Falling for the Cowgirl

by Tina Radcliffe

  AJ pushed Ace to a trot and then a full gallop, moving around on the left and taking the man on that side by surprise. When the rustler looked up and reached out to grab Ace, she stretched out her boot and kept moving. He fell with a thud.

  “Way to go, AJ,” Dutch called. “I hear sirens.”

  The two-man Timber police force drove across the pasture, bumping over the landscape. The white SUV moved up and down like a cart on a roller-coaster ride.

  “So who do we have here?” Chief Daniels asked as he opened his door.

  “Looks to me like Rafe Diego and his cousin Marco cattle rustling,” Travis said. “Can’t be sure with their faces in the dust.”

  Rafe raised his head and spit out dirt. “We weren’t stealing cattle. It was a prank. Jace McAlester offered us quick cash to move them somewhere else on your ranch.” He pointed to the truck. “That’s not even my truck.”

  “You cut my fence,” Travis noted, his voice cold and flat.

  “I’ll pay for the damages.” Rafe began to stand.

  “Stay right where you are,” Chief Daniels bellowed. He nodded to his deputy, who frisked each man.

  “So this was a practical joke, huh?” Travis shook his head. “I’m not laughing, Diego. And looks to me like you aren’t, either. But I imagine McAlester is.”

  “I trust you’re going to press charges, Travis,” the chief said.

  “What’s the penalty for cattle rustling?” Travis asked.

  “The law says fines of three times the value of cattle, and up to fifteen years in prison.”

  Rafe’s jaw sagged.

  “Up to three times the value of the cattle, huh?” Travis looked at Diego.

  “They don’t make cowboys like they used to,” Dutch added with a shake of his head. “In my day, they’d string you up for violating the law of the land.”

  “Yeah, but here at Big Heart Ranch, we’re all about second chances. Technically this is only attempted rustling and, as it happens, I’m feeling benevolent.” Travis pushed back his hat and rubbed the dark shadow of beard on his face. “How long can you hold them before I make a decision?”

  “You know, Travis. It’s the weekend. The wheels of justice move mighty slow on the weekend,” the chief said.

  “Good. I’ll let you know if I’m going to press charges on Monday.”

  “Monday!” Rafe said.

  “Yeah. Sure beats fifteen years in prison, doesn’t it? Sadly, though, you’re going to miss the bronc competition.”

  “That is a shame.” The chief nodded.

  “Real shame,” Dutch chimed in.

  “I leave them in your hands, Chief. Thanks for coming out.”

  Chief Daniels nodded and his deputy pointed Rafe and Marco to the police cruiser. “We’ll process the crime scene and then you can have your cattle back.”

  AJ nudged Ace forward. “How can we help, Chief Daniels?”

  “We’ll need to count ’em.”

  “Dutch and I will assist,” she said.

  He tipped his hat. “Thank you, ma’am. Then we all can get back to preparing for the rodeo.”

  AJ glanced at Rafe Diego and his cousin. She almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

  * * *

  Travis paused to listen as the announcer’s voice boomed overhead.

  “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the twenty-fourth annual Timber Rodeo. Timber, Oklahoma, is the home of the Timber triple berry pie. Stop by the Timber Diner today to order yours.”

  The crowd hooted and howled, drowning out the Timber band. Travis grinned at the enthusiasm. The citizens of Timber loved their rodeo. As they should. After all, the Timber Rodeo was the single biggest event in the town next to the annual Christmas parade.

  Travis jumped up on the fence to watch as the grand entry began with trick riders carrying flags around the arena as the spectators cheered.

  “‘God Bless America,’ everyone. Please stand for the national anthem.”

  The end of the national anthem marked the official start of the rodeo and the roar of the crowd swelled even louder.

  “Ladies’ barrel racing event is first up to the ground, and have we got a treat for you. A hometown cowgirl, Miss Amanda Jane Rowe—a former Women’s Pro Rodeo Association finalist—joins us. Rowe represents Big Heart Ranch, where she’s assistant foreman. That’s right folks, assistant foreman. Today she’s riding Bess.”

  “Say what?” Travis said aloud. AJ had never mentioned the WPRA. And he’d been pushing her like she was an amateur.

  He shook his head and glanced around at the crowd. The bleachers were filled to capacity and the crowd cheered enthusiastically as AJ and Bess galloped into the arena.

  Travis leaned forward on the fence to watch, his heart thrumming as horse and rider sped around the first barrel. Bess leaned into the pattern. The fringe on AJ’s chaps fluttered as she sped like the wind around the next barrel. The horse led as they sailed around the third barrel and raced back to the starting point.

  “Whoa, that was some ride. Wasn’t it, folks?” the announcer called. “Ladies and gentlemen, thirteen point sixty-eight for Amanda Jane Rowe.”

  The fans in the bleachers stomped their feet, elated with her showing.

  Travis tensed, his hands gripping the fence as the other barrel racers competed. After each performance, his eye went to the clock. AJ remained at the top of the leader board.

  When the winner was called, his fist shot into the air.

  AJ won. AJ won! He was beyond elated.

  When she appeared in the arena with the winner’s buckle held high and a wave to the crowd, they cheered and hollered with approval.

  Somehow AJ’s gaze found him in the crowd and she smiled, catching him and his heart off guard. He offered a thumbs-up before jumping down from the fence and jogging around the arena to find her.

  Outside the stalls in the stable walkway, AJ stood, getting her picture taken and being interviewed by the Timber Independence. A line had formed with reporters from the Pawhuska Journal-Capital and even the Tulsa World ready to interview the winner.

  When AJ saw him, she broke free and approached him, her gaze almost shy as it met his.

  “Not all about winning, huh?” He took the show box with her prize-winning buckle and examined it from all angles before he wrapped an arm around her and gave her a hug. “Congratulations. You did Big Heart Ranch proud.”

  “Thanks, Travis.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me you were a WPRA finalist?”

  AJ shrugged. “And relive my glory days when I was fresh out of college? I don’t think so. That was a very long time ago.”

  “Most cowboys retell their rodeo tales over and over.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  “Looks like you’re a star.” He nodded to the reporters who waited anxiously.

  “They can wait a minute longer.” She glanced down at the buckle in the box in her hands. “Thanks for the chaps.”

  “Oh, that was my sisters.”

  Her face fell. “You signed the card.”

  “It was me who told them no pink.”

  AJ smiled and ran a hand over the leather fringe. “I appreciate that.”

  “You look like the cover of Cowgirl magazine today.”

  A soft, sweet laugh slipped from her lips and wrapped around him. “Oh, no. Not me. You’re the one who does magazine covers.”

  Travis turned to listen as the announcer called out a warning that the bronc riding event would be starting soon.

  “Uh-oh, that’s me. I better go.”

  “Jace is competing today,” she said.

  “Yeah, I saw his name on the program.”

  “You know you got this, Travis.”

  “I do, huh?” He looked deep into her blue eyes. Would he ever figure AJ out? Once minute she wa
s putting up fences between them and the next she was rooting for him.

  “Yes, you do. Bring home a win for the kids of Big Heart Ranch.”

  He winked and turned away. As he left, a petite brunette with a wide-brimmed Stetson and pink-fringed chaps sidled up to AJ. “Wasn’t that Travis Maxwell?” the other woman asked.

  Travis slowed his steps, unable to resist eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “It was,” AJ said.

  “He was on the cover of Tulsa Now.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Oh, my, my. I’ll bet that man sure looks good in a saddle.”

  “The first thing you learn about cowboys is that there are more important things than how they look in the saddle.”

  Travis chuckled. Leave it to AJ to cut right through the cow patties. He broke into a trot as he headed for the chutes.

  “Which bronc did I draw?” he asked, grabbing his saddle from the fence and hefting it over his shoulder.

  The two lanky cowboys working the chutes for the Timber Rodeo looked at each other and grinned. Travis knew he was in trouble.

  “Nightmare?”

  Their laughter reached his ears and he groaned long and loud. The horse was the complete opposite of his ranch horse Midnight. An ornery bronc with a fractious temper.

  “Are you crazy?” A too familiar voice spoke from right behind him. “Why didn’t anyone tell me you were riding?”

  Travis turned and stared down at his sister Lucy. She might be older than him, but he had her by a good six inches, which helped when he wanted to be on the intimidating end of a discussion. This was going to be one of those discussions.

  “It’s for charity, Luce,” he answered, skirting around her to grab his rosin.

  “Getting yourself killed for a charitable cause? How does that work?” Lucy Maxwell Harris adjusted the brim of her black Stetson over her dark cap of hair and met his gaze. “Someone said you can’t, so you just had to, right?”

  He bit back a grin. She knew him too well.

  “I paid the fifty-dollar entry fee, and they said I could ride one of those mean broncs. Simple as that.”

  “You haven’t done saddle bronc riding in years.”

  “Aw, come on. It’s like riding a bike.”

  “You weren’t real good at that, either, as I recall. Broken arm when we took off the training wheels. Does that ring a bell?” Lucy shook her head. “And you’re missing the point, Travis. The question here is not will you get hurt. It’s how badly.”

  “Now, Lucy. Stop fussing. I’m wearing a vest. You and I both know I’ll be fortunate to make it past the first hop out of the chute.” He pointed across the arena to where AJ was still holding court, hoping to distract his sister. “Did you see AJ win that barrel race? She’ll be on the front page of the Timber Independence on Sunday, no doubt.”

  “This is about AJ? You’re trying to best her?”

  “No, of course not. I represent Big Heart Ranch. All the other ranches are putting someone in the chute today. It’s either this or the bulls. Take your pick.”

  She put a finger in the middle of his chest. “Fine, but if you’re injured, I’m going to be very unhappy. Come Monday morning, I expect all parts of you to show up.”

  “Now don’t get yourself all worked up, Lucy. You have a bun in the oven to think about.”

  She huffed at his comment.

  Travis grinned. “Well, would you lookie there? My number is up. Time to ride.” He twirled his sister around in a bear hug, set her down and jogged to the chutes.

  Overhead, the sky was blue, the weather an agreeable seventy-three degrees as the announcer began his introductory spiel. A cowboy couldn’t ask for a more perfect day to ride.

  “And next up, representing Big Heart Ranch, is Travis Maxwell. For those of you who live in a cave, Big Heart Ranch is a local boys and girls ranch that provides a second chance to children in need. Maxwell, a former state champ saddle bronc rider, three years running, will be riding Nightmare. Let’s see how this old-timer does.”

  Old-timer! He was only thirty-three. His boots weren’t in the grave yet.

  The announcer continued on, his voice bright with the same unbridled enthusiasm that stirred in Travis as he measured his rein before he climbed down over the gate to meet his fate. He slid onto Nightmare and grabbed each stirrup with his boots, tucking in tight to both boot heels.

  “All Maxwell has to do is beat a score of eighty-five earned by Jace McAlester to ease himself into first place.”

  The crowd thrummed with excitement. Feet banged up and down on the bleachers in tune to the music.

  “This is not the first time Maxwell and McAlester have gone nose-to-nose in competition, folks. The question today is, can Maxwell pull out a winning time?”

  “Good question,” he muttered. After a silent prayer, Travis offered the go-ahead nod.

  Less than half a second later the horse turned out into the arena with Travis lifting the rein and holding on with one hand, the other hand high in the air.

  “Eight seconds,” Travis whispered through gritted teeth as his body waved mercilessly like a shaft of wheat in a storm. “Eight seconds. That’s all I’m asking, buddy. Come on, Nightmare, let’s get the rhythm. We can do this.”

  Forever passed by in slow motion until he heard the words he was waiting for. “Maxwell turns in what may very well be a winning ride on Nightmare.”

  The noise of the crowd going wild started closing in as Travis worked to dismount, and his hand caught in the leather. He slid from the saddle, awkwardly positioned between the animal and the fence. Nightmare took the opportunity to shove him against the metal bars with a resonating loud clang before kicking away, finally distracted by the rodeo clowns.

  Travis was left eating red dirt.

  “Whoa, that bronc took him to the fence hard there,” the announcer said.

  Travis spit out the dust in his mouth and rolled to his feet, struggling for a breath even as he plastered a smile on his face. The arena had become silent with tension. Everyone seemed to be waiting and watching.

  “Looks like he’s all right, folks. What a ride! Let’s give that cowboy a hand!”

  The hometown crowd roared with pleasure as Travis reached for his hat, dusted himself off and waved to the fans.

  “Congratulations to Travis Maxwell who takes first place here today with an eighty-six.”

  “Yes!” Travis pumped a fist.

  It was going to hurt like crazy to walk back into that arena and grab his prize buckle, but he’d do it and he’d do it with his head held high.

  Limping off the grounds amid more cheers, Travis kept smiling. He took a deep breath and grit his teeth, tightening his jaw against the pain, though he refused to allow the grim fact that he’d probably busted his ankle as well as bruised a couple of ribs show on his face.

  He stood, biting back pain, for the obligatory press photos and a quick word with a reporter.

  “Could this be a comeback for you, Travis?” the reporter asked.

  Travis chuckled. “No, I’m here to support the Timber community, representing Big Heart Ranch. My rodeo days are long gone.”

  “Well done, old man,” a friend called out, clapping Travis on the back as they passed each other on the narrow walkway between the arena fencing and the bleachers.

  “Thanks.” Travis laughed and immediately regretted the action. Oh, yeah. That hurt. The pain in his left ankle increased with each cautious step.

  Ahead of him, Jace McAlester stood talking to a reporter. Travis ducked around the bleachers. Last thing he needed today was a run-in with the ill-tempered cowboy.

  Chief Daniels had left a message on Travis’s phone, letting him know he’d already interviewed Jace about the cattle and he claimed to know nothing except that Diego had borrowed his truck.

 
; Yeah, the cowboy would be in a mood, especially after Travis had bested him in public yet again.

  Travis’s eyes rounded with surprise when he saw AJ waiting for him at the end of the walkway. Something about seeing her seemed right. Who else did he want to share the victory with? AJ understood rodeo, ranching and the pain of losing all that you held dear. When she stared at him, he found it difficult to hide anything.

  Standing in front of her, he put a hand on the fence and did his best to pretend he wasn’t in a whole lot of pain, hoping she hadn’t noticed he’d favored his right leg when he’d walked.

  “Nice ride,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he answered.

  No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart when AJ was near. Was he falling for the prickly cowgirl? Surely not. He wasn’t near ready for his heart to be stomped flat and kicked aside again.

  “Not too shabby for a has-been cowboy,” he added.

  “Not too bad, period.” Her fingers reached toward him and he froze as she gently plucked debris from his hair. “That’s better, but you’ve still got dirt all over your forehead,” she whispered.

  “Do I?” He raised his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve. “Better?”

  She nodded and glanced away.

  “Can I buy you a Dr Pepper or something?” Travis asked, feeling like a teenager hoping to prolong the moment with a pretty girl.

  “I’m a little old to be a buckle bunny, Travis,” she returned with a wry smile.

  “Nah. You’re never too old for that.”

  Her soft blue eyes, fringed by thick lashes, rounded as she assessed him. “You’re hurting big-time, aren’t you?”

  “Not big-time. Maybe a little.”

  “Define a little.”

  “Not so much that I wouldn’t enjoy buying you a Dr Pepper. I mean, since you don’t seem to be annoyed with me at the moment and I’m not annoyed with you anymore, either.” He paused and looked at her. “Maybe for today we could just be two people at a rodeo not annoyed with each other.”

  She laughed and favored him with a smile.

  Another wave of pain hit and he grabbed his side, bracing himself.

  “Your ribs?”