ROMANCE COWBOY NOVELS

A well-known cry could be heard through the neighborhood.  Despite not understanding why a black man was singing “Wat-o-melons” while standing in the bed of a battered wooden wagon, she patted her hands together in joy.​

 

Natalie knew her granddaughter well; she loved the mule. Mamaw grabbed her grandchild and rushed out the front door into the sweltering heat of the South. “It’s a horse, hon, a horsey.”The creature’s horseshoes, the size of a plate, made the unusual metal notes on the pavement that Riley heard weekly. And the smell of sweat, dirt, and dung, the earthy smell of the old animal at the curb, made her grin with delight. Oblivious to its height, she wanted to climb on its back, but Natalie pulled her away.​

 

“I think yo’ chil’ like Henry.

 

”​Mamaw nodded. “I believe she does. Um, these vegetables are the freshest in town, Theodore. Here is your money.”

 

​Natalie smelled the fresh soil aroma of the produce that reminded her of the farm as she walked to the house. Riley ignored the brown sack. It was the mysterious, hairy thing with enormous ears that fascinated her. She watched it over her grandmother’s shoulder on the way to the door.

 

​She pressed her cheek to the window once inside home. The wagon glided past the huge juniper bush of their neighbor, and the sound of metal shoes scuffing against the tarmac subsided. Mamaw was singing in another room. Riley forgot the mule as she ran to the kitchen to see what the bag held.​

 

* * * *​

This is how it began for Riley in becoming a skilled barrel racer. And how she met Burn Sullivant, a handsome young roper, at the National High School Finals. It was love at first sight, but they are separated before the rodeo is over. Read more in my E-book, paperback, or hard back.

 

 ​ * * * *

​Chapter Seven​

The good days of our youth are not forever. And we cannot bring back a second. But we go blindly go forward with lofty expectations, for that is how we live.

 

Riley removed Money’s halter and slipped the bridle over his ears. Money was improving. He was light; he was sharp. Riley decided not to create too big a fuss about the warmup. After three days, he had settled into his own routine, accustomed to the noise, the large stadium, the animated crowd. She didn’t ride but led him to a low traffic spot in a corner, disappointed that Burn didn’t show just to wish her luck. To better focus on their individual events, they agreed to not see each other beforehand. Yet, the lack of seeing him still lingered in her thoughts when she was supposed to be concentrating on her ride.​

 

They completed the roping event. If Burn had returned to the stalls, Riley would have seen him. Unless he didn’t want to be seen.A fleeting quietness overtook her with an indescribable feeling that floated out of her grasp of understanding. Subsequently, she brushed it aside, stepped in the stirrup, and worked her path toward the alley, determined to focus on the task at hand. Making the best run of her life. She was third in the draw, and the dirt condition was excellent.​

 

Riley cleared her mind and visualized the first four steps. Run in the center. Sit hard in the saddle, say whoa, use the inside leg to keep him shaped. Just let it happen.​

 

First rider, one barrel hit, second runner thundered out after a good clean run.​

 

When the announcer called her name, she composed herself and asked Money to move ahead. He calmly entered the alley, but when she stood in the stirrups, he charged forward. The force in his initial stride threw clumps of dirt ten feet, startling the other horses as it flew past them.​

 

Riley braced and dropped her left rein as a cue to turn the first drum. But they did not get that far.​

 

She had a thousandth of a second to realize . . .

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​​​​Excerpt from The Four Steps by permission of Cam Locke Copyright © 2025. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.