Page 2 of A Cowboy in the Streets

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.”

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