Page 1 of His First Baby Rodeo

CHAPTER1

MAC

“Are you nervous?”

Mac Palmer offered a smile to the young horse handler standing beside him. The kid couldn’t be older than nineteen. Mac thought it was probably his first rodeo season. At thirty-five himself, Mac was one of the older riders here, and he knew his competition looked at him with a lot of questions, wondering when he might be planning to retire. They were going to have a long time to wait for it. He was just as strong in the sport as he’d been in his mid-twenties and was still one of the top-ranked bronco ricers in the nation.

“I’m not nervous,” he told the kid. “I’ve done this a thousand times.” He was sure the kid must know that. After all, he was Mac Palmer. He didn’t like to be arrogant, but he knew that people had heard of him.

Sure enough, there was awe in the kid’s eyes. “Will you sign something for me before you go out?” he asked. “I know I’m not supposed to disturb you by asking that, and I’m really sorry, but—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Mac said. He knew the low-level employees and volunteers would have been warned to leave the riders alone and not pester them for autographs, but the fact of the matter was that he enjoyed having fans. It was one of his favorite parts of being a rodeo star — he liked the riding, but he also liked being known and looked up to for the daring skills he attempted and the many awards he had won. He liked that this kid thought he was cool. “Do you have a pen or something?”

“Yeah!” The kid pulled a permanent marker out of his pocket. He looked around for a moment, searching for something Mac could sign, and then took off his hat and handed that over. “Maybe across the brim?”

“What’s your name?”

“Eric.”

Mac scrawled an autograph on the hat and handed it back. “I hope you enjoy the competition today, Eric. Are you thinking of riding yourself one day?”

“I don’t know if I could.”

“Hey, not with that attitude. Just be confident and get out there on a horse, learn the skills — you’ll get there one day.” He grinned. It was a fun part of the gig, passing on his experience to the next generation of riders. “I’d better get out there.”

“Good luck!” Eric said. “I guess this hat will be worth a lot if you win the competition today.”

“It might be pretty valuable either way,” Mac said. “After all, this is my return to competition after a whole season away. It’s going to be a big deal.” He was confident in his ability to win the competition, but he also wasn’t banking on it — he was realistic about his chances. He knew he was one of the stronger riders in the competition, but you couldn’t always be on the podium.

Mac strode out into the ring as the announcer called his name, turning in a slow circle so that he could wave to the crowd on all four sides of him. People were shouting for him, and he could hear his name being called. It was intoxicating. He loved the experience of walking out and hearing people cheering for him. He would do this for the rest of his life if he could. The people who had hinted that perhaps it was nearing time for him to retire had no idea what they were talking about, he reflected. He was far from being finished with this part of his life.

The bronc was waiting in the center of the ring, and Mac could see by his eyes that he was a wild one.Good. Mac was always up for a challenge, and on the whole he thought a tougher horse favored him. He offered one last wave to the crowd, then went and stood beside the horse, waiting for his cue to mount.

The first buzzer sounded and Mac swung up onto the bronco’s back. The handlers tightened their grips so the animal wouldn’t break free before the event officially began.

Mac settled into his position on the horse, his muscles engaged, waiting.

The second buzzer sounded and the bronc was released.

Immediately, it was as if someone had thrown a switch and removed the gravity from the world. Fortunately, it was a sensation Mac was used to. Bronco riding always felt like this, and he knew beginning riders could sometimes succumb to a sense of something almost like vertigo and could lose their sense of where they were in the air, which made it that much harder to stay on the horse’s back. Mac was a professional, though. He could stay on horseback all day, no matter how wild the bronco was, and he could certainly manage it long enough to win this competition—

Then he slipped in the saddle.

It was only a minor slip. If he had been riding for pleasure, he could have adjusted his position and gone on without any trouble. But he was moving too quickly, the horse beneath him too wild, and there was no opportunity to correct the mistake. The next time the bronco bucked, Mac felt himself flying through the air.

Then he was on the ground, his body numb, staring up at the stars overhead and listening to the shouts of the crowd around him and the handlers as they closed in on the bronco.

Someone was kneeling beside him. Mac turned his head and saw the face of the rodeo medic, familiar from the sidelines — this man had been standing in the wings of every event, and this was the first time he had had to run into the ring. It was surreal to think that the reason it was happening was because Mac had fallen from his horse. This couldn’t be right. He was Mac Palmer. He was supposed to be the star of this whole event, not lying on the ground while a hush fell over the crowd.

He struggled to sit up.

“Stay down,” the medic said. “You might have a back injury.”

“I don’t,” he huffed, annoyed at the suggestion. “I need to get up and finish the competition.”

“Mr. Palmer, the competition is over,” the medic said. “At least, it is for you. The bronco has been put away. And you know you’re not allowed to get back up on the horse once you’ve been thrown. That’s the way this works. Besides, you might injure yourself worse if you try to continue.”

“I’m not injured.” He couldn’t be injured. He’d thought about his return to the ring all winter long as he had trained and prepared for it. And he’d been prepared to accept that he might not win the competition — though he’d definitely thought his odds were good — but even in his worst imaginings, the ones where he had finished off the podium, it had never gone like this. There had always been pride and respect and the knowledge that he was back at the top of his game, and that the other riders had been put on notice.

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