“I think I’m pretty sure I might love you, Dalton.”
“You think you’re pretty sure?”
She raked her fingernails along the back of his head in a way that made nerves hum up and down his spine. “I’m definitely pretty sure I might.”
That was good enough for Dalton. For now.
CHAPTER 17
Soon after dawn the next morning, Raney and Uno watched Dalton and Alejandro load the colt and the help horse into the trailer.
Bringing along an extra horse for a small show wasn’t strictly necessary since Rosco wouldn’t be competing and, therefore, wouldn’t require a horse and rider to help manage the herd while he worked his cow. But Big Mike was a mellow, show-wise, eleven-year-old gelding, and ever since he and Alejandro had joined Rosco’s daily workouts—turning back errant cattle who tried to break free and holding the rest of the herd together—Rosco had grown accustomed to having him around. Mike was a really good turn-back and help horse. He and Alejandro made a great team. And for this first, stressful outing, Dalton felt the colt might be more relaxed if the older, more experienced horse came along.
By the time they were ready to go, neither Joss nor Grady had put in an appearance. Not surprising, since, for now at least, Joss was back in love. Raney left a note on the kitchen counter saying where they’d be and that they’d be back late in the afternoon, then they left, Dalton driving, Raney riding shotgun, Alejandro and Uno in the backseat.
Raney was as nervous as a kid headed to her first 4-H show, which was ridiculous. She’d been to plenty of horse shows. But it was all new to Rosco, and this would be Dalton’s first since he’d become a part of Four Star, and she was anxious that they do well. She wondered how soccer moms handled the pressure of watching their kids perform. Booze in their thermoses, probably. She was sorry she hadn’t thought to bring along a toddy for herself.
Dalton tried to keep things calm by reminding her it wasn’t a big show, maybe a hundred or so horses. “No use overexposing Rosco to too much, too soon,” he said, making it sound like this first show was just a tiny step in Rosco’s training.
Which it was. A tiny first step. And if the blare of the loudspeaker didn’t send him bouncing off the walls, or the chaos of having a hundred strange horses and people milling around didn’t frazzle his nerves, he would be fine. Probably.
“I was able to buy a practice session with cattle in one of the smaller pens,” she said. “During the break, like you asked.”
“I know.” He looked over with a condescending smile. “You told me already. Three times.”
“Bite me.”
Scheduling Rosco’s practice during the break would hopefully bring other trainers over to see what the colt could do. If he did well, that would build on the hype, so that when he went to the Futurity, there would already be a lot of interest. The cows used at these shows were usually rerun yearling heifers and wouldn’t offer much of a challenge, which was good. Having an easy first run would bolster Rosco’s confidence and help settle his nerves. Raney’s, too, she hoped.
Dalton reached across the truck console and laced his fingers through hers. “He’ll do fine.”
The warm, strong fingers gripping hers felt like a lifeline to Raney. On reflex, she put her other hand over both of theirs to anchor him to her. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Aren’t you nervous?”
“Not when I know what I’m doing and I’m prepared.” He gave her that crooked smile. “Think of it as a social outing. You’ll know half of the people there. Be fun to catch up.”
It suddenly occurred to Raney how awkward this might be for Dalton, seeing people he hadn’t heard from since he’d left for prison. And with that thought came the realization that she wasn’t nervous about how Dalton and Rosco would do, but about what others might do when they saw the man who had caused the death of the county commissioner’s nephew.
An image popped into her mind—Dalton facing those two bullies outside the Roadhouse. He’d looked so alone. So resigned. Like he knew he’d be facing that kind of hostility for the rest of his life.
Anger shot through Raney. Not this time. She would make certain of it.
“Relax, sweetheart.”
“I am relaxed.” Now that she had a plan, she actually was.
“Then why are you squeezing my hand so hard?”
She grinned over at him. “I don’t want you to get away. Not before you do what you said you would.” She wondered if he remembered he’d promised her a ride she’d never forget.
By the rush of color up his neck, he did.
By the snort from the backseat, Alejandro guessed, too.
Balance happily restored, Raney settled back for the rest of the drive.
Even though they arrived well before the competition began, the stands were already half-filled. They found a parking place near the bleachers and not too far from a tall pole with a speaker on it. Guaranteed to be noisy and busy. Good training for Rosco. After they unloaded the horses and tied them to the trailer, Raney pulled Alejandro aside and reminded him about the fight outside the Roadhouse.
“I don’t want it happening again, Alejandro. You watch his back.”
“Sí, Jefe.”
“And if it looks like trouble, find me. Or better yet, send Uno. ¿Tú comprende?”
He gave a small, knowing smile. “Sí. I will keep su novio safe, Jefe.”
Raney didn’t correct him. After all, he had heard their conversation and had seen them holding hands. “Thank you, my friend. I can always count on you.”
“Sí. Always.”
Once the horses were saddled, Raney took Uno to the stands, while Dalton and Alejandro rode to the arena to work out the kinks from being trailered.
The arena was divided in two by a portable metal fence. The competition would take place at one
