Page 11 of Rough Stock
“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to. We are rodeo. We don’t allow that shit,” Richard said, then added, “Oh, sorry, ma’am. We don’t allow that stuff.”
“Relax,” Shyanna said, her voice lighter. “I’m not offended. You have no idea the words that were cycling in my head as they were saying all that shit.”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea, and I wish you’d said them,” Jensen said with a little laugh. “Next time, cut loose and let the chips fall where they may.”
Her smile was huge. “Will do. But thanks?all three of you. I appreciate it. Nobody’s ever had my back before. Feels kinda good.”
Brian turned back toward his basket. “You’re welcome. Gotta get back to my laundry. Good talking to you.”
“Me too. You guys take it easy,” Richard said, then tipped his hat toward Shyanna. “Ma’am.”
She nodded and he stepped away. Before Jensen could say anything, she asked, “So how much laundry do you have?”
He glanced at his basket. “Two loads.”
“Me too. Want to get something to eat when we’re finished?”
He couldn’t believe it?she was asking him to dinner! “Uh, well, yeah. Sure! That sounds good. Where are we going?”
“I saw a little Italian place down the road. How does that sound?”
He nodded. “Sounds great. Put your stuff in the washers beside mine and we can sit here together to wait for them to get done.”
“Sounds good.” Shyanna retrieved her basket and started the two washers.
Jensen had to do it, had to know more about her. “So where are you from?”
Shyanna sat down in one of the orange retro bucket chairs and crossed an ankle onto the opposite knee. “Crestwood Lake, Florida.”
“You said you rodeoed in college?”
Shyanna nodded her head. “Yeah. I went to community college and when I was finished, I started on the women’s barrel circuit, but I knew that wasn’t for me. All I really wanted to do was ride broncs and bulls.”
“How old were you?”
She grinned without ever looking at him. “Twenty-one. My grandpa gave me a loan to get a trailer and have some gasmoney. That’s how I started out. Of course, my parents thought I was crazy. They thought anybody was crazy who spent their money on something other than drinking their lives away.” There was silence for a few minutes, almost as though she was waiting for him to ask her something else. When he didn’t, she asked him, “And you?”
“The university in Greenville, SouthCarolina, near home. I started in rodeo in 4-H and kept going. By the time I graduated, I had a scholarship for my Master’s program. Agricultural sciences, concentration in animal husbandry.”
“Ah. Ranching.”
Jensen chuckled. “Around there we don’t call it ranching. It’s just cattle farming.”
“Um-hmmm. Gotcha.” Sitting there doodling with a ring she wore on her right index finger, she asked, “How do your folks feel about all this? Rodeo, I mean?”
Jensen shrugged. “They’re fine with it after everything I…” When he realized his near slip, he stopped cold.
“What everything?” Jensen left her waiting as he tried to figure out something to say that would cover for his goof. Before he could come up with anything, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy.”
“No, no. It’s just that… Let’s just say I got out of a very bad relationship and leave it at that,” he said. That seemed good enough.
“I know the feeling.” He wondered what the hell that meant, but he was a little afraid to ask. If he asked too much, she might ask him more, and he really didn’t want to say.
Steering the conversation elsewhere seemed the way to go, so he asked, “You started out when you were twenty-one. So how long have you been doing this?”
She shrugged. “Well, let’s see. Originally, I did it for four years. This time, it’s been about seven years.”
“This time?” She nodded. “Did you do something else at some point?”
