traveling with us, our luck will change.” He stood, went to the sink and rinsed his bowl and spoon. “I’ll see you later.”
Channing stared after him for the longest time, not entirely understanding what had happened, or if anything had changed.
Chapter Seven
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T he afternoon was scorching hot in the rodeo stands. Channing had coated her bare arms with sunscreen and was glad her lightweight and light-colored cowboy hat deflected the worst of the sun’s rays and allowed the slightest breeze through the finely woven straw to cool her head.
She sipped her iced tea and shifted, yanking down her yellow skirt. Her legs stuck to the wool blanket she sat on, but it was better than the back of her thighs getting seared like raw steaks by the metal bleacher seats.
Edgard, Trevor and Colby had paid their entry fees, pinned their numbers to their backs and gone off to prepare to rodeo, leaving her free to explore the grounds before the action started. Since she didn’t know any of the wives or girlfriends on the circuit, she had no choice but to sit by herself.
The rodeo announcer’s voice boomed from the loudspeakers. “Next up in saddle bronc riding is Colby McKay, the Wyoming cowboy from Sundance. Colby is currently ranked eighth in saddle bronc riding competition in the Mountain and Plains Circuit, with 8,712 cumulative points. He’s also in the number two position this week in the All-Around standings. Ooh, and looky here, rodeo fans, Colby’s draw today is the three-year-old named Elway, a bronc from the Sutliff Rodeo Stock Company out of Livingston, Colorado.”
Channing focused the binoculars on the chutes across the arena. The gatekeeper waited in front of the metal gate, rope in hand, watching for Colby’s signal. From this distance the only thing she could see was the top of Colby’s brown cowboy hat. Then his free arm flew up, the gate opened and out he came, holding on for dear life as Elway tried like hell to buck him off.
But Colby was beautiful, sheer poetry in motion as he dipped and glided with every hop and bounce of the horse. His feet spurring, the red metallic fringe on his chaps fluttering. His counter movements were synchronized, almost as if he sensed what direction Elway planned to go before the horse himself even knew.
Colby stayed on the full eight seconds. He untied his hand and launched himself onto the pickup man’s horse, just as smooth as if he’d done it a million times.
Not a million, but thousands, and that probably wasn’t much of an exaggeration. The crowd applauded. Colby waved his hat in acknowledgment as he sauntered back to the holding pens, squinting at the scoreboard, studying his ride on the big screen.
Channing held her breath and waited for the score—half for the horse’s performance, half for the rider’s. Finally a red 78 flashed to another smattering of applause and the next rider was announced.
The score put Colby in second place. As he was the sixth rider out of twenty, there was a good chance he’d get knocked down even farther in the standings. With this being a one-day rodeo, he had no chance to return tomorrow for a second go-round and the short go directly after that. Only the top five finished in the money.
She knew he wouldn’t dwell on his performance. Unlike the other competitors, he wasn’t finished with his events. He still had to compete in tie-down roping and bull riding. Trevor and Edgard both competed in tie-down roping but not bull riding.
Although bull riding tended to be the most exciting part of rodeo, it was also the most dangerous. Colby wore the required protective vest that would shield him from getting gored by the bull’s horns, but that was it.
Why hadn’t the potential dangers bothered her when she watched Jared ride?
She dug out her notebook and jotted down her observations as she waited through the other events, bareback riding, steer wrestling—also known as bulldogging —and the event Trevor and Edgard were
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