Rodeo Romance Book 6
A Sweet Contemporary Holiday Romance
by
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
SHANNA HATFIELD
Racing Christmas
(Rodeo Romance Series, Book 6)
Copyright © 2018 by Shanna Hatfield
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For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of “permission request” at the email address below or through her website.
Shanna Hatfield
[email protected]
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Shanna Hatfield
To those who learn the fine art
of forgiveness…
Chapter One
“You’re going to rock this crowd, Rocket,” Brylee Barton assured her horse as he walked around the perimeter of the practice area behind the rodeo arena.
The horse bobbed his head, as though in agreement.
She laughed, aware he didn’t understand what she said, but pretending he did. She patted the dapple gray’s neck. “You are such a ham.”
Brylee urged Rocket into an easy lope. As soon as the last steer wrestler entered the arena, it would be time for her to line up for barrel racing — an event she fully intended to win.
Evening had arrived, yet it failed to dispel the sticky July heat in this small Idaho town, similar to dozens of others she’d been in over the course of the last month. In a little more than four weeks, she’d traveled almost two thousand miles to rodeos. She’d competed in several Northwestern states, hustled to Canada for two rodeos, then traveled across the Midwest. Now she was making her way back through the Northwest. On a winning streak, she’d placed at all but two of the rodeos she’d entered, and walked away the winner at seven of them.
This evening’s performance was the conclusion of a three-day rodeo. She’d ridden Thursday and claimed a spot in the final go-round. She planned to leave as the winner.
It had taken her five years to make a comeback as a professional barrel racer and she had every intention of earning the world championship title in December. More than just bragging rights were on the line, and nothing would stop her from trying to win.
A boom of thunder followed by a streak of lightening spooked Rocket, but Brylee kept a firm hand on the reins and continued loping him around the practice arena.
“Are you two ready for this?” a raven-haired woman asked as she rode up beside Rocket.
Brylee grinned at her friend. “As ready as I can be, Savannah. How about you and Rainbow? Are you gonna give me a run for my money?”
Savannah laughed and patted the neck of her mare. “You know we’ll try, but you are the turn and burn queen.” The young woman glanced up at the sky as thunder cracked overhead followed by another bright bolt of lightning.
Fat raindrops began to fall, slightly cooling the heavy air, but making it even more humid than it had been.
“This isn’t going to be good,” Savannah said, turning with Brylee as they made their way toward a shelter near the stable.
“No, it won’t be. That arena will be a sloppy mess before long.” Brylee frowned as she stared at the darkening sky. The rain was still falling gently. Maybe it would be a brief storm that quickly passed.
Another boom of thunder sounded before a blinding flash of lightning looked like it might strike the flagpole outside the arena. It barely missed, but left her blinking her eyes in shock.
“That’s entirely too close for comfort,” Savannah said, trying to keep Rainbow in line as the horse pranced and tossed her head. “Just calm down, girl. Everything is fine.”
“Yes, it is,” Brylee echoed, rubbing Rocket’s neck. She needed to convince herself of it as much as she did the horse or Savannah. Since she wasn’t going to ride first in the event, she worried about the condition of the arena. All she could do was hope the crew raking dirt around the barrels did a good job between rides and the rainstorm held off until she and Rocket made their run.
“Let’s give a hand to our winner in the steer wrestling, folks! That young man is going places!” The rodeo announcer’s resonant voice carried over the crowd and through the storm.
“Come on. Let’s get lined up. They’ll move things along quickly with this rain,” Savannah said, tugging down her black hat inlayed with turquoise and detailed embroidery all around the brim.
Brylee thought her friend could have had a lucrative career as a model. Savannah was tall, generously curved, and gorgeous with long black tresses, perfect skin, and eyes nearly as dark as her hair. The woman always looked amazing and today was no exception. Her turquoise sequined shirt glittered in the lights that had kicked on around the arena. Even her horse appeared flashy with a turquoise saddle pad and matching sports boots.
While some barrel racers looked as though they competed in a beauty contest, Brylee had no time nor interest in such things. Not now. Not when so much rode on her success.
She did keep Rocket groomed within an inch of his patience as he endured the ministrations. He always looked sharp when they raced. Primarily, she stuck with black as her color choice for her gear, from her saddle to his boots, and even the breast collar. All that black, accented with silver, looked fantastic against his gray-flecked coloring and black mane.
Rather than worry about having the most stylish outfit, best hair, or flawless makeup, Brylee spent extra time working with Rocket and improving her riding skills. Oh, she made a little effort to not look like a clueless bumpkin. However, compared to some of the girls who were magazine cover-worthy, she might have felt plain and average, if she let it bother her. Most of the time it didn’t.
What she lacked in cosmetic interests, Brylee made up for with her ability to ride.
“I have to tell you, folks, you are in for a treat with the lovely ladies racing the barrels tonight. What a great group of talented women. And they are all purty to boot,” the announcer said. “First up is a gal who’s made a great showing for her rookie year. Let’s welcome…”
Brylee tuned out the announcer. Tuned out the crowd. Tuned out everything as she shifted her thoughts to the pattern of the barrels inside the arena.
She and Rocket had run the cloverleaf hundreds and hundreds of times. Regulations stated they had to take either two right turns and one left or one right and two left. Brylee had experimented with the options and found she and Rocket performed best when they rode into the arena and took a right turn around the right barrel then followed with a left around the left barrel and another left around the center barrel. By the time he came out of the pocket on the third barrel, Rocket would lengthen his long stride and shoot across the arena.
As the women in front of her competed, Brylee closed her eyes and envisioned riding through the pattern. In her mind’s eye she pictur
ed each turn, the tightness of the pockets around every barrel, and how she’d stay centered in the saddle.
While she waited for her turn, rain poured down like the skies had broken open, plastering her shirt against her back and soaking through her jeans. She brushed her hand along Rocket’s neck to calm them both and watched Savannah plunge ahead for her ride.
Although she cheered for her friend, Brylee purposely avoided listening to her score. She didn’t want to know how anyone else had done, how well she needed to do to win. It messed with her ability to focus when she started worrying about beating someone else’s time.
When Savannah rode past her, Brylee gave her a high-five and then moved up in position. She was next.
“We’ve got this, Rocket. You know what to do, buddy.” Brylee leaned forward and rubbed his neck then sat back and mentally centered herself as the announcer began her introduction.
“For those of you who’ve not yet had the privilege of watching this amazing lady, you are in for a treat. Brylee Barton made it twice to the national finals before taking some time off. She’s back now and better than ever. This lil’ gal can show you a thing or two about balance and training a horse. Speaking of horses, she’s riding Christmas Jolly Rocket, better known as Rocket. He’s a ten-year-old gelding she raised and trained from the day he was born. And he’s a beaut to boot. Let’s give a big welcome to Miss Brylee Barton from Walla Walla, Washington!”
Amid the cheers from the crowd in the stands, Brylee made three quick kissing sounds. Rocket raced into the arena and veered toward the barrel on their right.
“Look at that gal ride, folks. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Miss Brylee is one of the best when it comes to staying glued to the saddle and maintaining balance,” the announcer said as Brylee and Rocket made it around the first barrel.
The ground felt soft and slick as Rocket sped across the arena toward the next barrel. Brylee kept her focus on the pocket around the barrel instead of staring directly at the barrel. She’d learned years ago when she centered on the barrel, they’d invariably knock it over, adding five seconds to her score. By keeping her attention in the space around it, where she pictured Rocket turning, it helped them make the turn without a penalty.
“This might just be the winning ride of the night, folks! Watch this lady go!” the announcer cheered. “Talk about turning and burning. If rain wasn’t pelting down like a hose turned loose from a fire hydrant, there’d be flames shooting out behind her.”
The announcer was right about the rain. Torrential sheets of it started pouring from the skies, making it hard to see. Rocket struggled to get a firm foothold in the arena dirt that rapidly morphed into mud.
They reached the third barrel and Brylee breathed a sigh of relief. Rocket had just moved into the turn when he suddenly lost his footing. He twisted his big body as he went down, sliding through the mud into the fence behind them. Pain pierced her leg and stole her breath when she collided with a fence post. Rocket thrashed and squirmed, attempting to get to his feet.
Instinctively, Brylee tried to roll out of the way. However, her right foot was trapped in the fence and her left remained caught beneath the horse. She felt as though she was being sucked down in the mud with no hope of escape.
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed as Rocket continued to kick his legs, desperate to get away from the fence. Thankfully, her leg came free of the stirrup when he stood. Rocket tossed his head, trembling with fear, before he raced across the arena.
“Thank you, Lord, for keeping me alive and my horse safe,” she whispered.
Brylee opened her eyes and tipped her head back, watching as the pickup men rode into the arena. One went to catch Rocket while the other hastened her direction. The announcer and the clown told a joke as the medical team hustled toward her as fast as they could make it through the mud.
Frustration battled with anger as the pickup man approached. The last person on earth she wanted to see was that particular member of the male species.
“Maybe today would be a good day to die,” she muttered as she tried again to disentangle her foot from the fence. If she freed it before he reached her, she could crawl over the fence and make her way back to her trailer without speaking to him.
Why couldn’t he have gone on ignoring her like he had the last five and half years? Why tonight, of all nights, was he going to force her to acknowledge him? Didn’t she have enough to deal with, like missing her opportunity to claim the winning title? Or the undeniable fact she looked like a half-drowned kitten that had been dragged through a pig wallow?
She thought of her wasted entry fee. Not to mention the hours it would take to get all the mud scrubbed off Rocket and her tack.
Wasn’t a no-score enough punishment without being forced to face the most arrogant, self-centered, childish man she’d ever known?
Trapped on her back in the mud, it seeped through her clothes, chilling her and making her fight the need to shiver. She questioned how she could exit the arena with even a shred of dignity when her pants oozed soupy muck like a toddler’s soggy diaper.
The slap of boots hitting the mud in the arena drew her gaze upward. A handsome face appeared above her as the pickup man leaned over her. Gray-blue eyes twinkled behind thick lashes and a smile full of even, white teeth gleamed in the arena lights. Shaun Price braced his gloved hands on his thighs and offered her an infuriatingly cocky grin.
Why couldn’t she have at least passed out and awakened far away from the infuriating, irritating, Adonis-like cowboy?
“Well, Bitsy, I see you’re still racing Christmas,” he said, his voice sounding as deep and rich as she remembered.
Brylee glowered at him. “You know I hate that name.”
“Yep, I sure do.” Shaun chuckled and stepped back as the medics surrounded her.
Chapter Two
“Have you talked to Brylee yet?” Jason Price questioned his son as they waited behind the chutes during the barrel racing event. As soon as it ended, they’d ride back into the arena and get ready for the bull riding to begin.
As pickup men for the Rockin’ K Rodeo Company, the contractor providing animals for the rodeo, Jason and Shaun spent a good part of the day sorting stock for each event. During the rough stock events they remained in the arena to help get the riders safely off bucking animals and then move the animals out of the arena. After the rodeo ended, they’d be busy loading animals to transport back to the Rockin’ K Ranch. There, they’d pick up a new batch of animal athletes and then be on the road to start the process all over again.
And they both loved every minute of it.
Shaun removed his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his thick copper-colored hair before settling the hat back in place. “No, Dad, I haven’t. I don’t think she’d like it if I tried.”
Jason raised an eyebrow and gave his son a pointed look. “That’s what you get for going around breaking hearts right and left. You had to know at some point that would come back around and bite you right on the…”
“I get it, Dad. I do.” Shaun scowled at his father. “But Brylee’s different. She’s old history that’s so far under the bridge, it’s never coming back upstream.”
Jason shrugged then reached out and slapped Shaun on the back. “Have I mentioned how glad I am to have you working with me?”
Shaun grinned at his father. “Only about a million times in the last four months.” He settled a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “I’m glad to be working with you, too. If Uncle Galen hadn’t decided to retire as your pickup partner, I don’t know what I would have done with myself. When the doctors told me it was either give up bareback riding or end up crippled for life, I didn’t feel like I had a lot of choices.”
Jason nodded. “I know, son. Your uncle had wanted to retire for quite a while, so it worked out great for you to take his place once you healed up from that last wreck.”
Shaun rubbed a hand over the bone that he’d broken not once, but twice within six mont
hs. The thought of being permanently crippled was enough to make him give up a career he enjoyed, but he really did love working as a pickup man. It was still physically demanding, but the odds of getting trampled and breaking something were in his favor instead of constantly against him.
“There she is,” Jason said, pointing to a blond-haired woman on a big dapple gray horse waiting just outside the gate where the barrel racers entered and exited the arena.
Shaun allowed himself a moment to study Brylee Barton. From this distance, he could see she looked as trim and fit as she had six years ago when he’d first lost his heart to her. They’d been on fire in their careers and for each other that summer. But they’d both moved on. At least he thought he had.
In truth, he’d often thought of Brylee over the years, especially when she seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. After taking the barrel racing world championship title her first year at the finals, she should have earned it the second year, but he supposed he was partly to blame for her finishing in third place.
By the time rodeo season headed into full swing the following year, no one had seen Brylee since the finals in Las Vegas. Then one year rolled into two, and here it was, five and a half years later.
He’d heard she was back on the circuit and making a name for herself again. He’d even seen her at a rodeo last month, but he’d been so busy with his work, he hadn’t found a spare minute to talk to her. Or at least that’s what he told himself as he watched her sit with beauty and grace on the back of her horse.
“That girl always could outride anyone,” Jason said, pointing toward Brylee again. “You ever hear why she dropped out of rodeo for a while?”
Shaun shook his head, determined to keep his thoughts to himself. The unwelcoming churning in his gut assured him he had played a part in her quitting the business and turning into a mysterious recluse.
He looked away from Brylee, away from the past and memories he’d rather not shake loose. They’d been strong-armed into the far reaches of his mind and he planned to keep them there. “I haven’t heard anything, Dad. I don’t think it’s something she wants to talk about, otherwise everyone would know.”
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