with a dull ache in her chest. The broken bolo tie lay on her nightst

. Another text f

ter. The offer about the silversmith still

d kindness in the midst of her turmoil. She did

d be there. Not going would cause more talk, more speculation. Her father was

But not as the quiet

-town barrel races, her trusty quarter horse, Dust Devil, her only confidante. No one in her town, not even Jake, knew the extent of her

main barrel racing

e. Filled them out. Paid the fe

, more for show, to keep up his father's image of him as a "rodeo man." Tiffany,

grooming him, checking his tack. He sense

ispered, burying her face in

arents, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, greeted her with strained smiles. Mrs. M

sh that read "Rodeo Queen Hopeful." She threw several bar

en't cut out for the

t life is all s

r focus entirely on th

hadows over the rodeo arena, the announ

he Open Barrel Rac

itors flashed on

is friends, scoffed.

ny gi

name appeared

he local crowd. Sarah Miller? The q

Sarah was leading Dust Devil towards the entry gate, her ex

r eyes on her, the weight of their disbelief. She took a

's f

to touch the ground. They rounded the first barrel, a blur of motion, then the second, then

ted into a roar as she crossed the finish line.

er heart pounding, a wide grin sprea

r shock. Tiffany looked like she'd swa

run, folks! Sarah Miller, our new