“I don’t want to compete with another woman. That’s not the kind of situation I want to be in.” I sigh. “Gigi’s a nice girl. She and I don’t exactly mesh, but I’m going to try harder.”
“You seem like you’re trying pretty hard,” Free says. “And I’m going to be rooting for you at the fair.”
“Thanks. I’m sure it will help.” I hug her goodbye. “You’re all grown up, aren’t you?”
“Lord, I hope so. But I can tell it doesn’t get any easier.”
“I wish it did.”
God, I wish it did.
75
I get to the Darcy Fairgrounds early on Saturday. I don’t want anything—traffic, crowds, or personal issues—throwing me off my mark today. I’m the first contestant here, so I go to the sign-in area and give my name. Mayor Huggins greets me warmly and wonders aloud if anybody will beat me this year.
“Somebody new perhaps?” he says. “I don’t think any of our regulars stand a chance against you, Ms. Henwood.”
I thank him, but inside I’m trembling. Because if ever there were a year to beat me, it’s this one. I’m distracted, plus I’ve made the contest personal, two of the worst things a shooter can do.
As current champion, I have the honor of shooting last.
When it’s Gigi’s turn, I stand alone and watch. Logan and Blake are here with Luke and Brayden from Montana, and I see Gigi’s parents next to Logan. Gigi’s got a whole section of fans as well. Some hold up signs saying “Darcy’s True Heroine—Go Gigi” and “Gigi—The Woman to Free Jane.”
Ginny and Dave are next to my family, and Ginny waves to me and gives me a thumbs-up.
An entire row of the crowd is made up of reporters. I roll my eyes when I see Skip and Jon lurking with a camera and ever-eager smiles.
Gigi giggles at the crowd and then gets serious. I prepare myself for what I witnessed at The Cowherd the other day, but turns out I didn’t have to worry after all.
Gigi doesn’t shoot today like she did then. She shoots like an amateur. She misses more than she hits, and she’s so pissed off about it. She whines and complains about the shotgun and the targets and the sun in her eyes. It’s like she’s never lost anything before in her life. I go over to offer a few words of comfort, and then I go use the restrooms inside the white one-story building near the 4-H club.
When I leave the bathroom a few minutes later, I bump into Logan texting on his phone.
He startles when he sees me.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I go to move past him, but he reaches out and catches my wrist.
And time stops. I can’t stop looking into his eyes, which seem to want to tell me something. I step closer and put my hand on his bicep as my pulse races. I forget we’re in a public place and that prying eyes can see everything. I forget that I’m touching a man who’s spoken for, and honestly, I don’t really care right now.
Logan’s hand goes around the small of my back as he leans down and says into my hair, “Good luck today, Macey. You always had the best shot. Still do.” Then, he stands up straight, pulls back from me, and walks away.
Everyone’s having an off day for some reason. Must be part of Gigi’s mojo because by the time it’s my turn, Gigi actually has a chance to place in the top tier. If I don’t.
Ginny cheers loudly when Mayor Huggins announces my name, and Mama gives me the thumbs-up and a big wink that she thinks only I will see.
I pick up my gun and walk to the first mark. I aim, cock, release the safety, and shoot a perfect shot. Gigi oohs and aahs along with everybody else. I do it again, and by the time a half hour is up, Mayor Huggins presents me with the trophy. With a shake of his head, he says he might as well give me the trophy for next year a year early because nobody “can hit a target like Austen Macey Henwood.”
I look for Logan, but all I can see is his back as he and his cousins head for the rodeo ring. I want to tell the mayor he’s wrong. Not all targets can be hit. Not if they’re no longer in close enough range for you to reach them.
I don’t wait for the photos the Mayor likes to take every year of all the winners. I’ve never missed one of Logan’s rodeos, and I don’t plan to start now.
When I reach the arena, I push through the crowd until I’m right outside the fencing. The announcer calls out?—
“A hometown boy, Logan Wild, is up next! Born and raised right here in Hunt County. Let’s cheer him on, folks!”
Knowing I won’t have time to find a seat, I stay where I am and wait.
