strap on a prize buckle. She ought to just relax and enjoy herself. But it was hard to relax when the air in the truck cab shimmered with vitality, and it was even harder to ignore the squirmy sort of warmth that was coiling deep in her belly. She turned her head, pretending to stare out the window, and hoped he couldn’t see her reflection. Because she was pretty sure her tongue was hanging out.
It always surprised her how quickly you could get out of Casper. After a quick trip on the freeway, they cruised through an almost featureless landscape where broad plains stretched out from the road, bordered on both sides by a motley assortment of fence posts that proved ranchers were willing to staple barbed wire to anything that would stand still. She counted the posts as they flashed past. One. Two. Three, four, five. The truck picked up speed as the traffic thinned.
Unclenching her hands, she tried to relax. She leaned against the door. She propped one foot on the seat with her knee bent under her. That was uncomfortable, so she shifted and crossed her legs. Finally, she found herself back in her customary position, legs parallel at a graceful diagonal, ankles primly crossed, hands folded.
Shoot, she was such a tight-ass these days.
She hadn’t always been that way. Riding across the plains in a pickup reminded her of riding to town with her stepdad in the days before child safety seats and seat belt laws. She and Kelsey had ridden in the truck bed with their backs to the cab and feet stretched out, letting the wind whip their hair around while they whooped and made faces at the cars behind them. Sometimes they’d stand up, resting their elbows on the top of the cab and bracing their feet, leaning into the wind like figureheads at the prow of a rusty, rattletrap ship.
“I’m the king of the world!” Kelsey would shout, spreading her arms.
Sarah wondered what had happened to Roy’s old pickup. Sold, probably, along with everything else. Her mother had driven a series of nondescript sedans that had degenerated from simply used to derelict, reflecting the declining path her life had taken after Roy had died and she’d started finding comfort in the bottle again. She’d passed on two years later, and everyone at the funeral had called it “a blessing.” Sarah thought the blessing came a little late. Her mother could have used God’s grace a little sooner.
The crunch of gravel under the tires brought her thoughts back to the present. As they turned into a wide, flat parking lot, the rodeo grounds loomed before her like a slice of her past plopped down in the middle of the open plains. There was no good reason for the arena to be where it was except that some enterprising rancher had decided to use some extra lumber to build a set of bleachers. From that small beginning the place had grown into pretty respectable rodeo grounds, with fenced corrals for livestock, a high booth set on stilts for the announcer, and a playground for the kids—though why ranch kids would want to ride plastic ponies on springs was anybody’s guess. As Lane and Sarah passed the chain-link fence that kept the kids corralled, Sarah saw a little boy throw out a loop and snag one of the play ponies like a pro, dallying his rope on the handle of the teeter-totter.
It was summer, so a carnival had sprung up around the grounds. Trailers advertising hot dogs and turkey legs were parked in ragged rows, and a few rickety rides competed with the playground. There was a beer tent on the far side of the arena, and a few enterprising women from the Wind River Reservation had set up tables in the parking lot to sell jewelry.
Lane checked his watch and cussed under his breath. “We’re running late,” he said. “I’ll meet you after the bucking. You want to watch the barrel racing then, or hit the beer tent?”
“Beer tent,” she said quickly. It was an easy decision. Watching the girls urge their horses through the cloverleaf would bring back memories, while tossing back a beer would help stave them off.
She headed for the stands, enjoying the way her old boots crunched on the gravel walkway. A bunch of girls dressed in sparklicious rodeo queen attire were loping their horses up and down behind the concession trailers, showing off for the cowboys who lounged carelessly on