Page 5 of Lie for a Million

“I’m fine, Dad.” Cheyenne turned away from him to hide the darkening bruise on her cheek, but Kirby’s sharp eyes missed nothing.

“Blast it, what happened?” Kirby demanded. “I told you not to cut so close to those barrels.”

She shrugged. “I do it to win.”

“Well, you can’t do it forever. And if you don’t stop, you could end up like me. Maybe you need to quit the rodeo and do something sensible, like beauty school.”

“Leave her alone, Kirby,” Rachel said. “Let her enjoy her supper in peace. She’s got better ways to make a living than beauty school. If she took the modeling offer from that fancy magazine—”

“May I please be excused?” Without waiting for a reply, Cheyenne pushed back her chair, stood, and stalked out of the kitchen. Roper glimpsed tears as she rushed passed him.

As the screen door slammed, the boys exchanged glances. “She’s been off her game all weekend,” Chance said. “Maybe it’s, you know, her time of the month.”

“That’s enough, Chance,” Rachel snapped. “That’s none of your business and not fit for the table. Not another word.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Chance speared another slice of pot roast.

Roper, who’d eaten all he wanted, stood and carried his plate to the sink. “I’ll go out and make sure she’s all right,” he said.

“Fine.” Kirby drizzled more whiskey into his cup. “Maybe you can talk some sense into the girl.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Dad,” Rowdy said.

Ignoring the exchange, Roper opened the screen door and went outside. He’d expected to find Cheyenne huddled on the steps. When he didn’t see her there, he crossed the yard. He found her perched on the corral fence, watching the horses that had been unloaded from the trailer. Among them was Jezebel, the palomino mare she used for barrel racing.

Without a word, he joined her on the fence, slinging his leg over the top rail to settle beside her. Neither of them spoke at first, but the silence between them was comfortable.

“Is Jezebel all right?” he asked her.

“She seems all right. At least she’s not limping, and she ate her oats earlier. What do you think?”

Roper took a few seconds to watch the mare. “She looks fine to me,” he said. “It’s you I’m concerned about. That’s a nasty bruise on your cheek. Something tells me you’ve got more bruises that don’t show.”

She exhaled—a broken sigh, verging on a sob. “I don’t want to do rodeo with the boys anymore,” she said. “Stetson spent the night with a buckle bunny, and I think Rowdy is smoking weed, maybe more. Chance is headed the same way. Mom would have a fit if she knew. So much for having raised us by the Good Book.”

“I take it you’re not going to tell her.”

“Heavens, no. That would only break her heart and make everything worse.”

“So what are you going to do, Little Sis?” Roper asked.

Cheyenne watched the flight of a shooting star. A distant train whistle echoed through the darkness.

“That fall with Jezebel was a wake-up call,” she said. “It was my fault, not hers. I’d lost focus and cut the turn too sharp. If she’d been injured, I would never have forgiven myself.”

“You could’ve been hurt, too. Look at your dad. Look at me. Rodeo is dangerous business, even when you’re not riding a bucker. And the lifestyle’s tough, too. More cowboys die in road accidents than in the arena.”

“It’s not that,” Cheyenne said. “I just feel burned out— the culture, the people, even the sport. I want something different, Roper, and I think I know what it is.”

Roper held his tongue, waiting for her to go on.

“You know that this year, the Run for a Million added a Cutting Horse Challenge,” she said. “I’m not ready now, but with hard work I could aim for rookie status next year or even non-pro the year after.”

“That’s a tall order, Little Sis,” Roper said. “Make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I was cutting cows on our Colorado ranch when I was ten years old. I know how to do it.”

“But have you seen it in competition? It’s intense,” Roper said. “And being a rodeo champion won’t buy you much. You can’t just waltz into the big events. You have to work your way up. There are competitions every weekend. Winning takes time and experience.

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