Page 7 of Bucked By Love

I ride Calypso back to the stables. I can barely hear the applause over the pound of my heart roaring in my ears.

Daddy is waiting for me in the stables.

My throat goes tight with fear.

I bring Calypso to a halt, swing my leg over, and hop off. My cheeks feel flushed. “What did you think, Daddy?” Nothing. “Daddy?”

He won’t even look at me. His gray eyes are staring off over my head. “Wait here,” he says. He walks off, and I watch as he goes to speak with one of the judges.

My throat is tight, so tight. I can’t breathe. Blood rushing, pounding.

I did something wrong. But what?

I go through each play in my head. Each routine.

There were no hiccups. No missteps.

Were there…?

I’m shaking. I tie Calypso up, tear off my helmet, and pace. It’s hot outside the stables and the sun beats down on me, but I gasp for air.

A rider rushes past me, their horse kicking up dust. I choke as it clogs my vision.

I need to get out of here.

My feet start moving. Away from the stables, just…away.

I find myself walking towards the main building. There’s a podium here, swathed with local newscasters. They’re calling the winners from the roping division. Just in time.

The judge is Mr. Davenport from the Belleflower Benefactors Society. His teeth are blindingly white when he flashes a wide smile.

“And this year’s Junior Roper is…” He peels back the envelope and announces: “Loren Dagney!”

My heart nearly stops in my chest. What?

Loren leaps onto the stage and shakes the judges hand, a smug smirk climbing his face. The judge presents him with the winning belt buckle—a shiny, coveted object. The crowd breaks into a round of eager applause. All except one.

“Horse shit!”

The word sails out overtop the noise of the crowd.

Mrs. Ransom comes barreling out of the audience. She launches herself towards the judge and he goes skittering backwards, nearly losing his balance, catching himself at only the last second. She jabs her finger against his chest.

“My boy won! Fair and square!”

Riley comes scrambling up after her. Gently, he grabs his mother, guiding her back.

“Mama! It’s okay. Leave it.”

She spits. It leaves a nasty, wet mark on the polished stage.

“That boy couldn’t rope a bolder! You’re a bunch a’ nasty crooks! The lot of you!”

“Mama. C’mon now.”

It takes some coaxing, but Riley eventually gets his mother off the stage. The crowd murmurs awkwardly as the family hobbles off.

The whole incident leaves me with a sick, acid burn in my stomach.

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