for her chance. Finally, her father had stepped into a crowd of men who were placing bets on a horse race to be run in the morning and passing around a bottle. Her sisters were flirting with half a dozen cowhands who’d stopped by for a cool drink from the pitcher of lemonade in the back of their rig. No one would miss her.
She found Rowdy off by himself in the shadows of a barn. Since he’d drawn bronc riding as his first challenge, he’d be part of the last group to compete.
Without a word, she moved beside him, leaned her back on the barn only a few inches from his arm and handed him a canteen. She could feel the tension in his body.
“A fellow named Dan O’Brien offered to ride drag for me during the calf roping.”
“He’s all right, I guess,” she said without looking at Rowdy. “He owns a little farm to the south of here.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m not sure he’s much of a cowhand. I think he raises mostly hogs at his place.”
“I’ve already told him I’d trade the favor off for him. He only entered calf roping, so he must feel like he can handle his own.”
Laurel nodded once. “All right.” She could have suggested a few others who might have been better, but he hadn’t asked.
While he drank, she decided to tell him what she knew before he made another mistake, “I’ve been watching the black you drew for tonight. He goes to his left more than his right and fires up easy even in the pen. I think you should—”
“I know how to ride,” he snapped as if resenting her advice. “I’m no greenhorn.”
Silence hung still and heavy between them.
“Fine. Good luck.” She planted a quick, hard kiss on his cheek and walked away.
She thought he might catch up to her and say he was sorry, but he didn’t. A tiny part of her knew she’d done it wrong. She could have said something to him first, maybe let him tell her what he thought. But Laurel would never be like her sisters. She couldn’t have conversations that made no sense. She couldn’t giggle at nothing and bat her lashes. It wasn’t her. It never would be.
“Where you been, girl?” Her father’s voice made her jump.
“Looking at the stock,” she said in a whisper. She didn’t mention that she’d met a cattle buyer from Fort Worth who told her to pass the word along that he’d be willing to buy off the winner’s cattle if the all-around cowboy wanted cash.
“That’s better than hiding in some corner, I guess.” Her father took her elbow in a tight grip. “You remind me more of your mother every day.”
Laurel knew better than to think that was a compliment. Her father had often told her that his first wife was a mouse of a woman, plain and boring. Laurel knew he’d married her for money; he’d even joked once that he’d talked her father into paying more just to get her out of the house.
Her father let go of her arm and climbed on the wagon bench. “I’m going home after the saddle bronc riders. You stay and see that your sisters get home in the wagon after the dance.”
“But I rode in,” she protested. “One of the men will be happy to.”
He looked at her with his usual bothered expression. “All right, see that James or Phil drives the girls home. You can ride back alone, but try to stay for at least one dance. You never know, someone might actually ask you to dance.”
Laurel knew he didn’t care what she did. He probably didn’t care if she danced; he just wanted her to stay behind long enough so that she didn’t ride back with him. If he hadn’t needed her to do the books, he probably would have left her at school until she was thirty. She was a reminder of a time in his life when he’d settled for something far less than what he’d wanted.
She stood silently and watched the competition. The first rider fell off his horse coming out of the shoot. The second rode, but his horse didn’t buck enough to earn many points. The third and fourth started well but didn’t make the clock. Rowdy’s horse came out fighting with all his might to get the saddle and the man off his back.
The crowd rose to their feet. Several people cheered as the animal kicked dust every