Her declaration brought a few more whoops.

When she’d hatched her plan to disguise herself as a man, she hadn’t realized it’d be so hard. But she hadn’t had much choice, not after she’d been banned from entering the competitions as a woman.

The first time she’d tried, everyone had laughed at her. No one had given her the time of day, even though most folk for miles around knew she’d been working with cattle since she’d moved to Colorado when she was twelve.

Fact was, after years of perfecting her cattle roping, she was a heap better than the majority of men. This past spring during branding time, the Healing Springs’ foreman had made her the main roper, giving her the job of heeling the calves and dragging them to the iron men. She rode steady, had perfect timing, and could judge distance.

But when it came to the competitions, her skills hadn’t mattered a lick. The organizers wouldn’t allow her to participate. Not until she’d come riding in as Buster Bliss. Then they’d been more than happy to let a scrawny man like Buster take part, thinking he’d be easy to beat.

Over the past month, she’d shown them Buster wasn’t as soft and fluffy as a goose-feather pillow. Buster had some gumption and grit. And he didn’t give up easily.

In no time, she was ready to ride with her pair of horses at one end of the open range next to the other two contestants and their horses. The finish line was near the main barn, where the spectators had congregated.

As she situated her boots on the backs of her mounts and adjusted the reins of both, she couldn’t keep from scanning the crowds. She didn’t care where Jericho was or what he was doing. She really didn’t. That wasn’t why she was searching for his lean frame. Nope, she was only looking so she knew where not to focus later.

When she didn’t catch sight of his stiff, proud shoulders or his handsome face, she released a breath. See, she had nothing to fear. Jericho had already left. That’s because he was an expert at leaving.

At the crack of a pistol from the side of the field, she shook the reins and started her horses. Riding while standing up and straddling two horses wasn’t an easy feat. Not many could do it. During the Roman-style racing the previous Sunday over at Bear Creek Ranch, one of the men had fallen and broken his shoulder and arm. He’d been real lucky he hadn’t cracked open his head with the way he’d landed.

Yep. This race was one of the most dangerous events. But that’s why she liked it. She thrived on danger. And the earnings were decent.