His Christmas Gift, page 18
Sawyer hooked an arm around her neck and hauled her close for a kiss. As always, the stroke of his tongue on hers was enough to steal her breath and rob her of rational thought.
He smiled down into her eyes when he finally lifted his head, but after a second his smile faded.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“Nothing.”
He gave her a look. He always knew when she was upset about something. He’d always been good at reading her emotions, and he’d only gotten better as the months went by.
“Some idiot forgot the cranberry sauce.” She pointed at herself, in case he was in any doubt about who she was referring to.
“No problem,” he said easily.
“Sawyer.” She shook her head at his casual acceptance of what was clearly a culinary disaster. “This is our first time hosting Christmas dinner. I want everything to be perfect. Or at least vaguely competent.”
Austin and Lacey were coming, and her father and the woman he’d just started seeing, Donna, along with Henry and his new wife, Sally. Jenna had planned the menu for weeks. She’d even done a practice run with the stuffing. And now she’d been tripped at the last hurdle by a condiment, of all things.
“Seriously, I’ve got this covered,” he said.
She followed him into the living room and watched as he waded into the pile of gifts stacked up around the tree. An eight foot Douglas fir, it was one of Gallagher’s finest, decorated with the best of this year’s ornaments.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked.
He plucked a gift basket out of the sea of brightly wrapped presents, holding it aloft in triumph. She recognized it as the basket she’d been sent by her new boss, Ren Fletcher. She’d started at the Marietta-based law firm six months ago, and was loving every minute of it.
“Oh, you are a genius,” she said, clapping her hands together. They met at the coffee table and together they started pulling the colorful cellophane off the Christmas themed basket.
Sawyer pulled out the first jar. “Mustard.”
Jenna grabbed the second. “Tomato pickle.”
“Marmalade jam,” Sawyer said.
Jenna dug the final jar from the packing straw, ignoring the boxes of crackers and nuts. “Oh, my God.”
She turned the label toward Sawyer so he could read it. Cranberry sauce.
“Like I said, problem solved,” Sawyer said, offering her his cockiest smile.
“God, I love you,” she said.
Setting the sauce to one side, she pulled his head down for a kiss. Because he wasn’t a man to let an opportunity go to waste, Sawyer quickly deepened the kiss, and before she knew it she was on her back on the rug in front of the fire and Sawyer was sliding his hands beneath her sweater. Her insides melted as he played with her breasts, his erection pressing into her belly.
“Your sister’s going to be here to help decorate the table in twenty minutes,” she said, her hands already busy unbuckling his belt and tugging at his fly.
“I can work with that,” he said.
She pulled up her skirt, and Sawyer slid her tights and panties down. She pushed his jeans out of the way, and then he was inside her, stroking into her with the powerful intensity that drove her wild.
“Yes,” she said as he slid a hand under her backside and tilted her hips to meet each of his thrusts. “You are so good at this.”
“So are you. The best.”
“I love you. I love you so much, Sawyer.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
Her climax hit her hard and fast, arching her back and stealing her breath.
“Oh, man, Jenna,” he panted. And then he thrust inside her one last time, and she held him tight as he lost himself for a few seconds.
She laughed when he lifted his head and she saw how dazed he was. She loved that they could still feel like this way about each other after twelve months together. It boded well for the future.
Her gaze went to the solitaire diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand. Sawyer had asked her to marry him exactly one week ago, on the anniversary of the first day of her quarantine. She’d cried and laughed and said yes, then she’d jumped him on the couch where all of this had started over a fiercely competitive game of Scrabble.
They hadn’t set a date for the wedding yet, but Jenna wanted blue skies for their special day, so it was likely they’d aim for something small and intimate in May or June. They hadn’t told anyone except Lacey and Austin yet, wanting to tell their parents in person – Jenna’s father tomorrow, and Sawyer’s parents a couple of days later when they all flew down to Florida for a second Christmas celebration.
Sawyer frowned, cocking his head, and Jenna heard the distinct sound of a car engine pulling up outside.
“Shit,” she said.
Sawyer rolled off her, and Jenna looked around frantically for her panties. She found the wadded up mess of her tights and panties in the corner, and quickly gave up on the idea of being able to get back into her tights in the few seconds left to her before Lacey and Austin came barreling through the door. Disentangling her underwear, she stuffed her stockings into the kindling basket, then quickly dragged her panties up her legs. She was smoothing her skirt back into place when the door opened, and she shot a quick glance at Sawyer and saw he was buckling his belt.
“We’re here, and we’re on time. Don’t anybody faint,” Lacey announced.
Austin filled the doorway behind her, a box in his arms.
“Hey. Great. Perfect timing,” Jenna said brightly.
Lacey’s eyes got squinty and her gaze travelled from Jenna’s bare legs to her rumpled sweater to her mussed hair before she switched her focus to her brother, who was looking equally mussed.
“Come on. What if we’d been early?” Lacey complained. “Do you know how much therapy I’d need to scrub out the image of my brother and my lawyer doing the wild thing on the living room floor? On Grammy Gallagher’s rug, no less?”
“To be fair, I’m not your lawyer anymore.” Jenna reminded her.
She hadn’t been Lacey’s lawyer since Lacey’s guilty verdict had been officially overturned at the request of the DA last January, saving them the expense and anxiety of going to retrial. Jenna had never been happier to lose a client in her life.
Lacey had bloomed since she’d been declared an innocent woman. In a few more months, she’d have her certification back to drive the big diesel trains she loved so much, and she and Austin had just put a down payment on some land backing onto the national forest. It had been a hard road, but Lacey had reclaimed her life.
“Maybe this will teach you to knock,” Sawyer said. “Jenna and I don’t barge into your place without knocking.”
“I grew up in this house,” Lacey reminded him.
“Fine. But don’t say you weren’t warned,” Sawyer said, grinning. “Next time Jenna and I won’t rush.”
“We could definitely learn to knock,” Austin said in his low-key, laconic way.
Lacey and Sawyer continued to argue the point as the four of them pulled out the extra leafs on the kitchen table and began to set the table for tomorrow. Jenna exchanged a few amused glances with Austin, but mostly she just enjoyed the show.
For too many years, she’d had no family to speak of, and now she was a part of this noisy, rowdy warmth. She had Sawyer by her side, and soon they were going to be married. And who knew, maybe – if they were lucky – there would be more family to love in the next few years, and this battered old table would have some high chairs ranged around it on future Christmas Days.
Whatever happened, she knew one thing for certain – Sawyer would be with her every step of the way.
The End
More by Sarah Mayberry
The Carmody Brothers
Book 1: The Cowboy Meets His Match
Buy now!
Book 2: The Rebel and the Cowboy
Buy now!
Book 3: Coming soon!
Enjoy an excerpt from
The Cowboy Meets His Match
Sarah Mayberry
Book 1 in the Carmody Brother series
Keep reading below or buy now!
Cassidy Jane Cooper sat a little straighter behind the wheel as she spotted the sign on the side of the highway. “Welcome to Marietta, Montana, home of the Copper Mountain Rodeo.” Her pickup sped past the tall billboard and the knowledge that she was only minutes from her destination sent her heart into overdrive.
Dumbass, she told herself. No point getting wound up yet. Save it for tomorrow.
It didn’t make any difference—her pulse continued to pound in her throat as she spotted the motel she’d booked for the next three nights. A faded sixties’ complex, it was located on the outskirts of Marietta, its No Vacancy sign indicating they had a full house. A lot of visitors would prefer accommodation in town, she suspected, but this place was perfect for her, since it was just five minutes from the rodeo grounds.
She pulled into the driveway and parked, taking a moment to wipe her suddenly damp palms down the sides of her jeans before making her way into reception to collect her room key. Five minutes later she was driving past rows of dusty pickups, most of them plastered with bumper stickers extolling the virtues of cowboys in general and rodeos in particular. She pulled into a spot in front of her room, then got out and spent the next few minutes calming herself with the mundane act of unloading her gear.
Only when her saddle, riding gear and luggage were safely in the room did she let herself sink onto the end of the bed and flop onto her back. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she punched in a quick text home: Arrived safe and sound. All good.
Her mother’s reply was almost instant: Thanks for letting us know. Make sure you eat something and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll try to call tomorrow. xxx.
Duty done, CJ let her hand fall to her side and closed her eyes. It had been a long drive from Plentywood in the state’s northeast, but she was finally here.
This was really happening.
Her stomach gave a nervous-excited lurch and she sat up abruptly. If she stayed in this room staring at the ceiling, she was going to think too much and start second-guessing herself. Her decisions had all been made weeks ago. Now all that was left was for her to ride her best and show the world—well, Marietta, at least—what she was made of.
She went into the tiny bathroom and washed her face. Her hair was too kinked from being tied up in a ponytail to leave it down, so she tied it back up again and grabbed her car keys. There were a bunch of cowboys leaning against one of the trucks a few doors up when she exited her room, and she felt more than one of them give her the once-over as she made her way to her truck. She kept her gaze straight ahead, having learned the hard way that giving some of these rodeo-circuit cowboys even the minimal encouragement of eye contact or a polite smile was considered a resounding invitation to much more.
The last thing she needed was that kind of noise this weekend.
GPS took her to the rodeo grounds by a direct route and she parked among the scattering of other cars and trucks. This place wouldn’t get busy until tomorrow, when the rodeo kicked off, but she wanted to do a bit of re-con so she could hit the ground running. Plus she needed to pay her entry fees, and collect a schedule.
Dust kicked up from the dry gravel lot as she walked toward the low cinder block building emblazoned with a large Ticket Office sign. Behind it rose the concrete-and-steel bleachers, fresh paint gleaming in the afternoon sun. There had been a fire here not so long ago, CJ had heard, and the town had pulled together to rebuild the rodeo grounds.
From what she could see, the people of Marietta had done a great job—everything looked neat, bright and ready to accommodate the many thousands of people due to attend the Copper Mountain Rodeo this weekend.
The gate was pulled down on the ticket window, but the door marked Office was open, so CJ put on her big girl panties and went in. It was dim inside and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A middle-aged woman sat behind a high counter directly in front of her, and a doorway led into what looked like another office. The woman offered CJ a smile, her bright blue eyes friendly.
“Afternoon. How can I help you? I’m afraid if you’re after tickets they won’t be on sale until after ten tomorrow.”
“Afternoon. I’m here to pay my fees. I’m a contestant,” CJ explained.
“Wonderful. Let me just find your details.” CJ watched as the woman automatically reached for a folder marked Barrel Racing and started flicking through a series of forms. “What’s your name?”
CJ shifted her weight. “CJ Cooper. Short for Cassidy Jane. But I’m competing in saddle bronc, not barrel racing.”
“Oh.” The woman gave a long, slow blink. “Well. All right, then.”
She was frowning now, and CJ knew exactly what she was thinking. Are you allowed to do that? She’d been asked the same question half a dozen times since she’d started riding in the traditionally all-male saddle bronc competition twelve months ago.
A shadow in her peripheral vision alerted her to the fact that someone was standing in the doorway to the adjacent office. She flicked a glance toward the tall, grizzled cowboy propped there. His keen gray eyes took her in for a long, drawn-out beat, his expression inscrutable.
CJ straightened her shoulders. Here we go.
But he surprised her by stepping forward, his hand extended in greeting.
“Travis McMahon. I’m responsible for this dog and pony show,” he said in a deep rumbling baritone. His hand was rough and dry when he shook hers.
“CJ Cooper. We spoke on the phone,” she said, recognizing both his name and voice.
“We did indeed. Just wanted to welcome you on board. Good to have fresh blood,” he said.
There was no judgment in his tone, but there was reserve behind his gray eyes. No doubt he was wondering if she was up to the challenge she’d set herself.
She was, but he’d find that out soon enough.
“Thanks, appreciate it,” she said.
“Let me know if you’ve got any questions. Laurie here’ll hook you up with all the information you need.”
“I was thinking of having a bit of a walk around, if that’s okay. Get myself familiar with the layout.”
“You help yourself to whatever. Chutes are other side of the arena, opposite the bleachers. Locker rooms out the back here. Pretty proud of them—they’re part of the rebuild, so you definitely want to check them out. And you can just follow your nose to the stockyards.”
CJ smiled at the small joke. “Thanks, I will.”
She turned back to Laurie, who was waiting patiently with CJ’s paperwork.
“Is cash okay?” CJ asked.
“It certainly is,” Laurie said brightly.
They made polite chitchat while Laurie processed the transaction and offered further directions to help CJ navigate the grounds.
“Appreciate all your help, Laurie,” CJ said as she tucked her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans.
“I’ll keep an eye out for you tomorrow,” Laurie said. “Good luck.”
It wasn’t until CJ was outside in the warm afternoon sunshine that she registered how tight her shoulders were. She gave them a roll as she headed toward the bleachers. It wasn’t that she’d come here expecting resistance or trouble exactly, but she had been prepared for it.
Almost exactly a month ago now, she’d become only the second woman in the world to qualify to ride saddle bronc on the professional rodeo circuit, competing head to head with the men. She was well aware that there were plenty of people who were not cool with her ambition to ride among the best of the best. The reasons for their resistance varied. Some were merely traditionalists and didn’t like change. Others viewed women as too delicate, fragile, emotional or physically weak to take on such a demanding and dangerous sport. And yet others felt that the arrival of fierce female competitors signaled a threat to their place in the world. They were right, too—she wanted to win. She wanted to be the best, just like her fellow competitors did. The fact that they were all men and she was a woman was beside the point as far as she was concerned.
As she’d worked her way toward achieving professional status—a process that had involved accruing a certain amount of prize money at smaller, non-pro rodeos—CJ had quickly learned to ignore the looks and barely heard comments. To engage or give the doubters and haters any of her energy meant taking her eye off the prize. And there had been enough vocal supporters—as many of them men as women—who stood and cheered for her, for her to feel encouraged. She might be a curiosity to a lot of folks, but she was confident that with time she would earn their respect.
Her strategy for her first outing as a professional contestant here at Copper Mountain was simple—keep her head down and concentrate on what she wanted, what she was here for: to win.
With that goal in mind, she headed for the fancy new locker rooms Travis McMahon had mentioned, first stop on her re-con tour.
*
Guilt bit at Jesse Carmody the moment he was within the town limits of Marietta. It bit harder still when he blew past the turnoff to head west, toward the Carmody family ranch. He hadn’t seen his family in more than a year, and he knew his siblings were anticipating his arrival, especially his younger sister, Sierra, but he needed to stable his horse out at the rodeo grounds before he did anything else. He’d been on the road for nearly three hours and his sorrel gelding, Major, needed out of the combination living-quarters horse-trailer hitched to the back of his pickup.
It was as good an excuse as any to delay his arrival, he figured. And if avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of a homecoming by a few hours made him a coward…well, so be it. He could live with that.
He pulled into the rodeo grounds and did a quick survey of what he could see of the newly rebuilt arena from the truck before driving around back to where the outdoor stalls were. Major gave him an eye roll and an impatient snort as Jesse released him from the trailer, backing him down the ramp. His hand light on the leading rein, Jesse took the gelding on a few slow laps of the yard before leading him to the outdoor stall they’d been assigned. As usual, he’d made arrangements ahead of time to make sure Major’s favorite feed and familiar bedding were on hand, and he was pleased to see both in evidence. He spent twenty minutes massaging the horse’s major muscles to help dissipate any travel fatigue. Only when Major had shown interest in both water and feed did he leave his four-legged buddy, carefully shutting the gate behind him.
He smiled down into her eyes when he finally lifted his head, but after a second his smile faded.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“Nothing.”
He gave her a look. He always knew when she was upset about something. He’d always been good at reading her emotions, and he’d only gotten better as the months went by.
“Some idiot forgot the cranberry sauce.” She pointed at herself, in case he was in any doubt about who she was referring to.
“No problem,” he said easily.
“Sawyer.” She shook her head at his casual acceptance of what was clearly a culinary disaster. “This is our first time hosting Christmas dinner. I want everything to be perfect. Or at least vaguely competent.”
Austin and Lacey were coming, and her father and the woman he’d just started seeing, Donna, along with Henry and his new wife, Sally. Jenna had planned the menu for weeks. She’d even done a practice run with the stuffing. And now she’d been tripped at the last hurdle by a condiment, of all things.
“Seriously, I’ve got this covered,” he said.
She followed him into the living room and watched as he waded into the pile of gifts stacked up around the tree. An eight foot Douglas fir, it was one of Gallagher’s finest, decorated with the best of this year’s ornaments.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked.
He plucked a gift basket out of the sea of brightly wrapped presents, holding it aloft in triumph. She recognized it as the basket she’d been sent by her new boss, Ren Fletcher. She’d started at the Marietta-based law firm six months ago, and was loving every minute of it.
“Oh, you are a genius,” she said, clapping her hands together. They met at the coffee table and together they started pulling the colorful cellophane off the Christmas themed basket.
Sawyer pulled out the first jar. “Mustard.”
Jenna grabbed the second. “Tomato pickle.”
“Marmalade jam,” Sawyer said.
Jenna dug the final jar from the packing straw, ignoring the boxes of crackers and nuts. “Oh, my God.”
She turned the label toward Sawyer so he could read it. Cranberry sauce.
“Like I said, problem solved,” Sawyer said, offering her his cockiest smile.
“God, I love you,” she said.
Setting the sauce to one side, she pulled his head down for a kiss. Because he wasn’t a man to let an opportunity go to waste, Sawyer quickly deepened the kiss, and before she knew it she was on her back on the rug in front of the fire and Sawyer was sliding his hands beneath her sweater. Her insides melted as he played with her breasts, his erection pressing into her belly.
“Your sister’s going to be here to help decorate the table in twenty minutes,” she said, her hands already busy unbuckling his belt and tugging at his fly.
“I can work with that,” he said.
She pulled up her skirt, and Sawyer slid her tights and panties down. She pushed his jeans out of the way, and then he was inside her, stroking into her with the powerful intensity that drove her wild.
“Yes,” she said as he slid a hand under her backside and tilted her hips to meet each of his thrusts. “You are so good at this.”
“So are you. The best.”
“I love you. I love you so much, Sawyer.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
Her climax hit her hard and fast, arching her back and stealing her breath.
“Oh, man, Jenna,” he panted. And then he thrust inside her one last time, and she held him tight as he lost himself for a few seconds.
She laughed when he lifted his head and she saw how dazed he was. She loved that they could still feel like this way about each other after twelve months together. It boded well for the future.
Her gaze went to the solitaire diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand. Sawyer had asked her to marry him exactly one week ago, on the anniversary of the first day of her quarantine. She’d cried and laughed and said yes, then she’d jumped him on the couch where all of this had started over a fiercely competitive game of Scrabble.
They hadn’t set a date for the wedding yet, but Jenna wanted blue skies for their special day, so it was likely they’d aim for something small and intimate in May or June. They hadn’t told anyone except Lacey and Austin yet, wanting to tell their parents in person – Jenna’s father tomorrow, and Sawyer’s parents a couple of days later when they all flew down to Florida for a second Christmas celebration.
Sawyer frowned, cocking his head, and Jenna heard the distinct sound of a car engine pulling up outside.
“Shit,” she said.
Sawyer rolled off her, and Jenna looked around frantically for her panties. She found the wadded up mess of her tights and panties in the corner, and quickly gave up on the idea of being able to get back into her tights in the few seconds left to her before Lacey and Austin came barreling through the door. Disentangling her underwear, she stuffed her stockings into the kindling basket, then quickly dragged her panties up her legs. She was smoothing her skirt back into place when the door opened, and she shot a quick glance at Sawyer and saw he was buckling his belt.
“We’re here, and we’re on time. Don’t anybody faint,” Lacey announced.
Austin filled the doorway behind her, a box in his arms.
“Hey. Great. Perfect timing,” Jenna said brightly.
Lacey’s eyes got squinty and her gaze travelled from Jenna’s bare legs to her rumpled sweater to her mussed hair before she switched her focus to her brother, who was looking equally mussed.
“Come on. What if we’d been early?” Lacey complained. “Do you know how much therapy I’d need to scrub out the image of my brother and my lawyer doing the wild thing on the living room floor? On Grammy Gallagher’s rug, no less?”
“To be fair, I’m not your lawyer anymore.” Jenna reminded her.
She hadn’t been Lacey’s lawyer since Lacey’s guilty verdict had been officially overturned at the request of the DA last January, saving them the expense and anxiety of going to retrial. Jenna had never been happier to lose a client in her life.
Lacey had bloomed since she’d been declared an innocent woman. In a few more months, she’d have her certification back to drive the big diesel trains she loved so much, and she and Austin had just put a down payment on some land backing onto the national forest. It had been a hard road, but Lacey had reclaimed her life.
“Maybe this will teach you to knock,” Sawyer said. “Jenna and I don’t barge into your place without knocking.”
“I grew up in this house,” Lacey reminded him.
“Fine. But don’t say you weren’t warned,” Sawyer said, grinning. “Next time Jenna and I won’t rush.”
“We could definitely learn to knock,” Austin said in his low-key, laconic way.
Lacey and Sawyer continued to argue the point as the four of them pulled out the extra leafs on the kitchen table and began to set the table for tomorrow. Jenna exchanged a few amused glances with Austin, but mostly she just enjoyed the show.
For too many years, she’d had no family to speak of, and now she was a part of this noisy, rowdy warmth. She had Sawyer by her side, and soon they were going to be married. And who knew, maybe – if they were lucky – there would be more family to love in the next few years, and this battered old table would have some high chairs ranged around it on future Christmas Days.
Whatever happened, she knew one thing for certain – Sawyer would be with her every step of the way.
The End
More by Sarah Mayberry
The Carmody Brothers
Book 1: The Cowboy Meets His Match
Buy now!
Book 2: The Rebel and the Cowboy
Buy now!
Book 3: Coming soon!
Enjoy an excerpt from
The Cowboy Meets His Match
Sarah Mayberry
Book 1 in the Carmody Brother series
Keep reading below or buy now!
Cassidy Jane Cooper sat a little straighter behind the wheel as she spotted the sign on the side of the highway. “Welcome to Marietta, Montana, home of the Copper Mountain Rodeo.” Her pickup sped past the tall billboard and the knowledge that she was only minutes from her destination sent her heart into overdrive.
Dumbass, she told herself. No point getting wound up yet. Save it for tomorrow.
It didn’t make any difference—her pulse continued to pound in her throat as she spotted the motel she’d booked for the next three nights. A faded sixties’ complex, it was located on the outskirts of Marietta, its No Vacancy sign indicating they had a full house. A lot of visitors would prefer accommodation in town, she suspected, but this place was perfect for her, since it was just five minutes from the rodeo grounds.
She pulled into the driveway and parked, taking a moment to wipe her suddenly damp palms down the sides of her jeans before making her way into reception to collect her room key. Five minutes later she was driving past rows of dusty pickups, most of them plastered with bumper stickers extolling the virtues of cowboys in general and rodeos in particular. She pulled into a spot in front of her room, then got out and spent the next few minutes calming herself with the mundane act of unloading her gear.
Only when her saddle, riding gear and luggage were safely in the room did she let herself sink onto the end of the bed and flop onto her back. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she punched in a quick text home: Arrived safe and sound. All good.
Her mother’s reply was almost instant: Thanks for letting us know. Make sure you eat something and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll try to call tomorrow. xxx.
Duty done, CJ let her hand fall to her side and closed her eyes. It had been a long drive from Plentywood in the state’s northeast, but she was finally here.
This was really happening.
Her stomach gave a nervous-excited lurch and she sat up abruptly. If she stayed in this room staring at the ceiling, she was going to think too much and start second-guessing herself. Her decisions had all been made weeks ago. Now all that was left was for her to ride her best and show the world—well, Marietta, at least—what she was made of.
She went into the tiny bathroom and washed her face. Her hair was too kinked from being tied up in a ponytail to leave it down, so she tied it back up again and grabbed her car keys. There were a bunch of cowboys leaning against one of the trucks a few doors up when she exited her room, and she felt more than one of them give her the once-over as she made her way to her truck. She kept her gaze straight ahead, having learned the hard way that giving some of these rodeo-circuit cowboys even the minimal encouragement of eye contact or a polite smile was considered a resounding invitation to much more.
The last thing she needed was that kind of noise this weekend.
GPS took her to the rodeo grounds by a direct route and she parked among the scattering of other cars and trucks. This place wouldn’t get busy until tomorrow, when the rodeo kicked off, but she wanted to do a bit of re-con so she could hit the ground running. Plus she needed to pay her entry fees, and collect a schedule.
Dust kicked up from the dry gravel lot as she walked toward the low cinder block building emblazoned with a large Ticket Office sign. Behind it rose the concrete-and-steel bleachers, fresh paint gleaming in the afternoon sun. There had been a fire here not so long ago, CJ had heard, and the town had pulled together to rebuild the rodeo grounds.
From what she could see, the people of Marietta had done a great job—everything looked neat, bright and ready to accommodate the many thousands of people due to attend the Copper Mountain Rodeo this weekend.
The gate was pulled down on the ticket window, but the door marked Office was open, so CJ put on her big girl panties and went in. It was dim inside and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A middle-aged woman sat behind a high counter directly in front of her, and a doorway led into what looked like another office. The woman offered CJ a smile, her bright blue eyes friendly.
“Afternoon. How can I help you? I’m afraid if you’re after tickets they won’t be on sale until after ten tomorrow.”
“Afternoon. I’m here to pay my fees. I’m a contestant,” CJ explained.
“Wonderful. Let me just find your details.” CJ watched as the woman automatically reached for a folder marked Barrel Racing and started flicking through a series of forms. “What’s your name?”
CJ shifted her weight. “CJ Cooper. Short for Cassidy Jane. But I’m competing in saddle bronc, not barrel racing.”
“Oh.” The woman gave a long, slow blink. “Well. All right, then.”
She was frowning now, and CJ knew exactly what she was thinking. Are you allowed to do that? She’d been asked the same question half a dozen times since she’d started riding in the traditionally all-male saddle bronc competition twelve months ago.
A shadow in her peripheral vision alerted her to the fact that someone was standing in the doorway to the adjacent office. She flicked a glance toward the tall, grizzled cowboy propped there. His keen gray eyes took her in for a long, drawn-out beat, his expression inscrutable.
CJ straightened her shoulders. Here we go.
But he surprised her by stepping forward, his hand extended in greeting.
“Travis McMahon. I’m responsible for this dog and pony show,” he said in a deep rumbling baritone. His hand was rough and dry when he shook hers.
“CJ Cooper. We spoke on the phone,” she said, recognizing both his name and voice.
“We did indeed. Just wanted to welcome you on board. Good to have fresh blood,” he said.
There was no judgment in his tone, but there was reserve behind his gray eyes. No doubt he was wondering if she was up to the challenge she’d set herself.
She was, but he’d find that out soon enough.
“Thanks, appreciate it,” she said.
“Let me know if you’ve got any questions. Laurie here’ll hook you up with all the information you need.”
“I was thinking of having a bit of a walk around, if that’s okay. Get myself familiar with the layout.”
“You help yourself to whatever. Chutes are other side of the arena, opposite the bleachers. Locker rooms out the back here. Pretty proud of them—they’re part of the rebuild, so you definitely want to check them out. And you can just follow your nose to the stockyards.”
CJ smiled at the small joke. “Thanks, I will.”
She turned back to Laurie, who was waiting patiently with CJ’s paperwork.
“Is cash okay?” CJ asked.
“It certainly is,” Laurie said brightly.
They made polite chitchat while Laurie processed the transaction and offered further directions to help CJ navigate the grounds.
“Appreciate all your help, Laurie,” CJ said as she tucked her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans.
“I’ll keep an eye out for you tomorrow,” Laurie said. “Good luck.”
It wasn’t until CJ was outside in the warm afternoon sunshine that she registered how tight her shoulders were. She gave them a roll as she headed toward the bleachers. It wasn’t that she’d come here expecting resistance or trouble exactly, but she had been prepared for it.
Almost exactly a month ago now, she’d become only the second woman in the world to qualify to ride saddle bronc on the professional rodeo circuit, competing head to head with the men. She was well aware that there were plenty of people who were not cool with her ambition to ride among the best of the best. The reasons for their resistance varied. Some were merely traditionalists and didn’t like change. Others viewed women as too delicate, fragile, emotional or physically weak to take on such a demanding and dangerous sport. And yet others felt that the arrival of fierce female competitors signaled a threat to their place in the world. They were right, too—she wanted to win. She wanted to be the best, just like her fellow competitors did. The fact that they were all men and she was a woman was beside the point as far as she was concerned.
As she’d worked her way toward achieving professional status—a process that had involved accruing a certain amount of prize money at smaller, non-pro rodeos—CJ had quickly learned to ignore the looks and barely heard comments. To engage or give the doubters and haters any of her energy meant taking her eye off the prize. And there had been enough vocal supporters—as many of them men as women—who stood and cheered for her, for her to feel encouraged. She might be a curiosity to a lot of folks, but she was confident that with time she would earn their respect.
Her strategy for her first outing as a professional contestant here at Copper Mountain was simple—keep her head down and concentrate on what she wanted, what she was here for: to win.
With that goal in mind, she headed for the fancy new locker rooms Travis McMahon had mentioned, first stop on her re-con tour.
*
Guilt bit at Jesse Carmody the moment he was within the town limits of Marietta. It bit harder still when he blew past the turnoff to head west, toward the Carmody family ranch. He hadn’t seen his family in more than a year, and he knew his siblings were anticipating his arrival, especially his younger sister, Sierra, but he needed to stable his horse out at the rodeo grounds before he did anything else. He’d been on the road for nearly three hours and his sorrel gelding, Major, needed out of the combination living-quarters horse-trailer hitched to the back of his pickup.
It was as good an excuse as any to delay his arrival, he figured. And if avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of a homecoming by a few hours made him a coward…well, so be it. He could live with that.
He pulled into the rodeo grounds and did a quick survey of what he could see of the newly rebuilt arena from the truck before driving around back to where the outdoor stalls were. Major gave him an eye roll and an impatient snort as Jesse released him from the trailer, backing him down the ramp. His hand light on the leading rein, Jesse took the gelding on a few slow laps of the yard before leading him to the outdoor stall they’d been assigned. As usual, he’d made arrangements ahead of time to make sure Major’s favorite feed and familiar bedding were on hand, and he was pleased to see both in evidence. He spent twenty minutes massaging the horse’s major muscles to help dissipate any travel fatigue. Only when Major had shown interest in both water and feed did he leave his four-legged buddy, carefully shutting the gate behind him.
