When we were younger, Sierra would get in such a rush to race that she would sometimes skip steps, not taking the time to check everything. It took her saddle slipping down the side of her horse to finally make her realize that it was okay—necessary even—to take the time to double-check, hell, even triple-check her equipment before a race.
“Seriously?” Keenan matched my urgent pace. “Who would do that?”
“I have no idea, but after I get her my saddle, we’re going to report it.”
Keenan vocalized what I was concerned about. “Are they going to be able to do anything?”
“They’d better fucking try. Whoever it was committed a crime, and she could have gotten seriously hurt. And so soon after her trailer burned down in Goldfinch?”
He hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that’s odd. Could it just be a coincidence, though? Or a jealous competitor? She is one of the best in the world right now.”
“I mean, we haven’t heard anything back about the trailer. They found a cigarette butt as the cause of the fire, and that could easily have been negligence. But a tampered saddle? I find it hard to believe that’s accidental. That leather’s tough. And jealousy is no excuse for destruction of property,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, no, you’re right,” he agreed. “You think someone is targeting her, though.” It came out as more of a statement than a question.
I didn’t want to think about that.
“I’m just looking out for her. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
We’d reached the trailer by now, and I lifted my spare saddle off the rack in the back, inspecting it for anything out of the ordinary before heaving it over my shoulder to carry back to Sierra.
“You didn’t do anything with the saddle, right?” I asked her when we got back.
She shook her head. “No. Haven’t touched it.”
“Good. We need to report this to the rodeo association and the police.”
Her face blanched. “Are you sure? I mean, it could have just been?—”
“An accident?” I cut her off, shaking my head. “No. You know just as well as me, Skip. This was intentional. A cut like that doesn’t just happen. It’s day one of three. Better to play it safe than regret it later.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders drooped, but she didn’t argue.
I knew Sierra didn’t like to get the police involved in her life, considering what she’d gone through as a kid, but reporting the saddle was important. Her dad may have been in prison, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t after her.
I set the saddle down, hooking a finger under her chin and tilting her face up toward mine. “Focus on racing, and I’ll take care of it, yeah?”
She rolled her lips between her teeth and nodded. After I confirmed she was okay, I made Keenan stay with her while I went to report the incident to the stock contractor. Unfortunately, since neither I nor Sierra were around when it happened, nothing might come out of it, but I still needed to try. We at least had the evidence that the saddle was cut,so that was a start.
I would also be making a police report, because there was no way I was going to gamble with Sierra’s safety. Maybe there were fingerprints on it that could trace back to whoever did this.
By the time I got back from talking to the stock contractor, rodeo secretary, and police officers stationed at the rodeo, the barrel racing had started.
“Running next on Ace’s Lucky Charm, we’ve got one tough cowgirl out of Goldfinch, Montana. Let her hear you, folks! We’ve got Sierra Bayley!” the rodeo announcer called out as Sierra and Lucky exploded out of the alleyway, racing down the arena toward the first barrel.
Dust rose in the air, surrounding the pair in a cloud as she maneuvered around the first barrel. They cut through the dust like a knife, heading toward the next barrel as fast as a flash of light. Her hair billowed behind her underneath her cowboy hat, and her face was set in determination. They were a lethal pair, all muscle and athleticism.
Her turns were tight but skilled enough not to knock over the barrels. After rounding the second barrel, the pair made their way to the third and final barrel.
“Let’s help her home! Come on, Sierra!” the announcer cried over the loudspeaker.
Lucky’s muscles rippled as he sprinted the homestretch, Sierra urging him on with gentle kicks and control on the reins.
When they crossed the time barrier, the announcer called out, “Fifteen-point-six-seven! That time will move her up to the top of the leaderboard!”
Sierra leaned forward in her saddle, patting Lucky’s neck with a brilliant smile on her face as they exited the arena.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
