“And now, contestant number forty-one, Sarah Beth Collins, riding Buttercup…”
The girl’s run was flawless, her tiny frame handling the large calf with impressive skill. The crowd erupted in applause, and Sierra found herself clapping along while her eyes stayed glued to her phone.
Nothing.
“Our next contestant is number forty-seven, Huck Blackwood, riding Jasper…”
Sierra’s head snapped up, her heart leaping. She scanned the arena entrance, waiting for Huck and Jasper to appear.
The entrance stayed empty.
“Number forty-seven, Huck Blackwood,” the announcer repeated.
Sierra stood up, craning her neck to see the staging area. Where was he? Had he gotten nervous? Backed out at the last minute?
“We’ll give number forty-seven another moment,” the announcer said. “Sometimes these young cowboys need a minute to get ready.”
But the entrance remained empty.
“All right, we’ll move on to our next contestant. Number fifty-two, David Harrison, riding Blaze…”
Sierra’s blood turned cold. They’d skipped Huck.
“Bailey, I have to go check on Huck,” Sierra said, her voice tight.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just got nervous.”
“No, you don’t understand. Huck was so excited.” Sierra was already moving, pushing past knees and muttering apologies as she worked her way down the bleachers. Bailey followed her. “Something’s wrong.”
She half walked, half ran to the staging area. Maybe Jasper had gone lame, maybe Huck had gotten sick, maybe, yes, he’d just lost his nerve at the last moment.
“Has anyone seen Huck Blackwood?” she called to the group of parents and officials clustered near the entrance of the staging area.
“He was here fifteen minutes ago,” one of the officials replied. “Seemed ready to go. Then when we called his name, nobody could find him.”
Sierra’s chest tightened. “What about his horse?”
“That’s the strange thing. The horse is gone too.”
She turned to Bailey. “Keep looking.”
Then she pushed through the crowd toward the back parking area, her boots crunching on gravel as she moved between trailers and trucks. Maybe Huck had taken Jasper back here for some reason. Maybe he’d needed more warm-up time, or maybe Jasper had spooked and he’d had to calm him down.
But as she rounded the corner toward where she’d parked her trailer, her blood turned cold.
Jasper stood near a cluster of trucks, his reins trailing in the dirt, saddle still on but his rider nowhere to be seen. The old horse looked confused, his muscles rippling, and he nickered when he saw Sierra approach.
“Huck?” Sierra called, her voice echoing off the aluminum trailers. “Huck, where are you?”
No answer.
She grabbed Jasper’s reins, her hands shaking as she checked him over. No signs of injury, no indication that he’d thrown his rider. He just stood there, patient and confused, waiting for someone to tell him what to do next.
“Huck!” Sierra’s voice rose, carrying across the parking lot. “This isn’t funny! Where are you?”
But only the wind answered, carrying the distant sounds of the rodeo.
That’s when she saw it.
