sierra
We filed a police report in Billings for the tampered saddle, but we hadn’t received any news by the end of the rodeo weekend. There were no witnesses, so there were no leads. The only fingerprints that were found on the saddle were mine and Hayden’s, so that was a bust, too.
There was no time to dwell on it, though. The county fair and rodeo in Miles City was this weekend, so the only thing on my mind was another barrel race. This one was at least local, so we didn’t have to do a lot of driving. Looking forward, though, we had a lot of miles ahead of us. In a couple weeks, we’d be traveling all the way to Oregon for the Pendleton Roundup, then we’d turn around and drive to North Dakota. That would end our long stretch of competitions until mid-October, when we’d go back to Billings for the last big rodeo of the season.
My first order of business was fixing the saddle. It was returned to me by the time we left Billings, so at least I didn’t have to shell out money for a replacement. Not to mention the time it would take to break in a new one.
Unfortunately, I still didn’t have my pickup back, but Hayden had offered to either drive me into town or let me use his.
I, selfishly, opted for driving myself. I left Pancho at the house with Hayden, figuring he could keep himself entertained. He’d taken well to Hayden in the short time we’d been staying with him.
The roads were quiet, which was surprising at this time of day. I would have thought more people would be out and about given it was mid-afternoon on a weekday, but Silver Creek and Miles City weren’t large in population by any means. I appreciated that, though. I preferred a slower pace of life to the hustle and bustle of a larger city or even just a larger town like Goldfinch.
In the five years that I’d been away, I spent a lot of time in small towns—for rodeos and just exploring, seeing the world like I’d always promised myself I’d do.
My favorite was a sleepy little town nestled in the mountains of Colorado. While it had the classic small town charm, the people weren’t nosy like the typical stereotype. They were friendly, of course, but they respected the privacy of their residents. If juicy gossip was what you were looking for, Cedar Bluffs was the wrong place to be, which was perfect for me. It wasn’t like my name was huge—I was by no means a celebrity-level rodeo athlete like Colter Carson, Reid Lawson, or Mikey Tucker—but if anyone were to look me up, the articles associated with my last name weren’t the most sparkling. What happened had nothing to do with me, but family reputations tended to follow a person around.
After the…incident…I left Goldfinch for a while. I had to come back to testify a few times, but after the case was over, I never wanted to set foot back in Montana again. I didonce, and that was the nail in the coffin for me. After that, I changed my phone number and truly started over, setting my sights on being anywhere but my home state. At least until I entered into the WRCA and my schedule brought me back.
I hadn’t spoken to my mother in six years. She made her choices, and I made mine, but our lives weren’t connected anymore. I hoped she was able to find peace, but I couldn’t look her in the eyes after what she allowed to happen, even after I begged and cried. Because by the time she finally decided to take a stand, it was too late, and our lives were forever changed.
I turned onto the main road in Miles City, pulling myself out of my well of thoughts. If I treaded through them too much, I was sure to drown, and I needed to keep my head above water.
The bells on the front door of the saddle shop chimed as I walked in. The smell of leather and oils hit my nostrils, and a girl with dark hair popped her head around the register to greet me.
“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with today?”
I stepped up to the counter. “I’m looking to get a saddle repaired. It’s in my vehicle, but I can go grab it.How long would something like that take?”
“Hmm…” She typed a few things on the computer. “We can have it done for you in a couple days. Does that work?”
“That’ll be great. Thank you.”
I brought the saddle inside, exchanging it with the girl working. She gave me a quote on what the repair would cost then collected my phone number and email address for invoicing and updates.
“Thank you so much, Sierra. We’ll keep you updated.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you. Have a good one.”
She waved as I headed toward the front door. Before I could stop myself, the bells jingled, and I ran into a solid chest.
“S-sorry.” I took a step back, throwing out a quick apology to whoever I’d run into.
“Oh, hey, Sierra.”
Reid Lawson.
“Hi. What are you up to today?” I put my hands in my back pockets.
Reid ran a hand through his hair before clearing his throat. “Had to come pick up a saddle. You leave Hayden at home?” he joked, and it immediately lightened the mood.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I’m not really doing anything exciting, and I left Pancho with him. Some days I think the dog likes him more than he likes me.”
“Hayden tends to have that effect.”
You have no idea.
A moment of quiet passed between us before Reid said, “I don’t know if it’s something you’d be interested in, but I have a practice arena if you want to use it. We all have days where we just hang out and get some runs in. We can get some barrels to set up, no problem.”
