Sarah Anderson - Rodeo Dreams

Title Page Rodeo Dreams Sarah M. Anderson www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author ABOUT THE AUTHOR About the Author Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE EPILOGUE EXTRACT Copyright Award-winning author Sarah M. Anderson may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out West on the Great Plains. With a lifelong love of horses and two history teachers for parents, she had plenty of encouragement to learn everything she could about the tribes of the Great Plains. When she started writing, it wasn’t long before her characters found themselves out in South Dakota among the Lakota Sioux. She loves to put people from two different worlds into new situations and to see how their backgrounds and cultures take them someplace they never thought they’d go. One of Sarah’s books, A Man of Privilege, won the RT Book Reviews 2012 Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Awards Series: Harlequin Desire. When not helping out at her son’s school or walking her rescue dogs, Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and American Indians, all of which is surprisingly well tolerated by her wonderful husband. Readers can find out more about Sarah’s love of cowboys and Indians at www.sarahmanderson.com .

Dedication To Mary Dieterich, who loved this book before I’d even finished it, and to Stacy Boyd, who bought this story almost five years after she originally rejected it. You two never gave up on June and Travis—or me—and I wouldn’t be where I am today without either of you. I will be forever grateful.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

EXTRACT

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“OKAY, HONEY, IF you can ride Ball and Chain, then you’re in.”

The fat man mopped his brow with a bandanna as he added, “But I’m not responsible for what happens out there, right?”

“Right.” June Spotted Elk fought an eye roll as Chain kicked the metal chute holding him tight.

“I’m just doing Dave a favor,” Mort went on as June reviewed her draw.

Ball and Chain was a small bull, only thirteen hundred pounds. Not the best bull on the Total Championship Bulls Ranger Circuit—the minor leagues of the TCB. Two-thirds of the riders made the eight seconds for a good ride. Tended to break left. No, not a bad bull to start out on.

Not that she was just starting out, but she was sick and tired of riding for a few hundred dollars while the men got checks with extra zeroes for doing the exact same thing.

June knew she was born to ride bulls. She knew she could ride with the big boys—all she had to do was prove that she had what it took, no matter what anyone said about her being a girl, an Indian or poor. Or all three.

She looked out at the sea of unwelcoming faces that crowded the indoor arena. It was Friday night in a small Illinois town she’d never heard of, inside what was normally a convention center. June had grown up riding in outdoor arenas, so the bright lights and the echo off the bleachers were throwing her off. But she couldn’t let a few technicalities undermine her. A professional bull rider rode no matter where they were. And she was a professional bull rider.

Or she would be, if she could just get on the bull.

She sighed in frustration. Proving she could do this was only the first step. But at least she’d gotten her foot in the door, thanks to her uncle Dave, who’d had to cash in a favor with Mort, the Ranger Circuit promoter. She knew good and well that was the only favor she was going to get.

The rest? All up to her, one bull at a time.

She wanted to compete. And competing meant riding against the men.

Not that the men were thrilled about it. Even though no one was within four feet of her, she could feel the palpable irritation in the air. But she was doing her damnedest to ignore them and focus on the bull. If she could just get on the bull...it would all fall into place.

Or she’d get crushed to death. Either way, really.

Mort was babbling again. “Just doing Dave a favor. I’m not responsible.”

“Mort, you’ve got to be kidding, right? Ball and Chain? For her?”

“Shut up, Red.”

So that was Red Willis. Number two on this circuit. And he was getting closer, his heels dragging his spurs across the dirt so loudly that they clanged.

“I’m just saying, if the little girl wants to ride with the big boys, she don’t want to ride Ball and Chain. She wants Hallowed.” An arm unexpectedly draped around her shoulder, pulling her into Red Willis’s chest. At six feet six inches, he was the tallest cowboy here. Even though she was five foot nine, June barely came up to his armpit. And his fingers were dangling dangerously close to her chest. Didn’t matter if she had on the protective vest that all the riders wore. The threat was implicit.

“Don’t you, honey?” Red was saying, smiling down into her face, his tobacco-stained lips pulled over brown teeth in a mean sneer. “Only the best for a girl like you.”

“Get your hands off me,” she said, trying to sound calm. She knew his type. As long as he thought he held all the cards, he’d make the wrong bet. Every single time. “I’m not your honey.”

The smile got meaner. “Come on, babe—”

That’s all it took. June knew if she didn’t nip this in the bud, half these boys would think it was open season and she would be the trophy everyone was trying to bag.

She was not here for a man. This was not some misguided attempt to snare a cowboy for her very own. She was here for herself. There would be no hooking up, no trailer hopping and absolutely no sleeping her way to the top of the rankings. The sooner everyone got that through their thick skulls, the better.

In one smooth movement, she grabbed Red’s hand and ducked down, twisting back until his wrist was near his shoulder blades.

“I said,” she repeated, ratcheting up his arm, “to take your hands off me. I won’t say it again.”

One of the few advantages of her rough childhood—she’d learned to defend herself early. And often.

“What the hell?” he squawked. That was better. Less bravado, more confusion. Keep the opponent off balance. Just like a bull would.

“This was your first and last warning, Willis.” With one final squeeze, she let go and pushed him back toward the other cowboys. Just about every jaw was dropped to the sawdust. Even Red was too shocked to do anything but let a few of the other guys hold him back. “I’m just here to ride. Anyone else got a problem with that?”

“Just doing Dave a favor,” Mort muttered to himself again. “Not responsible.”

“You really don’t belong here.”

One cowboy stepped forward. The overhead light hit the brim of his black cowboy hat, casting a dark shadow onto his face. The shadow, combined with the ten-day-old beard he wore, made it almost impossible to read his expression. His hands hung at his sides, the left shoulder at a slightly lower angle, probably from where he’d hit the ground rolling earlier.