Page 118 of Relentless

“Guess it’s going to be that kind of night.”

Oakleigh looked around to see if there were familiar faces she recognized. Her eyes landed on Sam, their grumpy neighbor. His wrinkled, sun-weathered face wore his typical scowl as he sipped on a cold beer. “We’re surrounded,” she whispered. “Since when isSamallowed in this section?”

Despite Sam’s age, the man had excellent hearing. “Since forever,” he barked. “I told you Callaways, you weren’t the only competition in town,” he announced. “Stetson Kennedy is riding for me.”

“You don’t say?” Maeve replied. Her tone was one Oakleigh knew well, and used when attempting to pacify and de-escalatetensions with Sam. “I haven’t seen Stetson in some time,” she commented. “Have you, Oakleigh?”

“Last I saw was his tail lights,” Oakleigh smirked, “when he was too much of a coward to ride Big Slim.”

“Always a smart comment with you,” he fumed.

Harper turned her head at Sam’s rising tone. “And what’s his problem?” she asked.

Maeve cleared her throat. “No problem at all — right, Oakleigh?”

“No problem,” Oakleigh repeated, quite unconvincingly.She knew Maeve was intent on keeping the fragile peace, and throwing Harper’s hot temper into the mix was the last thing they needed.

“Why don’t you take your mom down to check on the bulls?” Maeve suggested as though she could sense the inevitable escalation brewing.

“I’m sure she doesn’t care about that,” Oakleigh scoffed before noticing the unmistakable glance from Maeve that told her it wasn’t a suggestion at all. “Sure thing,” she pivoted.

“Oakleigh’s right,” Harper confirmed. “I’ve seen enough cows for my lifetime.”

“Let’s go, Mom,” Oakleigh insisted, pushing off the iron rail. To her relief, Harper didn’t dig her heels in on the issue.

Oakleigh led the way past the soft leather couches that held hefty ranch owners discussing rodeo business, and complaining about things they couldn’t control in drawling country slang. Her boots clanked down the metal staircase to where themassive bulls shuffled around in their pens. The area was dimly lit, and the air was dank, smelling strongly of barn animals.

There was a flurry of activity while the production crew made last-minute preparations for the event, which would be broadcast nationwide on the sports channel. The riders were hyper-focused on their pre-riding routines. Some were giving interviews, while others were applying a last coat of rosin to their gloves and ropes. The intense competition between them gave no indication that the event was only for charity.

“If you see production crew coming,” Oakleigh instructed. “Step aside and let them pass.” She glanced back at her mom to see if she understood.

Right on cue, the production team whisked past them, unfurling a bundle of cords and wires. Harper tucked in close to make room in the tight quarters.

“Feels like backstage at Pacific Crest, doesn’t it?”

The nostalgic observation caught Oakleigh by surprise. Although she rarely made it on time for service, the large event did have a similar energy to the family’s megachurch.

“Yeah, I guess it does,” Oakleigh replied.

Harper took a long breath as if the topic was a touch too raw. “So show me these big scary bulls you all keep going on about,” she pivoted, her tone bouncing high as though she were straining to keep it light.

Oakleigh made her way down the darkened, tight corridors, dodging the wide brims of cowboy hats as she went. Whenthey arrived at Big Slim’s pen, she couldn’t help but shudder at their close proximity to the enormous beast.

“Big Slim,” she introduced by gesturing with her left hand, while flinging her right hand to the pen across the way. “Lil’ Slim.”

“Oh, it’s too dark down here,” Harper complained, retrieving her phone from the tight pocket of her designer jeans. She tapped her screen, turning on the blindingly bright flashlight. She whirled around, shining it directly into the cold eyes of the fierce animals.

“Mom, seriously,” Oakleigh exclaimed. “There’s a thin iron fence between you, and getting trampled to death.”

“Oh, Oakleigh,” Harper flung her hand casually, shrugging off the valid concern. “They’recows.”

Oakleigh steadied herself to rehash her harrowing experience of nearly being trampled to death by one of thosecows,when she caught sight of the one cowboy she was hoping to find.

Crew was in a huddle, strategizing with his team. Sawyer did a double take as Oakleigh approached, giving a subtle signal alerting them to her presence.

“Hey there,” Crew turned, his voice swinging high with a nervous smile dashed across his face.

“What’s up, boys?” Oakleigh deadpanned, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She knew him well enough to recognize when something was awry.

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