but wonder if the draw had been fixed and she’d been given the tamest horse because she was a woman and they were worried about her getting hurt. It certainly seemed that way when one of the chute workers tried to convince her to wear a helmet, vest, and neck roll. She usually wore a vest and helmet, but with all the other cowboys watching intently, her ego made the decision not to.
Sawyer wasn’t among the cowboys. After her little temper tantrum, she figured he’d decided to stay completely away from her.
She figured wrong.
When she climbed into the chute, he was there waiting. She tried to stay focused, but it was hard when he leaned in closer.
“The reason he’s called Maytag is because after you get off him, you’ll feel like you’ve been put through a washing machine.” The image wasn’t quite as soothing as her previous one about kids and flowers. “He bucks rapidly. The key is to keep your spurs high and your chin down. He bucks with his head low so give yourself some added rein.”
“I got this!” she snapped. But when she settled down on Maytag’s back, she measured out a little more rein.
Sawyer proved to be right. The horse bucked faster than any horse she’d ever been on and made her feel like she was being agitated in a washer. His hooves barely touched the ground before he was high-kicking again. She usually could catch the rhythm of a horse within a few bucks, but it took her twice as long with Maytag. And even then, she knew her form wasn’t as good as it should’ve been. Still, she hung on. She hung on until the buzzer sounded. Unfortunately, before the pickup men could get to her, the horse gave a high buck and sent Maisy flying.
She landed on her shoulder and the searing pain that knifed through her made her suck in a mouthful of arena dirt. Knowing her injuries would be even worse if she got caught under the horse’s hooves, she started to roll out of the way. Before she could, something landed on top of her. A grunt close to her ear made her realize it was a person. The scent of spicy soap, leather, and horse identified who the person was.
“Get off me, Sawyer Dawson.” She forced the words out between her gritted teeth. She had wanted him on top of her, but not like this. A few seconds later, Sawyer complied. Except when she sat up, she realized he’d had to have help getting off her. He was laid out on the ground next to her unconscious as two rodeo cowboys leaned over him.
“Get the ambulance!” One of the cowboys called.
While she was trying to process what had happened, another cowboy knelt next to her. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “I think I broke my collarbone.”
He glanced back at Sawyer who still wasn’t moving. “You would’ve broken more than that if Saw hadn’t protected you from Maytag’s hooves with his body. He saved your life, Little Girl.”
Chapter Three
Once again, Sawyer woke with a headache and memory loss. But this headache was twice as bad as the last. He knew this pain. He’d woken up with it before. It was the all-consuming pain that came along with a concussion. He felt around his scalp and found a large lump on the back of his head. He tried to remember how he’d gotten it, but his brain couldn’t pull anything up.
He opened his eyes to see if he could find something in his hotel room to jog his memory. But he wasn’t in a hotel room. He was in a small room with rounded silver walls and windows with curtains that had little cowboys wielding six-shooters. The curtains were swaying in a way that made Sawyer feel nauseous. At first, he thought it was the breeze coming in through the windows that made the curtains move, but then he realized the entire room was moving.
He sat up too quickly and had to close his eyes to regain his balance. When he opened them, he discovered he was in a trailer. A moving trailer. He pushed back the curtains of the closest window and looked out at the side of a semi-truck that was passing. When it was gone, he saw landscape he was familiar with. He was still in Texas.
Tossing off the covers, he swung his feet to the floor and stood. He wore a hospital gown. Which was curious. He