A Cowboy's Claim. Marin Thomas
he’d put up with her. Vic was a loner and Beau wasn’t the first cowboy to have nothing good to say about him. But Tanya found his quiet personality a nice break from the braggarts on the circuit. And she’d felt a sense of camaraderie with Vic—her competition hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms, either. They’d given her weird stares and stilted greetings as if they wished she’d remained retired from the sport—not because she was any real threat but because of the attention she and Slingshot drew at the rodeos.
A car accident had ended Tanya’s barrel-racing career before she’d been ready to call it quits. She blamed Beau’s cheating for robbing her of that last season. It had taken months for her to recover from her injuries and put her failed marriage behind her once she’d signed the divorce papers. Now she was back on the circuit to say a final goodbye to the sport.
“What the hell are you doing with Vicario?” Beau walked—rather limped—toward Tanya.
Ignoring the question, she asked, “Did you sprain your knee?” Beau had been cursed with weak joints to go along with his weak morals.
“Don’t change the subject.”
Beau didn’t love her anymore—if he ever did. But he was a sore loser. He’d fought the divorce tooth and nail, suggesting marriage counseling, but she’d refused. Once a cheater, always a cheater. She made a move to step past him, but he snagged her arm.
“What’s with you and Vicario?”
“None of your business.”
“The man has ice in his veins, Tanya. You don’t know anything about him. Nobody does.”
“We’re divorced.” She planted her hands on her hips. “That means you don’t get a say in which men I choose to date, kiss or have sex with.”
Beau’s jaw dropped and Tanya cringed when she noticed the attention they’d drawn. Typical Beau—always making a scene.
“When are you and that dumb horse of yours going to call it quits?” Beau’s self-esteem grew when he made other people and animals feel worthless. “You and Slingshot are the laughingstock of the circuit.”
She’d listened to enough of his crap. Without a word—because Beau hated it when she didn’t fight back—she headed to the stock pens to find her stepfather. He intercepted her halfway there.
“Tanya!” Mason Coldwater was in his early sixties and she’d known him since she’d been a young girl. “We need to head home.”
“I thought you wanted to stay for the bull riding?” She followed him out to the parking lot and got into his brand-new Lincoln.
“Your horse is causing trouble again.” He started the engine and flipped on the air-conditioning.
“What has he done now?” she asked.
“Jumped the damned fence. Took forever for Raymond to catch him. And when he put Slingshot in the barn, the horse kicked the stall door down.”
“Next time I’ll—”
“There shouldn’t be a next time, Tanya.” After Mason merged onto the highway, he said, “You’re a horse trainer. Not a barrel racer anymore. I need you at the farm. Raymond’s not working out.”
Raymond Gonzales was the trainer Mason had hired to replace Tanya after she began rodeoing earlier in the year. “Ray has a solid reputation.”
“Come back to the farm and help Raymond. Then if you still want to compete next year, I’ll help you choose a decent horse.”
It wouldn’t matter how many Red Rock horses Mason offered her, he’d find an excuse to bring her back home. She understood his and her mother’s fear that she’d injure her leg again. The surgeon had warned that if she broke her left leg again, she might end up walking with a permanent limp. The rehab had been so painful that Tanya hadn’t given a thought to competing again until Slingshot had ended up at the farm. The stubborn horse had convinced Tanya that not only did he deserve a second chance to prove himself, but so did she.
Mason paid her a decent salary to train his Appaloosas, and she loved working with the horses. She especially loved the challenge Slingshot presented. It took a month at the farm before the horse’s difficult personality became evident, and then Mason had wanted to sell him. Tanya had talked him out of it and had worked tirelessly with the horse, but had made minimal progress. So she’d suggested that Mason allow her to work Slingshot’s kinks out on the circuit. Mason had been reluctant, but Tanya had persisted until he caved in.
“Slingshot’s getting restless,” she said. “He’s ready to compete again.”
“I think the damned horse doesn’t like being separated from you.”
“We have a love-hate relationship.”
“Maybe you should give him a different name.”
Slingshot lived up to his name and then some. He burst out of the alley and broke the barrier like a rock in a slingshot. The only problem was that his momentum made his turns sloppy and he sacrificed valuable seconds getting around the barrels.
“And he’s damned ugly,” Mason muttered.
The mud-brown horse had no markings, and if you saw him in a lineup with other horses, your gaze would skip over him. But Slingshot had heart—not even Mason could argue with that. The gelding came from a strong bloodline of barrel racers. His legs were straight with no bumps or scars—he hadn’t been in any accidents or mishaps—and he possessed a strong back and healthy hooves. Slingshot was built to run, but he was a mystery—just like Victor Vicario—and it was anyone’s guess which one would be easier to tame.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the women’s barrel-racing event at the JUAB County Fairgrounds here in beautiful Nephi, Utah.”
Tanya stood with Slingshot, waiting for her turn to enter the alley. She hoped the beast would behave today. She tugged his head lower and whispered in his ear. “Be a sweet boy out there. It’s okay if we lose, just don’t go rogue on me.”
“Hey, Tanya!”
She swallowed a groan. Samantha Martinez, the nineteen-year-old up-and-coming star of barrel racing, entered the line with her horse, Prince Charming. “Have you considered that maybe Slingshot misbehaves because he’s suffering from an undiagnosed injury?”
“You wouldn’t by chance be accusing me of abusing my horse?”
Samantha’s eyes rounded and she sucked in a fake gasp. “Of course not.” Then she shrugged her rhinestone shoulders.
What a little snot. A veterinarian had examined Slingshot and had given him a clean bill of health. The horse’s orneriness was all in his head.
“Sometimes it’s not the horse but the owner.” Samantha smiled. “Maybe Slingshot just doesn’t like you.”
Tanya’s gut coiled in a knot. She’d wondered the same thing but hadn’t had the courage to admit it out loud. What if she’d read Slingshot wrong and he didn’t want to compete? Hating Samantha for undermining her confidence, she said, “Don’t you have a prom to get ready for?”
The cowgirl jerked as if she’d been slapped. Jeez, the girl could dish it out, but she couldn’t take it. Tanya regretted snapping at the stuck-up princess, but darn it, her sureness was already lower than the water table in Death Valley.
“You and Slingshot ready?”
Vic stood behind the barrier gate that blocked off one side of the alley. He wasn’t smiling—he never did—but his eyes glinted with warmth. Ten days had passed since she last saw him in Wyoming, and not an hour had gone by that he hadn’t crossed her mind—sometimes more than once or twice. Dare she hope