Page 42 of A Mustang River Christmas

This is Rome and we’re the gladiators. Though we aren’t prisoners of anything other than our own bullshit.

I think about my stepmom then – who surely didn’t want me to grow up to be a cowboy. My dad. My half-siblings. All the people who love me back in Gold Valley.

Then Sarah.

I always think about Sarah.

It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been since she got sent back to her mom, since we were separated in that last foster home, I think about her. Especially in these moments.

I touch the brim of my hat.

Those who are about to die salute you.

The bull bucks underneath me, and I nod to the men holding the gate. They release, and it’s on.

It’s either the fastest or slowest eight seconds imaginable. There’s not much in between. And I’m feeling it tonight. But I know what I need to do. I let out a breath, my body sinking into the rhythm. The movements. I’m hoping that I get a high enough score. That the bull doesn’t ruin this by being too kind to me. But then, he reverses his movements, planting both front feet down and shifting from a fluid twist to short, shocking movements. Good. That’s what I want. I want to compete. I want to win.

There’s nothing but me and the animal then. A fight for dominance. A fight for that win.

If my friend Colt Campbell scores better than me, I won’t mind so much. But if that bastard Maverick Quinn gets a high score, I swear⁠—

And then the time is up. I did it.

I follow the movement of the beast and jump off, landing on my feet, stumbling forward as the bull goes the other way.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. But I don’t take a bow.

I adjust my hat, look up, and begin to walk back toward the gate.

And that’s when I see her. Right there. I would think I was hallucinating except…

In all my memories, and my imagination of her, she’s not this.

When I think of Sarah, she’s that little girl who has nightmares. Who has to hold onto me at night in order to fall asleep. She’s the one person I want to protect more than anything in all the world. The person that I begged my parents to find, but they never could.

The last time I saw her, she was being carried away by a social worker, while she screamed and fought, and my foster parents held onto my arms, trying to keep me from stopping them. I pulled so hard I ended up with fingerprints on my arms, bruises where they’d kept me captive while I tried so hard…

I never saw her again.

Until now.

I know it’s her, and yet it’s not her.

Because this isn’t a vulnerable little girl standing there staring me down from the bleachers. No. This is a woman. She must be nineteen, twenty years old. Twenty, I think. I try to remember when her birthday was in connection to mine, but everything is jumbled up. I remember the little parties that I threw for her, but not the time of year. I guess you only remember the things that matter.

It’s like everything goes silent. Like it all stops. The edges of everything go fuzzy, but not Sarah.

I can’t hear her. But I see her move her mouth. “Dallas.”

And then, I suddenly catch movement out of the corner of my eye. The bull is running straight toward me. And I have to jump up to the side of the gate to escape, the bull fighters doing their part to lure the animal away while I climb up and over, back into the chute. And when I look back up, I don’t see her anymore. Did I hallucinate her? Was it a dream?

No. That can’t be. I’ve spent all these years looking for her. Ever since I was fourteen. It’s been ten years. I can’t lose her again. I can’t. My team is trying to talk to me, but I don’t want to hear it. I know my score is posting, judging by the sound the crowd makes, it’s good. But I think it’s the best. Suddenly, it doesn’t mean a damn thing.

My heart is pounding, my legs unsteady, it’s always like that after a ride. But this is different. This isn’t about the ride.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Colt is standing there, arms crossed, watching me.