The Cowboy and the Angel (38 page)

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, your contestants for West Hills Roundup Queen,” the announcer repeated. “May I have the envelope, please?”

Glancing at the fence line, Sydney caught her brother’s gaze as he winked and gave her a thumbs-up. She smiled, appreciating that he had come to cheer her on when he had his own event to prepare for. The “crowd” was sparse in the morning hours before the rodeo actually began. It was mostly family and friends of the queen contestants and a few rodeo competitors who performed before the rodeo due to too many entrants in their events.

“Without any further fanfare,” the announcer paused for effect as the meager crowd immediately quieted to a hush. “Your princess this year is . . . Alicia Kanani!” Cheers erupted from the grassy hillside where Alicia’s family was seated with Sydney’s. She cheered from the line, excited for her friend. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for . . .”

Sydney’s heart raced. She felt it in her throat and in her toes at the same time as she waited for the name of the new queen to be called. Only her brother, Chris, knew how many hours of training and preparation had gone into this competition, all in hopes of having her name come to be associated with the best horse trainers in rodeo. As queen, she would be attending rodeos all over California, meeting and networking with stock contractors and other rodeo participants. She hoped that it would all lead to more exposure for her mounts, which meant more horses to train.

“The new West Hills Roundup Queen is . . . drum roll, please . . . Sydney Thomas!” The applause rose to a roar on the hillside again as Sydney’s family rose, laughing, cheering, and hugging one another. Sydney edged Valentino forward as the previous year’s rodeo queen placed the silver-and-rhinestone crown on her red cowboy hat. She was soon encircled by the other contestants, who offered congratulations as they exited the arena and headed for the horse trailers.

They’d barely dismounted at Sydney’s trailer when Alicia tackled her with an enthusiastic hug. “I can’t believe we did it! You won!”

Sydney opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by the massive arms that lifted her from behind and spun her around. “Congratulations, Queenie.”

“Chris, put me down,” she squealed. As her boots touched the ground she slapped him on the shoulder. Her brother might be a year younger than she was, but he’d inherited their father’s tall, lanky frame.

“Ow!” He rubbed his arm. “You’ll never find a king acting like that,” he teased.

“Please. That is the last thing I’m looking for.” Sydney rolled her eyes and turned to tie Valentino to the trailer.

“What about you, Alicia? Want to be my princess?” Chris asked as he snuck his arm around her shoulders.

Chris was a hopeless flirt. At nineteen, he was striking with his jet-black hair, aqua eyes, and broad shoulders—everything a girl would imagine from a cowboy, including the drawling charm. The fact that he and his roping partner were consistently ranked in the top of the national standings for team roping made him a pretty hot ticket around the rodeo circuit. But he’d never shown any indication that he would ever settle down with one girl.

“Why don’t you go find yourself one of those ‘buckle bunnies’ that hangs out behind the chutes?” Alicia asked, shaking his arm off.

One of the drawbacks of rodeo were the women fans, young and old alike, who wanted to snag a cowboy. Too often, Sydney found the cowboys around the circuit expected all of the other women to do the same.

“No thanks.” Chris laughed. “When I find the right girl, she’s going to outride and out-rope me.”

“Good luck with that.” Sydney laughed.

Alicia pulled her cowboy hat off, exposing her long, dark hair, and set the hat on the back of the truck. Sydney didn’t miss the look of appreciation Chris shot her best friend. “You never can tell, sis.” He tapped the red line her hat had left on her forehead before stepping back. “I’ll never understand why you girls wear hats that tight.”

Sydney slipped her sequined vest over her arms and unbuttoned the tuxedo shirt, grateful for the tank top underneath, and hung her shirt in the tack compartment of her horse trailer so she could wear it again once the pre-rodeo events finished. “You guys should try doing a queen run sometime. If that hat hits the ground with a crown on it, my head better be in it. Rule number one.”

She flipped the front of her brother’s cowboy hat, knocking it to the ground. “Unlike you ropers, no one picks up our hats when they come off in the arena,” she teased as she pulled a light cotton Western shirt from the trailer, wishing again that short sleeves were allowed. “Okay, I’m going to head back to find the stock contractor and see what they’ll allow us to do during the rodeo.”

It was typical for the stock contractor to allow the rodeo queen and her court to carry the sponsor flags for the events, but Sydney was hoping to network a bit and charm her way into being allowed to clear the cattle from the arena in the roping events. It was good exposure to show off Valentino and her accomplishments as a trainer. She exchanged her red cowboy hat for a baseball cap, pulling her russet curls through the opening in the back.

“Can you keep an eye on Valentino for me?” Sydney spotted their families heading toward the trailer. “Here comes the crew,” she said, jerking her chin in their direction. “Let them know I’ll be right back.”

“Talk with Mike Findley,” Chris instructed. “He’s in charge. He should be pretty receptive to you.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

Chris glanced toward Alicia, who was being hugged by both of her parents. “No hurry.” Sydney smiled, wondering if the dance tonight wouldn’t be the perfect opportunity to give Chris and Alicia a little nudge to take their friendship to the next level.

Sydney rolled up the sleeves of her shirt to her elbows and pulled the shirt from her chest in an attempt to cool herself. It was only April, but her shirt was already sticking to her skin at nine in the morning. She couldn’t help but smile and take in the smell of alfalfa, dust, and leather as she made her way through the jumbled maze of trucks and trailers, most with horses tied in the shade, dozing before their events. She knew how lucky she was; most people couldn’t honestly say that they loved their life, but she loved every minute she’d spent growing up in rodeo.

Sydney heard the unmistakable pounding of horse hooves on the packed ground behind her and moved closer to the vehicle on her right. Usually there was more than enough room for riders and their rigs in the walkway, but with the unexpected turnout at the rodeo today, there was barely room to maneuver. The horse was jogging pretty quickly and she didn’t have anywhere else to go, especially since another truck and trailer had chosen that moment to pull out of the gate ahead of her. The driver of the truck spotted her and waved her on. She tried to hurry through the opening he’d left her at the gate, but the rider behind her chose to slip between them, his mount’s shoulder knocking her into the gatepost on her right.

Sydney reached up to massage her shoulder before registering the surprise on the face of the driver of the truck.

“Are you okay, Sydney?” It was Bobby Blake, a friend of her father’s who must have been delivering some panels in the back of the arena.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him before raising her voice. “I guess chivalry really is dead,” she yelled at the cowboy’s back.

She saw him jerk his mount to a stop before glancing back over his shoulder at her. “Look, honey, I don’t have time for you girls who don’t belong back here. This area is for contestants, not their groupies.”

“Want me to set him straight?” Bobby asked.

Sydney smiled her appreciation. “No, but thanks Bobby. I’ve got this.”

“Go get him, honey,” he teased. “He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. By the way, congratulations.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sydney made her way toward the obnoxious cowboy seated on the sorrel. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but around here we tend to have a sort of unspoken code. When that walkway is packed with cars and horses like that, you slow down and you certainly do not push your way between a truck and someone walking. I don’t really appreciate hoofmarks across my back.”

She looked up at him as she came closer, refusing to let him intimidate her from his seat on the horse. “And as for being a groupie, I could probably outride you any day of the week,” she challenged.

The cowboy arched his right brow and a slow smile spread across his face. “Maybe we’ll have to see about that later.” With a tap of his heels, the horse jogged forward a few steps toward one of the stock pens.

Sydney narrowed her eyes as he left. What a jerk, she thought. Shaking her head, she rubbed her shoulder again and searched the back of the arena for the stock contractor’s trailers, noticing a lanky cowboy setting up folding chairs beside a Findley Brothers stock trailer.

“Excuse me,” Sydney began, making her way across the short grass. “Can you tell me where I might find Mike Findley?”

A weathered face returned her smile, and Sydney realized he was much older than she had first assumed. “What’s that?”

Sydney realized that he probably couldn’t hear her over the clattering of stock panels as the cattle moved into the pens. “Mike Findley? Do you know where I can find him?”

“Oh, no, I’m not Mike. I’m Jake,” the man hollered.

“Hi Jake, I’m Sydney Thomas.” She raised her voice as well. “I was just crowned rodeo queen and I’m looking for Mike to see if we might carry the sponsor flags or run cattle for him today.”

Jake turned and faced her, crossing his arms. The cattle had quieted so he toned down his voice as well. “Well, Mike’s up with the announcer right now working out of a few details. But he’s not who you’d want to talk to about that.” He leaned back against the trailer, crossing his ankles as if getting relaxed for a long conversation.

Sydney raised her brows in expectation. When Jake didn’t say anything, she pressed. “So, who should I talk to instead?”

“That’d be Scott Chandler.”

Sydney sighed, finding it difficult to restrain herself from punching something. First she’d been shoved into a fence post and now a cryptic cowboy was obviously enjoying a joke at her expense.

“And where would I find Mr. Chandler?”

The Cheshire-cat grin on Jake’s face made her heart sink. No, life couldn’t possibly be that cruel. Her gaze followed the direction of his finger as he pointed to the cowboy atop the sorrel at the stock pen, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. Swallowing the dry lump that had suddenly materialized in her throat, Sydney squared her shoulders and raised her golden eyes to meet the black eyes of her foe.

“Well, I think you just finished telling him off.” Jake grinned, anticipating the showdown to come.

Sydney had a few choice words that might have suited this moment if her mother hadn’t ingrained in her how unladylike it was to curse. A blush crept up her cheeks as Scott Chandler dismounted his horse and bowed deeply before her.

“Your Majesty,” he mocked. “I am at your disposal.”

She realized that the noise from the stock pen hadn’t kept him from overhearing her conversation with Jake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were.”

Sarcasm colored his chuckle. “Somehow I don’t think it would have mattered if you had. Now, I am busy, so what did you need, Miss Thomas?”

Sydney took a deep breath and ignored the warmth flooding her cheeks. “I came to see about carrying the sponsor flags and returning the cattle during the rodeo.”

“Experience?”

“Well, I’ve worked for Marks’ Rodeo Company for the last four years doing both, as well as training for the last eight years, five of those professionally.” Sydney’s chin rose indignantly as she felt his gaze weighing heavily on her. She felt suddenly self-conscious in her red jeans and red-and-white plaid Western shirt. Did she look like an immature girl?

Scott gave her a rakish, lopsided grin. “Oh, that’s right. You can outride me.” His brow arched as he articulated her words back to her. “Any day of the week.”

It took everything in her to try to ignore how good-looking this infuriating man was. He towered over her, well over six feet tall, and the black cowboy hat that topped a mop of dark brown hair, barely curling at his collar, gave him a devilish appearance. With sensuous lips and a square jaw, his deeply tanned skin reflected raw male sexuality. She wasn’t sure if he was actually as muscular as his broad shoulders seemed to indicate due to his unruly Western shirt, but his jeans left no imagining necessary to notice the muscular thighs. However, his jet-black eyes almost unnerved her. Those eyes were so dark that Sydney felt she would drown if she continued to meet his gaze.

So much for ignoring his good looks, she chided herself. “Give me a chance out there today to prove it.”

“I don’t see why she can’t run them, Scott.” Jake must have decided that it was time to break up the showdown with his two cents. “She is certainly experienced enough, more than most of the girls you let run flags.”

Scott glared at Jake before turning back to Sydney. She caught Jake’s conspiratorial wink and decided that she liked this old cowboy. Scott would be hard-pressed to find a reason to deny her request now that Jake had sold him out.

“Fine, you can do both. But if anything goes wrong, if a steer so much as takes too long in the arena, you’re finished. Got it, Miss Thomas?” The warning note in his voice was unmistakable.

Sydney flashed a dazzling smile. “Call me Sydney, and it’s no problem.” She clutched her shoulder. “Unless I’m unable to hold the flags since someone ran me into the fence post.”

His look told her he didn’t appreciate her sense of humor. “I mean it. Rodeo starts at ten sharp. Be down here at nine thirty, ready to go.”

As the sassy cowgirl walked away, Scott shook his head. “What in the world possessed you to open your mouth, Jake?”

“Aw, Scott, she’ll do fine. Besides, you did run her down with Wiley at the gate. You kinda owed her one.”

Scott watched Sydney head for the gate, taking in her small waist and the spread of her hips in her red pants and down her lean, denim-encased legs. That woman was all curves, moving with the grace of a jungle cat. With her full, pouting lips and those golden eyes, it certainly wouldn’t be painful to look at her all day. “I guess.”