Page 80

“Not my story to tell, man, it’s hers.”
I grunted. “Come on, Kaz, what?—”
I heard a woman call out to Kaz. He wasn’t lying when he said he had company.
“Duty calls.” He chuckled.
“This cloak and dagger shit necessary?”
“No, but definitely entertaining. I’ll see you at?—”
I ended the call.
I looked at the photo again and wondered what secrets it was hiding.
CHAPTER 25
elena
Copper shifted beneath me, his muscles twitching, ears flicking forward. He knew it was our turn, and he was raring to go.
The announcer’s voice boomed overhead, cutting through the noise. “Next up, we’ve got Elena Rivera riding Copperhead Canyon from Wilder Ranch for the reining pattern.” The speakers crackled, the words stretching and fading for a beat before the crowd stirred again.
I barely heard the rest of his words as he talked about Copper and my previous wins. The pulse of adrenaline was thrumming in my bones, settling deep like an echo that wouldn’t fade.
Shifting in the saddle, I adjusted my grip on the reins, the soft leather of my gloves warm against my fingers. My starched button-up clung to my back under my embroidered show vest, and the brim of the Stetson shielded my eyes from the glare of the arena lights. The silver conchoson my chaps caught the light as I squeezed my legs, cueing Copper forward. He stepped out smoothly, his hooves striking the dirt with easy confidence.
The second we crossed into the arena, the world narrowed, and nothing existed beyond the fence for me: just me, my horse, and the rhythm of the ride.
I settled deep in the saddle, gave the slightest cue, and we took off into a fast, controlled lope. Copper moved like fluid muscle beneath me, every step balanced, every response immediate.
The first maneuver was a large, fast circle.
We surged forward, kicking up dust, wind whipping at my shirt as my horse dug in and pushed through the run. At the marker, I gave a light tug on the reins, and we snapped into the small, slow loop. Copper’s stride shortened, his frame collected, all that power now focused, controlled.
I shifted slightly in my seat, and Copper switched leads effortlessly, smooth as butter.
I could hear the crowd, but it was just noise, far away, unimportant.
I made a quick kissing sound—a cue Copper knew well—and squeezed with just the proper pressure, causing him to surge forward and launch into a dead run.
The fence rushed toward us. I braced, sat deep, and cried out the command, “Whoa!”
Copper’s hindquarters slammed into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust as he slid long and clean, his front hooves barely moving, his whole body tucked neatly beneath him.
The crowd roared, and I turned Copper quick, sent him into a rollback, and we did it again—one more powerful run, one more perfect slide, one more beat of pure, electric movement where the whole damn world disappeared.
Thenwe stopped.
Even amid the crowd's cheers, Ifeltsilence. I calmed my breath, stroking Copper’s neck as he huffed beneath me.
“Good ride,” I whispered. “Damn good ride.”And a damn shame that I’d lose my beautiful Copper today.
Maverick, I knew, was chomping at the bit—pun intended—to get his hands on Copper as were a few others. After a win like this at the Wildflower Canyon Rodeo, one of the biggest stops on the circuit, Copperhead Canyon wasn’t just a damn good horse—he was a champion. A horse like him, with his bloodlines, training, and a fresh trophy under his name, would easily be worth $150,000, maybe more.
That should make Duke happy, I thought, bitterness curling through me.
The son of a bitch was selling it all off, and I hurt something fierce. I mean, it was none of my business, now, was it? Between him and that high-heeled bitch—more power to her—they’d take all the work I’d done with Copper and make a mean profit.