Page 7 of Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek)

The crowd shouts so loud that we spin around to look at the screen.

My heart races as I read the time and my name next to the number one spot.

“The Rodeo Princess does it again, folks!” the emcee announces. “Ellie Donovan takes the lead with fifteen point nine five two!”

They gave me that nickname after winning every race I entered my first year competing at the pro rodeo events, which is also how I was able to upgrade my permit to a cardholder in less than a year.

I wrap my arms around Ranger’s neck. “Such a good boy.”

I’m lucky that we bond as well as we do. Most riders go through a handful of horses before they find their perfect barrel-racing horse.

My parents make their way toward me, jogging and flailing their arms in the air like they always do when they’re overly excited.

I’m an only child, so I getalltheir attention.

Sometimestoo much.

But I’m grateful for their support. If it weren’t for my mom pushing me to do an extracurricular activity after what happened to my cousin, who was like an older sister to me, I wouldn’t have joined a local 4-H Club and enrolled in their horse training program.

And who knows where I’d be if I hadn’t.

I started showing depressive episodes when I was thirteen. Mom wanted to keep my attention off the news and for me to put my energy and focus into something productive. Truthfully, it worked. I became addicted to the sport.

Hell, I’m still addicted to it.

A few years after I started and was outshining everyone in the juniors division, my parents gifted me Ranger for my sixteenth birthday. Most of my friends got cars or trucks for theirs, but I got him, which was even better. I’d been training on my 4-H leader’s horses, but I was ready to level up.

It was a game changer.

Ranger saved me. And I like to think we saved him, too. His previous owner neglected him and he got put up for auction. From the first time we met, he trusted me for some reason.

It’s like he knew I needed him as much as he needed me.

We invested time and money into getting him the proper care and training he needed and now he’s never been better.

“You did it, sweetheart!” Mom shouts.

Maybe.Easton still has to race.

He’s only been training for the past three years, but he’s good.

Just not as good as me.

We first met at a 4-H Club outing years ago and have been friends who talk about horses ever since.

I ride Ranger toward the waiting pen so Easton can take his turn. Holding out my hand, he gives me a high five as we pass each other.

“Damn, you popped the clutch on that entrance,” Easton calls out, referring to how fast Ranger sped through the alleyway. “And good save out there with the tipsy barrel.”

“Thanks! Good luck, E!” I shout as the distance between us grows wider.

When my parents reach us, they shower Ranger with love and tell him how amazing he did.

“Noah couldn’t take her eyes off y’all! She loved it and was cheerin’ along with us,” Mom gushes.

The corner of my lips curves up. “Really? That’s awesome!”

I was so amped up that I forgot Noah Hollis was in the crowd watching me.

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