“And never successfully,” he snapped. “Les? Let yourself slide in the saddle with the horse’s motion. One hand on the reins. The loose reins. And one hand on the pommel.”
Grady nodded to one of the boys hanging on the fence. “Bring out the herd.”
“Herd? What herd?” Freddy gasped. When she remembered her audience, the hand that had flown to her chest moved on up to adjust a curl behind her ear.
“We’re going to put Daisy in the middle of the milk cows,” Frisco said, watching her. “You go first. You ride into the herd, cut Daisy out.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Then you run her into that pen. It’s your turn after that,” he said to Les. Frisco gave them one of those lazy, hard-eyed smiles that rolled Freddy’s stomach up in knots and made her face feel hot. “You can both do this. Ride slowly into the herd, let your horse know which cow you want, then let the horse do the rest.”
“It’s a longhorn,” Les said in anguish. “Must we have an audience? Can’t you send those men away?”
Lifting his head, Frisco scanned the men along the fence, watching them exchanging money, taking bets. His gaze lingered on Ward Hamm before he looked down at Les. “Handling cattle has to be second nature. Most of the time someone is nearby, watching, and it might be your fiancé since he insists on accompanying this drive.”
Grady led Freddy’s horse up to where they were talking. “Get your butt up there,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
It was about to happen. And the only way she was going to get through this was to think of it as a performance. Frantically, she reminded herself that she knew her role, and hopefully Daisy knew hers. Wishing she hadn’t seen the hands placing bets, she placed her boot in the stirrup and swung up on the horse. And it occurred to her that a short time ago she couldn’t have mounted without assistance.
Clinging to this small encouraging realization, she settled herself firmly, trying to look like this was something she wanted to do. For an instant she met Frisco’s steady gaze, but she couldn’t decipher what she saw in his eyes. He sat easy on his horse, shoulders slumped, his body relaxed as if the hard leather saddle were as comfortable as a parlor chair.
“No theatrics, Freddy,” he said in a low voice that only she could hear. “Just ride in nice and easy, do what we’ve been practicing, and that’s it.”
That was the difference between her and most people. She knew good theater. Breathing deeply, she immersed herself in the role. Once again, she was Fancy Roark, ingenue, commanding the role of cattle queen. She’d show Frisco how this scene should be played.
Spinning her horse smartly, thrilled that she knew how to do it, she shouted her opening line and galloped toward the herd. “Yee hah!” She could do this. Daisy was just a prop.
By the time she finished talking herself out of her stage fright, she realized that she should have reached the little herd, but she hadn’t. The cows were running as fast as her horse. In all directions. Heading out to the open range. The scene was deteriorating badly.
A man sped past on her right, another blew by on the left. Then Frisco’s buckskin cut in front of her. Her horse planted his feet in a hard stop, and only a miracle prevented her from flying over his head. Her heart was the only thing that sailed to the ground. Placing a hand on her chest, she gulped for air, then blinked hard.
Frisco leaned toward her, his teeth bared and his eyes as hard as nails. “You little fool! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You ever pull a stunt like this again and you’re off this drive, do you hear me? Haven’t you learned a single damned thing?”
“I didn’t fall off,” she said in a wondering voice. She didn’t know why her audience wasn’t applauding wildly, they should have been.
“Take a good look, Freddy.” Anger heated Frisco’s face, and his expression was carved in granite. “You just started a stampede and it’s going to take the boys thirty minutes to round up those cows.” Disgust darkened his stare. “Now get your butt out there and help them. I want you to bring back Daisy. You, Freddy. Bring her back here and get her in the pen.”
She lifted her chin, furious that he was chastising her when people were watching, and rode away. Before she got Daisy back to the pen and inside, she’d fallen off her horse twice. She’d split out the seams on both shoulders of her bodice, lost her hat, and hair was streaming down her back. She was soaked with sweat and furious.
But she’d brought Daisy back. She’d chased after a longhorn, turned her around, and made the animal go where she wanted it to go. As she slid off her horse, trembling with excitement and exhaustion, she had a feeling that life was never again going to be the same. She had done something that even she had not believed in her heart that she could do.