Page 83 of Rough Stock
The bride’s steps were hesitant as she made her way toward the animal. “Am I dreaming?” she asked, her voice so soft Jensen could barely hear her.
“No, babe. He was at a riding school in Delaware. The lady there said she got him at an auction, and it sounds like it was a couple of years after he disappeared, so we don’t know where he was during that time. But here he is, and he’s in good shape too,” Jensen said, stroking the horse’s neck. When Shyanna reachedout a hand, he smiled. “Go ahead. Touch him. He’s real, Shy. It’s Rainmaker.”
“How did you find him?” Shyanna asked as her fingers touched his nose for the first time and he nickered. In seconds, her arms were around his neck and she cried into his mane.
“Social media. How else?” he said with a laugh. “And then a lot of following up on leads.” He watched her trace the scar on the gelding’s face as if to confirm to herself that it really was her horse. “But this lady sent me a picture of the scar, and I knew when I saw it that it had to be him.” He stroked a hand down the back of her head and she turned to look at him. “Happy?”
“I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with myself,” Shyanna sobbed.
“How ’bout you let us take care of him and you guys get on the road?” Amos offered as Amber took the horse’s lead from Jensen’s hand. “He’ll be here when you get back, we promise.”
Twenty minutes later, Shyanna slid up against Jensen in the cab of his pickup truck and clutched his free arm tightly. “I love you, baby. I’m so happy.”
“Happiest day of your life?” Jensen asked with a sappy grin.
“No.”
Jensen was stunned. “Whaddya mean, no?”
“No. The happiest day of my life was when I found you on the side of that road and told you I love you. Until that very second, I thought my chance was over.”
“Nope, babe.” He leaned over as he drove and kissed her cheek. “It was just beginning.”
Five years later …
“What kind of numbers are we looking at here?” Jensen asked, shuffling through the paperwork they’d brought in with the agenda.
Martin Gates, head of the membership committee, answered. “We’ve got at least a hundred and twenty wanting to do this.”
“But can we?” CliffHill asked. He was the newest board member, but he knew rodeo inside and out. He’d worked for the biggest association in the nation for years, and his experience and input were invaluable.
“Nothing in the bylaws that says we can’t,” CorbinLigon, their resident legal consultant, answered.
“Good. The women barrel racers want to form their own sister association under our umbrella, and I say we go for it. We need a vote?” Jensen asked.
“Yep. Somebody make the motion.”
“I will,” Corbin chimed in.
Thirty minutes later, the USPCA had a new organization, the United States Professional Cowgirl Barrel Racing Association, or USPCBRA, under its charter. “And we’ll call it Cobra, in honor of your horse, if that’s okay,” Cliff said.
Jensen’s heart twisted just a little. He still missed that old horse, but with the addition of the two he’d bought from Stag, plus Rhubarb and Rainmaker, he had a full house. “That’s fine. I think that would be a great way for him to be remembered. Any other business?”
“Just to let you know, there’s a push from a group of guys to form a gay cowboy rodeo association, if we would welcome that,” Corbin said.
Jensen looked around the little group, and they all nodded. “Set up a meeting with them and we’ll talk, but honestly, I think it’s about time somebody made that move. They need to be recognized. They’ve been shut out of the circuit for too long.”
Cliff nodded. “I’m all for this. We can help them and show everybody that we’re progressive at the same time. It’s a win/win.”
“You said you had something?” WaltCoopman asked Jensen.
The association president leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers over his belly. “Yeah. I want to start a junior bull riders program. What do you guys think?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Cliff answered.
“Me too,” one of the other board members said in agreement.
The door flew open and a pair of little feet pounded across the room. “Daddy!”
