Sophie
Ten Years Later

“Jesus Christ,” Sawyer growled in the driver’s seat. “Will you three keep it down back there?”
“Keep it down,” Eli muttered, mocking Sawyer’s voice. “Stop having fun. Frown all the time for no reason.”
I turned from the passenger seat to glare at Eli, but I was struggling not to giggle. Our kids didn’t have the same willpower—Wyatt, our nine-year-old son, was snickering loudly, while Daisy, our eight-year-old daughter, was doubled over with laughter.
“I swear, I will turn this truck around,” Sawyer warned.
“Come on, guys,” I said, putting on my Stern Mom voice. “We’re almost there. Just sit still a little bit longer.”
“Sit still,” Eli mocked. “Eat your vegetables. Don’t throw cow dung at each other.”
“Hey!” I said.
Eli looked confused. “What? I don’t know who said that.” He turned to Daisy. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
Her blonde braids swung as she shook her head. “Nope!”
Eli smiled and me and shrugged. I clenched my jaw. I loved those three more than anything in the world, but sometimes I wanted to blindfold them and throw them into a ring with a raging bull.
That thought didn’t give me comfort, though. It was too close to the truth of what was going to happen tomorrow.
I shivered.
Sawyer reached over and put his hand on my thigh. He didn’t say anything, and kept his intense eyes glued to the road, but the gesture calmed me down. He was just as protective as the kids as I was.
Soon the Fort Worth skyline rose up in the distance. A tingle of nostalgia filled me as it always did when we returned to the city I had called home for so long. Even though it had been a decade since we moved out to our ranch, it still felt like just a few months had passed. It was strange how the passage of time changed the older you got.
“Why is the rodeo in Fort Worth?” Wyatt asked. “Dallas is a bigger city.”
“Watch it,” Eli said, pointing a finger at him. “We don’t abide by Fort Worth slander in this family.”
“My dad used to say, if I die in Dallas, drag my body back to Fort Worth,” I said.
Daisy nodded enthusiastically. “Dallas is too big. It’s all concrete.”
“That’s my girl,” Sawyer muttered proudly.
We drove into town and made our way into the cowboy camp near the rodeo. Johnny’s truck and the trailer for the horses was already there—he’d made better time on the road thanks to Wyatt and Daisy needing two bathroom breaks on the short drive.
“DUSTY!” Wyatt shouted, running across our campsite to hug the dog. Despite being twelve, he still moved around like a dog half his age. Working on a ranch kept him young, I thought.
“Surprised I beat you here,” Johnny said, tipping back his cowboy hat to wipe his forehead. “Had to go slow on the interstate, the wind was pushing the trailer all around.”
“Don’t ask,” I said, kissing him.
“I missed you, Sky Eyes,” he whispered, for my ears only.
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s only been an hour and a half.”
“Exactly,” he drawled. “Far too long.”
He wrapped an easy arm around me, and for a moment I was transported back in time to the year we all met. When Johnny, Eli, and Sawyer were just a trio of rival cowboys competing in the rodeo—and competing for my heart.
Despite the decade that had passed, our feelings hadn’t weakened a bit. If anything, our love was stronger than ever.
“Moooom,” Daisy complained. “I can’t find my outfit for the rodeo.”
“You don’t need it until tomorrow,” I called back to her.
“I know. But I want to make sure it’s ready.”
“It never ends,” Johnny whispered, brushing his thumb against my cheek.
“Nope,” I replied. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way!”
“Amen to that.”
The men tended to the horses and trailers while I helped Daisy and Wyatt unpack their outfits for the rodeo. Then we all walked up the walkway toward the food trucks, stopping to say hello to all the other rodeo participants that we knew—which was pretty much all of them. My boys were veterans at this point, and all the younger cowboys looked up to them. It took us an hour to walk about a quarter of a mile.
We all hit the sack early, but I didn’t sleep. I was too nervous about tomorrow. I knew it would go fine, that I didn’t need to worry, but I couldn’t help it.
I was a mother, after all.
Eli woke up early and got breakfast tacos for everyone. I helped Wyatt and Daisy get dressed, then beamed at how fancy the two of them looked in their outfits.
“Good luck today!” I told them before they left. “Remember everything we’ve taught you.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Daisy asked.
“I’ll be watching from the crowd,” I said. “I want to make sure I have the best seat in the house for your performances.”
I hugged them, then they jumped in the truck. Johnny and Eli lingered, waiting until the truck door was closed.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” Johnny asked.
I nodded. “I can’t watch. I’m sorry.”
“No apology needed, darlin’,” Eli said with a bright smile. “We’ll take good care of the kids.”
“And I’ll record the whole thing,” Johnny promised. “So you can watch later.”
I thanked them, then waved goodbye as they drove out of the cowboy camp. Then I leashed up Dusty and took him for a walk.
“Good luck today!” one of the other cowboys said as I passed. “The apples don’t fall far from the tree, I reckon.”
“Thanks!” I waved back.
It felt good to walk, but the pit of dread that had been sitting in my stomach since yesterday morning hadn’t gone away. I couldn’t bear to watch them today in case something went wrong.
But now I had a new fear: if something goes wrong, they will need me.
They’ll need their mother.
By the time I had finished walking Dusty, I had completely changed my mind. I called an Uber—gawking at how expensive it was, especially compared to when I was a driver—and hurried over to the Dickies Arena. This event wasn’t sold out, so I bought the cheapest ticket they had—standing room only.
I practically sprinted into the stadium, weaving through the crowds that were making their way toward the seats. The announcer’s voice echoed in the arena, and I ducked into the first doorway leading toward the arena floor. I was about halfway up the stands, with a sweeping view of the events.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer boomed, “boys and girls, it’s time for one of the wildest, most thrilling events of the day! Get ready to cheer on the toughest young cowboys and cowgirls as they take on some pint-sized, but mighty, mean bulls! The Miniature Bull Riding event begins now!”
The crowd erupted with applause, but I held my breath. I knew who was first.
“Now entering the arena. This young man is competing in the ten-and-under division for the first time, but his family has a long history of excellence here at the Fort Worth Rodeo. The son of six-time champion Johnny Armstrong… let’s give a big hand for Wyatt Armstrong!”
Goosebumps covered my skin as the spotlight shone down on the chute below, where Wyatt was sitting atop a miniature bull. He doffed his tan Stetson and waved to the crowd, which was like throwing lighter fluid on a fire—the crowd went nuts.
“He looks just like his father,” someone in the crowd next to me said.
“Let’s see if he can ride like him, too,” someone else said.
I felt tears welling in my eyes. I was still terrified, even though this event was extremely safe, but now there was a new emotion overriding everything else.
Pride.
My son—and my daughter—were competing in the rodeo, following in their fathers’ footsteps.
The gate burst open, beginning a new chapter for our family.