Page 5 of Bucked By Love

CLAIRE

Aside from church, there was one other occasion when we were forced to intermingle with the Sooters.

The Belleflower Summer Fair is the biggest events of the year, save the Fall Coronation. It’s open to people of all walks of life. The Equestrian Club gets redecorated with fairground games, rodeos, and other competitive sports.

For us, the draw is the Junior Riders Competitions.

I’m a show rider. I’ve won blue three years in a row. Now that I’ve hit first-place, I can’t get anything less.

We don’t look back, Daddy says. Only forward.

Most importantly, I know the Belleflower Benefactors Society is watching.

I’m young, yet, but they’ll be scouting for Promises. Young women who show potential to be the Belleflower Queen in the coming years.

And there is nothing—nothing—more important to me than that precious Belleflower Queen crown.

Sweat gathers under my arms and dampens my dress shirt. The thick, navy jacket hides the stains. Calypso’s hair is twisted into beautiful, small braids, and even though her coat is shiny, I give her neck a few passes with the brush to keep her calm in the chaos of the festival. The crowd doesn’t seem to bother her, though; if anything, she’s curious, craning her head this way and that when trainers walk their horses in and out of the stable.

I know I’m supposed to stay close, but…the thickness of the smell in here and the heat is making me nauseous. I brave a short walk out of the stable.

A couple feet away, they’re running the breakaway roping competition. A small crowd is settled on the bleachers to watch the junior ropers lasso runaway calves. I creep closer to the bleachers to watch on.

Over the megaphone, the announcer says: “Here we go! The one, the only…Loooooren Dagney!”

Loren struts forward on his dark horse with a cocky grin. Of course, they’re going to give Loren a grand entrance. His father—and mine—are major sponsors.

He’s wearing a crisp polo and a shiny belt buckle. I watch as he gives the ranch hand a quick nod and they release the calf. The calf goes shooting out, running as fast as it’s little legs will carry it. Loren chases after it, his horse’s hooves pounding the ground. He whips his lasso in the air…but it falls short.

An ugly sneer stamps its way across Loren’s face. He kicks his horse in the flank and it jerks its head before spinning back around to the entrance.

He gives it another pass and, this time, he hooks it. The rope goes tight around the calf and, the second there’s tension, it breaks away, trailing limply behind the animal.

Loren turns his horse back to the stable, but there’s no joy in his face. He scowls all the way back to the stables, as though the calf personally offended him.

“Up next for the junior division, Riley Ransom!”

My heart does a strange tug and twist in my chest, like it’s a calf tangled in its own breakaway rope. There he is. My braid-buddy. He looks different outside of his church clothes. He’s wearing dusty jeans and a red plaid shirt. I watch as he pats his horse and murmurs something in her ear. She flicks her ear as though to say, message received.

Riley holds the lasso loosely in his hand. He gives the ranch hand a nod and, once again, the calf bolts out.

Riley wields the lasso as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. He swings a perfect loop and, immediately, it catches around the young calves neck. The animal scurries forward and the rope breaks free from Riley’s hold, trailing safely behind.

“Yeah!” A man and woman jump up from their seats, punching their fists in the air.

“That’s my boy!” the woman hollers.

They’re loud, messy, and when she raises her plastic cup, beer sloshes on the people sitting in front of him.

I can’t help but blush for Riley.

How embarrassing.

But he’s being a good sport about it, smiling—this wide, proud grin—as he circles the horse back to the stables to the tune of applause.

I duck behind the bleachers and follow into the stables. When I get there, Riley has already dismounted his horse. He’s cooing to her, calling her a good girl.

Sweat chases down my spine. I’m grateful the jacket hides it.

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