with the horses. She especially loved the challenge Slingshot presented. It took a month at the farm before the horse’s difficult personality became evident, and then Mason had wanted to sell him. Tanya had talked him out of it and had worked tirelessly with the horse, but had made minimal progress. So she’d suggested that Mason allow her to work Slingshot’s kinks out on the circuit. Mason had been reluctant, but Tanya had persisted until he caved in.
“Slingshot’s getting restless,” she said. “He’s ready to compete again.”
“I think the damned horse doesn’t like being separated from you.”
“We have a love-hate relationship.”
“Maybe you should give him a different name.”
Slingshot lived up to his name and then some. He burst out of the alley and broke the barrier like a rock in a slingshot. The only problem was that his momentum made his turns sloppy and he sacrificed valuable seconds getting around the barrels.
“And he’s damned ugly,” Mason muttered.
The mud-brown horse had no markings, and if you saw him in a lineup with other horses, your gaze would skip over him. But Slingshot had heart—not even Mason could argue with that. The gelding came from a strong bloodline of barrel racers. His legs were straight with no bumps or scars—he hadn’t been in any accidents or mishaps—and he possessed a strong back and healthy hooves. Slingshot was built to run, but he was a mystery—just like Victor Vicario—and it was anyone’s guess which one would be easier to tame.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the women’s barrel-racing event at the JUAB County Fairgrounds here in beautiful Nephi, Utah.”
Tanya stood with Slingshot, waiting for her turn to enter the alley. She hoped the beast would behave today. She tugged his head lower and whispered in his ear. “Be a sweet boy out there. It’s okay if we lose, just don’t go rogue on me.”
“Hey, Tanya!”
She swallowed a groan. Samantha Martinez, the nineteen-year-old up-and-coming star of barrel racing, entered the line with her horse, Prince Charming. “Have you considered that maybe Slingshot misbehaves because he’s suffering from an undiagnosed injury?”
“You wouldn’t by chance be accusing me of abusing my horse?”
Samantha’s eyes rounded and she sucked in a fake gasp. “Of course not.” Then she shrugged her rhinestone shoulders.
What a little snot. A veterinarian had examined Slingshot and had given him a clean bill of health. The horse’s orneriness was all in his head.
“Sometimes it’s not the horse but the owner.” Samantha smiled. “Maybe Slingshot just doesn’t like you.”
Tanya’s gut coiled in a knot. She’d wondered the same thing but hadn’t had the courage to admit it out loud. What if she’d read Slingshot wrong and he didn’t want to compete? Hating Samantha for undermining her confidence, she said, “Don’t you have a prom to get ready for?”
The cowgirl jerked as if she’d been slapped. Jeez, the girl could dish it out, but she couldn’t take it. Tanya regretted snapping at the stuck-up princess, but darn it, her sureness was already lower than the water table in Death Valley.
“You and Slingshot ready?”
Vic stood behind the barrier gate that blocked off one side of the alley. He wasn’t smiling—he never did—but his eyes glinted with warmth. Ten days had passed since she last saw him in Wyoming, and not an hour had gone by that he hadn’t crossed her mind—sometimes more than once or twice. Dare she hope that he’d thought of her, too?
“I’m ready.” She smiled, her heart pumping faster. “But it’s always a crapshoot with my horse.”
“Did you make a practice run?”
She shook her head. Would he think she was nuts for giving up her time slot earlier in the day? She hadn’t wanted to take the chance that Slingshot would injure himself or throw her and knock her out of the competition this afternoon. “We’re trying something different.”
He didn’t comment on her decision, which she appreciated, since she’d already questioned it herself. “You’ve had a good run so far this month.” Who cared if Vic knew she stalked his schedule?
“I’ve been lucky.”
Lucky her fanny. Pure talent had pushed Vic upward in the standings. “You ready to bust your bronc tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winked.
Holy smokes, was Vic flirting with her? Another barrel racer’s name was announced and the rider took off down the alley. Tanya was next.
“Good luck.” Vic tipped his hat and disappeared.
Tanya pushed the cowboy out of her head and hoisted herself onto Slingshot’s back. He stamped his hooves and she patted his neck. “C’mon, big guy. Show Vic what you can do.”
“Up next is Tanya McGee from Longmont, Colorado. She and Slingshot need to beat sixteen seconds to take over first place.”
Tanya would be happy with twenty-five seconds if Slingshot behaved. The arena attendant signaled and she tapped her boot heels. Then Slingshot raced down the alley and burst through the electronic eye that triggered the timer. They headed straight for the first barrel on the right. With one hand on the saddle horn, she sank deep in her seat, using the reins to guide him. She squeezed his flanks, holding her inside leg securely against his girth, giving him a focal point for the turn. Slingshot executed the turn perfectly and raced in the opposite direction toward the second barrel. She felt him ready himself a second too early and she held on when her leg scraped the barrel, which thankfully remained upright.
To complete the cloverleaf pattern, she and Slingshot raced through the middle toward the rear of the arena, opposite the entrance. Slingshot was going too fast to make the turn and Tanya pulled back on the reins, signaling him to slow up, but the stubborn gelding ignored her and took out the barrel before returning to the alley at an impressive speed.
“Well, folks, if Slingshot hadn’t hit that barrel he’d have clocked a time good enough for second place. Too bad a five-second penalty puts Tanya McGee and Slingshot dead last. Better luck next time, cowgirl!”
Tanya hopped off Slingshot. “Good boy.” She patted his shoulder, but he jerked his head away as if he knew they’d lost. Okay, fine. Be a jerk. She walked him outside the arena past the livestock pens until he cooled down. Then she hitched him to the back of her trailer next to his water and feed. “You rest while I watch Vic.”
Tanya had four days to make it to the Rockin’ Horse Ranch in Moriarty, New Mexico, for the Women’s Professional Rodeo Association barrel-racing event. If Slingshot didn’t place in the top three, Mason had warned Tanya, he’d no longer fund her rodeo expenses. She either returned to the farm with Slingshot or paid her own way on the circuit.
With her meager savings, Tanya might be able to compete through the end of July. If Slingshot turned around by then, maybe Mason would
