The Dalton boys were born hell-raisers, from a family that people admired, but also envied, because they had done the uncommon thing of rising up above themselves. From trailer park to house on the hill. All in the same few square miles. It made people talk. It made them wonder. It made them jealous.

And given that Hank was more sinner than saint, it didn’t seem like particularly great karma in the end.

Gabe couldn’t much argue with that.

Still, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about his family. He walked over to the group of cowgirls, standing together now and chatting near the end of the arena.

“Good morning,” he said.

Jamie looked up at him, her face getting pink. “Good morning.”

Kate and Sierra gave him an enthusiastic hello, Kate treating him to a hearty handshake. The other two women couldn’t be more different. Kate was that practical cowgirl, dark hair in a braid, much like Jamie. Sierra had that big rodeo hair, all wild blond curls teased as big as they could get beneath that white studded cowgirl hat of hers. She had on shocking pink lipstick and glitter up by her eyes. “The kids helped with my makeup,” she said, smiling and gesturing back toward the stadium, where her husband, Ace, was sitting, along with their two children.

“Looks good,” Gabe said.

Sierra smiled. She was the exact kind of rodeo cowgirl he had typically had a great time with over the years, though never Sierra specifically. But as beautiful as she was, as sparkly as she was, his eye kept being drawn back to Jamie. In fact, there were plenty of beautiful women in attendance, but he acknowledged them much the same he would as jewels in a museum.

They were lovely, but he didn’t need them.

Jamie wasn’t like a jewel. She was like water in the desert to a parched man. Like so much more than want. Before long, Wyatt came out and began to emcee, and then Violet Donnelly came out to the center of the arena and sang the national anthem. They all faced toward the flag that was on the Dodge property, Gabe putting his hat over his heart. When they were finished, he went back to where the rovers were getting ready.

Dallas elbowed his uncle. “Who was that?” he asked Grant. “She was pretty.”

Grant guffawed. “Cain Donnelly will kill you. Keep it in your pants.”

Dallas looked intrigued, and not at all dented. He kept on winding rope around his hand, an introspective look on his face.

Just a few months ago the kid had been fascinated with Beatrix Leighton. But now Beatrix was with Dane. Teenage hearts moved on pretty quick. But one thing was for sure. Dallas seemed to have a thing for older women.

The air was thick with dust and pine, with the sweet smell of cotton candy and kettle corn being popped up by a local outfit called Hillbilly Kettle Corn, that traveled around to all the local fairs and parades and things.