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A part of me wanted to call out to her, to apologize and take it all back. But the words wouldn't come. Not this time. Every time we had this fight, it felt like getting slammed into the rails, the air knocked out of me. And right now, I was already spitting blood. My dad, the farm, this fight—it was all too much. I was too goddamn tired to even breathe, let alone chase after her and pretend I could fix a damn thing.
The ache in my chest grew—a hollow, gnawing emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole.
In a single day, I’d lost everything that had ever mattered to me. My home, my family, and now the love of my life. As I stood there, surrounded by the din of the rodeo, I’d never felt more alone. More broken.
It was the worst day of my life, and I had no one to blame but myself.
Chapter 1
Fastest Girl in Town - Miranda Lambert
Kinsley
It was love at first sight.
He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, with his deep and soulful brown eyes, shiny black hair, powerful muscles… I had to have him.
So, I bought him without a second thought.
Mr. Lucky Gambler was an eight-year-old black quarter horse gelding and the fastest horse I had ever ridden. But the honeymoon period was over by the time I had him on the trailer to bring him home.
I, of all people, knew better than to fall that hard and fast for a member of the male species. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson the first time, but nope.
My frustration mounted as Gambler threw his head up for the umpteenth time, ignoring my cues to slow down. We circled the outdoor arena, kicking up dust under the warm spring Alberta sun. The endless cattle fields of my family’s ranch stretched out around me.
“You overgrown turd!” I grumbled through gritted teeth, trying to rein him in.
Gambler snorted, his black coat glistening with sweat.
The sound of boots crunching on gravel drew my attention.
Dad leaned against the fence, a knowing smile on his sun-weathered face. “How’s it going, Kins?”
I forced a grin. “Oh, he’s being an angel. Just getting him used to the arena.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Looks like he’s giving you a run for your money.”
I shrugged, patting Gambler’s neck. “We’re working out some kinks. He’s got a lot of spirit.”
“Maybe you should give yourselves more time,” Dad suggested. “Get to know each other better before hitting the rodeo circuit.”
I shook my head, determination surging through me. “No way. We’re ready. I can feel it.”
Dad sighed. “Kinsley, I know you’re eager to win, but rushing into things won’t do you any favours. Take it slow; build that trust.”
I met his gaze, my jaw set. “I appreciate the advice, Dad, but I know what I’m doing. Gambler and I are going to take the circuit by storm. Just you wait.”
Dad held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Be careful out there. That’s a lot of horse.”
I grinned, imagining the upcoming competition, excitement already coursing through my veins. “Don’t worry, Dad. We’ve got this.”
Dad shook his head and waved as he strolled back to the big red barn that housed our string of ranch horses, as well as my and my sister’s horses.
I guided Gambler around the barrels, my heart pounding with each mighty stride.
Barrel racing was all about speed, precision, and that unbreakable bond between the horse and the rider. The goal was simple: complete a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels in the fastest time possible. But simple didn’t mean easy. Navigating those tight turns at breakneck speeds required razor-sharp focus and impeccable timing. The slightest miscalculation could mean losing precious seconds or even knocking barrels over, resulting in a loss.
As we approached the first barrel, Gambler overshot the turn, his hooves scrambling in the dirt. I cursed under my breath, pulling him back on course. We completed the pattern, but it was sloppy. I knew we could do better.
