Sara Beth gripped the reins, her hands shaking. Strapped into the saddle-seat by Michael, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Yet… she had one high jump to make with everything else on the course and she hadn’t finished one yet, even in practice.

 

Sugar’s haunches quivered, sensing Sara Beth’s anticipation. They’d grown so close over the last five weeks. The horse and rider more friends than anything.

 

“It’s okay, girl. We can do it.” Glancing around at the stadium-style stands, Sara Beth fought the nausea working up the back of her throat. If she fell in front of all those people… what if they had to carry her off on a stretcher? What if she came in too late? What if she didn’t even make the first turn? What if Sugar slipped into her old habits and took control?

 

A hand patted her knee, pulling her attention down.

 

Johnny tipped his hat, peering up at her as he resettled it on his blond waves. “Hey, stop freaking out. You’re going to do amazing.” He stroked Sugar’s shiny mane and leaned in to the curve of her neck. “Trust yourself and your horse. Remember?”

 

She couldn’t believe he stood there, so close to her. Emotion choked her response. She nodded. After a moment, the ability to speak returned. “You’re here.”

 

“I told you I’d be here.” His hand stalled and he looked at her with the faintest degree of accusation.

 

“But you left. Like you didn’t care.” She rubbed at her eyes, forbidding them from crying. Thankfully, she’d omitted makeup. Why wear it when it might irritate her eyes and damage her vision?

 

She’d missed Johnny so much. He’d left with a large part of her in his back pocket. “You never even called me.” She ended on a whisper.

 

“Only until today. I can’t even hold your hand, Sara Beth. After Tim decides if you’re in or not based on your ride, then you and I can talk. He’s not going to let you do this if there’s anything even closely resembling a ‘you and I’.” He pointed his finger, wagging it back and forth between them. “I’m trying to protect you.”

 

Rodeo clowns cleared the bales from the teen group competing for a spot to ride for the Circuit that year. Because Sara Beth didn’t fit in one group or the other because of her age and her disability, Tim had made the concession that she could ride on her own. This only scared her more. A fact that he probably hoped for. Tim hadn’t taken out the jumps for Sara Beth’s ride, insisting that everything else stay the same as his Miss Wrangler Montana competition.

 

Normal rodeo used barrel-racing as its main form of agility and handling competition, but Tim’s committee board had added in the extras to make it harder on the women. Like parading around in a bikini for a group of critical judges wasn’t hard enough.

 

A man with a mic stuck to his hat leaned over the fence and patted the metal post for her attention. “Ms. Scott, you have two minutes.”

 

She looked to Johnny for guidance. She didn’t want to leave him. He might disappear again and she didn’t want to lose him. Even if they couldn’t be together in a romantic way, she wanted her friend back. He’d been the first one to like her regardless of her new situation.

 

Johnny stepped back, crossing his arms. “You’re going to do great. I’ll be right here watching.”

 

The same man called out. “Thirty seconds.”

 

Crap. Sara Beth, get your head in the ride. She leaned down to Sugar. “Come on, girl. Let’s ride.”

 

The gate opened, but Sara Beth had to hold her position until...

 

A loud horn blasted the start. Sugar bolted from the holding stall, displaying Sara Beth and her special saddle-seat to the entire arena.

 

She took a warm up lap, trying to ignore the exclamatory gasps as she rode by. But then the announcer pulled the rest of the crowd’s attention to her condition. “Ladies and gentleman, we have a special case tonight. Ms. Sara Beth Scott is riding in the paraplegic leg, a new one to the Circuit, to determine her seating for Miss Wrangler Montana. As she starts her course, please support her efforts.”

 

The patronizing tone infused her with steely nerves. She clenched the upper portion of her thighs – well, she hoped they clenched. The tingly areas sometimes responded with short spasms and jerks, but then again, she could be imagining things.

 

Sugar tossed her head at the start – ready – Sara Beth was too. She gave the cue and Sugar responded.

 

Bam! In seconds they’d reached admirable speed, gliding smoothly over the churned, dark dirt. They cleared one shallow jump, weaved around posts, ducked under a railing, took the gratuitous barrel turn and broke into the run toward the final jump. The big one. And it wasn’t even as high as the log that she’d fallen on.

 

An echo of Johnny encouraging her drowned out the thudding of Sugar’s horseshoes and the seat creaked as she hunkered forward. “Come on, Sugar. Let’s take that stupid fence.”

 

They pounded toward it, the distance cutting in half, in half again to mere feet. The leather reins cut into Sara Beth’s palms with her intense grip on the straps.

 

Weightless. And a flashback of that afternoon as she’d sailed through the air, without a saddle to hold onto, Sugar hadn’t bucked her off, she’d slid on something, missed her footing.

 

In that space of a moment, Sara Beth released her fear and allowed the horse to do her job.

 

They landed with a solid thud smoothed out by the easy gait of the mare. Slowing, Sugar rounded the last barrel and drew up at the line. Tossing her mane, the horse pranced.

 

Sara Beth patted her neck, pleased with the results. Even if Tim wasn’t impressed, Sara Beth knew she’d done well.

 

The crowd stood, applause swelled around her. Glancing around at the ovation, Sara Beth’s attempt to hide her joy failed. Raising both fists in the air, she shook them at the sky.

 

She hadn’t lost anything that day. In fact, she had a strange sensation that she’d found so much more. 

 

~~~

 

“Well, well, Ms. Scott. I have to say I’m impressed by how you handled that horse and the course.” Tim Mayfair, hands in the pockets of his overworked tweed pants, rocked back and forth on his feet beside the gate to Sugar’s holding pen.

 

Sara Beth hadn’t dismounted and the difference in heights as she looked down on him dizzied her for a moment. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Thank you, Mr. Mayfair.”

 

“I think with the audience investment in your case, we could make this work as a joint venture between us. Welcome to the Circuit on a conditional basis.” He held out his hand to shake.

 

Not meeting the gesture even half-way, Sara Beth arched her eyebrow. “Conditional?”

 

He slowly dropped his hand. “Of course. You can’t participate in the swimsuit contest or in the ball gown department. You won’t be in the running for first place – or any place for that matter.” He laughed, his round belly shaking like mud around a stampede. “But you will receive an honorary award for trying.”

 

Sara Beth cut in before his laughter could echo around the barn again. “Thank you, but I’m going to pass. Good day, Mr. Mayfair.” She turned the horse around, returning Sugar to Michael and the stall. If Mr. Mayfair left, she didn’t know it – nor did she care.

 

She had more important things to get excited for.

 

Conditional her butt!