Page 3 of Rough Stock
“No. And I didn’t ask. That wouldn’t have been very professional ofme,” Jensen barked back. “I think you guys should quit acting so threatened by a girl on the circuit and just let her do her job.”
“Threatened? Who the fuck areyou, rookie?” Max asked, his eyes flashing.
He didn’t stand. He didn’t even look up. “I’m the rookie who’s gonna dust your ass tomorrow. While you’ve been busy with buckle bunnies, I’ve beenworking,” Jensen spouted. He could tell Max was getting his dander up, and he didn’t give a shit.
“Oh, is that right? Want me to take you out to the parking lot and show you what I’ve been working on?” Max snarled.
“Not if it requires me dropping trou and getting down on all fours,” Jensen answered, his voice pithy and strong.
“Guys, guys. Cut it the fuck out. If we want to keep these hussies out of our events, we’ve got to stand together,” Tilford ordered. “This is ridiculous. I don’t give a shit what she does, as long as she doesn’t win.”
“I don’t care if she wins, as long as she does it fair and square,” Jensen responded.
Tilford nodded. “You just keep telling yourself that. You’re a little naïve.”
“Funny, that’s what she said when I told her we all needed to stick together to make it through the tough times. Seems maybe she’s not as far off base as you guys think. Y’all think I’m naïve too, but when I win that buckle on Saturday night, you won’t be thinking that for long,” Jensen announced, and he meant it. He’d worked hard and taken his events at every rodeo he’d attended that year.
“Good thing you aren’t in team roping or tie-down or a girl might beat you,” Max said, laughing.
“That would be okay, as long as she deserved to win.” Jensen was getting tired of their chauvinistic attitudes. He’d heard Tilford had been treated for syphilis once and gonorrhea twice in the last handful of years, and that if it would hold still, Max would fuck it, regardless if it had a tab or a slot. Every time he saw Max, he wanted to say,Ah, it’sBrokeback Mountainall over again, huh?But he’d never slur his gay friends that way. “I’m heading to my trailer. It’s late and I’ve got events to win tomorrow. Gentlemen,” he said, tipping his hat, then added, “oh, and the two of you too,” toward Max and Tilford. With that, he turned, waiting for someone to hit him from behind, but they didn’t.
As he walked out the door, he pivoted his head slightly to glance over at Shyanna. She was still sitting at the bar, still alone, staring down into her glass. Walking back to his trailer, he thought about her. How lonely must it be, working in a field where everyone around her hated her and wanted her gone? It had to be miserable.
Jensen Strader hadn’t been raised that way. He’d been taught to help anyone who needed it, and if he could do anything to help ShyannaOwens, he’d most certainly try.
She watchedthe cowboy as he walked away and thought about his words. It would be nice to have a friend in the circuit, but she wasn’t sure she could trust him. She wasn’t sure she could trust anyone. So far, no one had been trustworthy. She’d met a lot of women who were barrel racers or breakaway ropers, but that was about it. When she complained about the treatment she gotin other events, they just laughed and said the same damn thing over and over again: “What did you expect?”
It was her first season with the United States Professional Cowboy Association, and she didn’t want it to be her last. She’d left the old one because they didn’t allow men to participate in barrel racing, pole bending, or breakaway roping, but this one was the opposite. They didn’t want women participating in anything but barrel racing and breakaway roping, and they didn’t even have pole bending. When she’d signed on, they didn’t tell her she couldn’t participate in the rough stock events, but they announced to her in the first five minutes that they’d never had women who wanted to do so. She took that to mean they didn’t want her to, and the following weeks had proven that assumption to be right. She’d signed up for all three rough stock events every time in hopes she could make it into one of them, and every time she’d been told they had an overage and she’d been cut. Every. Damn. Time.
As her eyes roamed the room toward where Jensen had gone, she could see him there with several guys, and it looked like he was arguing with at least one of them. That left her wondering if he didn’t get along with some of them. She’d been watching him, following his progress, for the last four years, and he’d made quite a name for himself in the rodeo world. At the rate he was going, the present year would be his best ever. He’d been taking one event right after another at the rodeos he’d attended, and his overall earnings for the year were second highest, with only MaxBarlow above him. And she was pretty sure Max was the guy he was arguing with.
She watched from the corner of her eye as he tipped his hat to the guys and made his way out of the bar, and she had an overwhelming urge to follow him out, catch up with him, and ask him if he really meant all the things he’d said to her, but she wouldn’t. It would be better to find out that he’d lied to herjust by watching his behavior over the next few months than to have him lie to her face again. He wanted her to believe he was honorable.
But she was pretty sure he was just like all the rest.
The morning wasbright and warm, and Jensen spent it grooming his horses. They were both great for use in the steer wrestling competitions, and he was trying to decide which one to use that day when he heard a voice say, “Good morning.”
Shyanna walked past, leading a big bay mare. “Hey, good morning to you. Nice-looking horse,” he answered.
“Thanks. Name’s Rhubarb. She’ll be twelve this summer. Trained her myself,” she said as she kept walking.
“Good luck today,” he called after her.
He heard her call back, “Good luck to you too,” before she disappeared around the corner of the barn.
After he’d gotten his dun Quarter Horse, Cobra, and his blanket Appaloosa Quarter Horse, Snowman, all groomed, fed, and ready for the day, Jensen headed to the food trucks to find some breakfast. With two sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast burritos in a bag and a cup of coffee in his hand, he found a picnic table at the edge of the eating area, sat down, opened his food, and called his parents’ house. “Hey, honey!” his mother’s lilting voice cried into the phone.
“Hi, Mama. How’s everything going?”
“Your dad has physical therapy today, so Leo’s gonna tend the cattle by himself. How’s it going there?”
“Pretty good. I met the only woman on our circuit last night,” he said as he chewed.
“The only woman? How can that be?” she asked, and he knew what she was thinking.
“I’m talking about the only woman in the circuit who rides in the open events.” Of course, she knew that, for them, only women usually participated in barrel racing and breakaway roping, so there were plenty of women on the circuit. As for the male-dominated events, finding a woman participating in them was unheard of. “She does tie-down roping and team roping.”
“Get out!” his mother exclaimed. “You’re kidding!”
