbed Jasper’s reins, her hands shaking as she checked him over. No signs of injury, no indication that he’d thrown his rider. He just stood there, patient and confused, waiting for someone to tell him what to do next.
“Huck!” Sierra’s voice rose, carrying across the parking lot. “This isn’t funny! Where are you?”
But only the wind answered, carrying the distant sounds of the rodeo.
That’s when she saw it.
Huck’s hat lay in the dirt beside her truck, its perfect shape crushed and dusty, the chin strap broken as if it had been yanked off his head.
She stared at the hat, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing. Huck would never leave his hat. Would never abandon Jasper. Would never miss his competition unless…
Unless someone had made him.
She snatched up the phone, her hands shaking so badly she could barely dial Rowan’s number.
“Come on, come on, pick up,” she whispered, pressing the phone to her ear.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
Voicemail.
“Rowan, something’s wrong,” she said, her voice breaking. “Huck’s missing. His horse is loose and…please call me back. Please.”
She ended the call and tried again, panic rising in her throat like bile.
The sound of a vehicle approaching made her look up. A white van was pulling into the parking area, driving slowly between the rows of trailers. Sierra barely registered it as she hit redial on her phone.
Still no answer.
The van pulled up beside her truck and stopped. The side door slid open.
“Mom?”
The voice was weak, scared, but unmistakably Huck’s.
Sierra pocketed the phone and spun toward the van, running. “Huck? What—”
Strong hands grabbed her arms, and a man yanked her toward the open van door. She fought, kicking and clawing, but another man appeared, dragging her into the vehicle’s dark interior.
A hood dropped over her head, cutting off her vision and muffling her screams.
“Mom?!” Huck screamed. “Mom!”
The van door slammed shut, and the engine roared to life.
And all she could think, as the van drove away, was that she’d been right to worry about the other shoe dropping.
She just hadn’t imagined it would land quite this hard.