Montana Hearts Read Online Free PDF

knowing they all had to do whatever it took to keep the Hamiltons and their one hundred guests from finding another venue. “They will,” Luke assured her. “Tell him they will.”
    As soon as he could build one.
    S AMMY J O ROUNDED the first barrel, already a fraction of a second behind where she wanted to be. She gave Tango an extra tap with the heel of her boot and pressed on. In professional barrel racing, an eighth of a second could make all the difference between a cash prize and going home with her pockets empty. But it wasn’t Tango’s fault. He’d been eager to leave the alley and take his turn in the arena. No, today the problem was her own. Her head . . . or maybe her heart . . . just wasn’t in it.
    She and Tango rounded the second fifty-­five-­gallon drum and her balance was off, making her trusty horse circle too wide. Another fraction of a second lost.
    They approached the third barrel just fine, kicking up dust, but by then it was too late. Their completion of the clover leaf pattern had not beaten the top three competitors’ scores. She gave Tango an affectionate pat on the neck as an apology for letting him down. For she knew, if it hadn’t been for her sloppy cues, her beloved quarter horse would have won.
    â€œBetter luck next time,” one her circuit buddies consoled.
    Sammy Jo gave her a nod, and flashed a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, Tango will be raring to go at the next rodeo.”
    But would she ? As her friend rode into the arena for her shot at the prized purse and accompanying buckle, Sammy Jo’s smile slipped into a frown.
    All her life she’d wanted to race barrels, and she had, winning many competitions and making it into the finals several times. But since the Collins siblings had returned to Fox Creek, her enthusiasm for the sport had waned. Instead of concentrating on the performance pattern, she’d been thinking of Luke and how his eyes used to twinkle right before mounting a wild bronc in the bull pen. How once in a while he would turn that twinkling gaze on her and how she wished he’d do it more.
    She also thought of all the other women her age who were already married and brought their children to the horse camp where she worked a few days each week. Over the last year a creeping emptiness had taken root inside her and had only grown worse when Delaney returned with little Meghan, and Ryan asked Bree to marry him and be a mother to his seven-­year-­old son.
    Sammy Jo had always considered her horses her kids. She’d had several of them over the years. But now she suddenly found herself longing for a child she could ride with and not ride on. And a loving husband to ride beside them.
    A man of her own choosing. She shuddered as the image of the guy her father brought home for dinner came to mind. She’d thought her father had been bringing home a date for himself, not for her . Ugh.
    After Harley Bennett left, she’d confronted her father in the living room.
    â€œHe’s not the one who sells the mangy horses to the meat factory,” her father argued. “He’s just paid to transport them.”
    â€œNo self-­respecting cowboy could ever do that,” she’d snapped back. “Driving the horses to their deaths makes him an accomplice in their murders.”
    â€œStrong words for someone who helped Luke Collins steal a crate of Thanksgiving turkeys and set them loose in a field full of hunters.”
    She shuddered. “That was a long time ago, and . . . that was a mistake. We thought we were saving them. We didn’t know the hunters were there.”
    â€œI’ll tell you what. You hanging around with that Collins kid is a mistake. Why do you think I brought Harley home? To get your mind off those no-­good neighbors of ours.”
    â€œYou admit you tried to set me up?” she demanded. “How could you! I’m twenty-­seven