This morning Tolson had scarcely given her a glance. But Cheyenne could sense the awareness burning between them. He was not a pretty man, but his rugged features were attractive. He looked older than most of the riders. He would be about Roper’s age, she calculated. But why should that matter? Only one thing seemed evident. He didn’t approve of her being here.
Some of the riders had finished working their horses and were leaving the arena. Cheyenne was waiting for Hayden to dismount when she saw a white-haired man, possibly a judge, come out of the back, catch his attention, and beckon him to the gate.
Cheyenne kept her distance, watching as Hayden dismounted and led his horse to where the older man stood. The two exchanged a few words. Hayden’s expression froze, then shattered like a skim of winter ice. The older man laid a hand on his arm.
Cheyenne hurried toward them. Hayden turned toward her, his face pale. “It’s my father. His plane went down over New Mexico. He’s been taken to a hospital in Gallup, but he’s not expected to survive.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to go right now.”
“Oh, Hayden!” Cheyenne ached for him. He’d be missing tonight’s Cutting Horse Challenge, but at a time like this, that couldn’t be allowed to matter.
“Wait, there’s something else you need to know.” The older man was still speaking to Hayden. “There was a passenger in the plane, a young woman. The medics said she was about five months pregnant.”
Hayden stared at him. “Is she—?”
“Evidently, she died on impact. And the baby with her, of course. Was she someone you knew?”
Hayden shook his head. With visible effort, he pulled himself together. “I’ll send someone to pick up the horses on Sunday,” he said. “If somebody could look after Steely Dan until then—”
“I’ll take care of him,” Cheyenne said. “I know what to do.”
Buck Tolson was behind her, leading his big buckskin to the gate. “I’m sorry about your dad, Barr,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything here. My horse’s stall is next to yours, so I’ll be there in case your girl needs help.””
“And you won’t have to worry about my beating you tonight, will you, Tolson?” Hayden’s tone was shocking in its bitterness. Buck’s jaw tightened, but otherwise he didn’t respond.
“Just go, Hayden!” Cheyenne said.
For the space of a breath, Hayden glared at his rival. Then he passed his horse’s reins to Cheyenne and strode off in the direction of the hotel.
Tolson’s gaze narrowed as he took stock of Cheyenne’s petite size. “Are you all right with that horse?” he asked.
“I am, Mr. Tolson. My name is Cheyenne McKenna, by the way. I’m not Hayden’s girl, just his friend. And I know how to handle a horse.”
“Then I take it you know the way to the stalls. Let’s go. I’ll follow you. My name’s Buck, but you can call me whatever you want.”
His nonchalance grated on Cheyenne. But she couldn’tfault him for his treatment of Hayden. At least he’d been sensitive enough to know that the man was in distress.
Cheyenne could imagine how frantic Hayden must be. He’d mentioned that he and his father were all that was left of their family. Now, without a miracle, Hayden would be alone. The ranch and the horses would be his. But at such a terrible cost.
She remembered the mention of the young pregnant woman, killed with her baby in the crash. Hayden hadn’t known her. Maybe she’d been a neighbor who needed a ride—maybe someone with a family member competing in an event.
They had left the arena and were headed along the rows of stalls in Barn A. Cheyenne kept a tight grip on Steely Dan’s reins. The paint gelding was calm, but horses could be unpredictable. With his owner suddenly gone and a stranger leading him, Steely Dan could be feeling some stress.
This morning the barn was a bedlam of noise and activity. With the Shootout starting early tomorrow, dozens of hopeful riders were bringing in their horses. Cheyenne had slept poorly. She was getting a headache. Maybe later, before the 7:00 cutting event, she could go up to her room and lie down. But not yet. She had more urgent things to do.
Once Steely Dan was settled in, she would have to find Roper. He had to be told about Chet Barr’s crash and Hayden’s departure. Cheyenne had never met Chet Barr, but Roper had spoken highly of him. He would be devastated by the bad news.
Since their arrival at South Point, the two of them had been so busy that they’d barely kept in touch. She needed to spend more time with her brother, especially now, with so much worry weighing on him.
Hayden’s horse snorted and tossed his head, almost jerking the reins out of her hand.
“Cheyenne—stop! Get over to the right!” Buck’s sharp command reached her ears from behind. Only now did Cheyenne see what was happening at the far end of the row.
A cowboy was struggling to maneuver a nervous palomino stallion into its stall. The horse was resisting the unfamiliar space, snorting, rolling its eyes, and jerking at its lead rope as it tried to back away. The cowboy was doing his best to urge the stallion forward, but the big palomino was more horse than he could handle.
The stallion was becoming agitated. With a sudden scream, it reared and broke free. Trailing its lead rope, it came barreling down the open space between the rows, headed straight for Cheyenne and Steely Dan.
By yanking the bridle and slapping his flanks, Cheyenne managed to swing the paint horse partway to the right. But, too late, she realized that she was still in danger. The move had put her squarely in the stallion’s path.
“Get over!” Buck flung himself against her, pinning her against the closed gate of a stall. His body protected her as the three horses collided in a shifting, squealing mass. He kept her shielded through the worst of it, while people came running to break up the melee and lead the stallion away. By the time he released her, she was shaking.