If I think of Texas as a sundae, cowboys are the cherry on top. Up until now, my appreciation of Wrangler-wearing cowboys has been from afar. I’d love for that to change.
Finding guys to go out with hasn’t been a problem, but so far, I’ve only been on boring first dates. Is it wrong to crave a little excitement? Or maybe it’s not about excitement at all. Maybe I haven’t met the right guy.
But surely cowboys aren’t boring. I mean, look at them.
Working as an influencer—it’s a real job—I’ve seen a lot of Texas, but the cowboys at this small-town festival are gorgeous. The street is buzzing with people, and the guys are half a block away, but if I keep staring, they’ll notice. Is that a bad thing?
“Bella, look over there. Why didn’t you tell me that I could wander into one of these small towns so close to San Antonio and see cowboys everywhere? It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“What cowboys?” Bella winks. “I’m quite sure my husband doesn’t want me checking out the guys in Wranglers.”
“True. Javi might object to that. I’ll look for both of us then.” I bump her shoulder. “Wait! How did you know they were wearing Wranglers?”
Dancing her eyebrows up and down, she turns her phone and snaps a picture of the horses all lined up. “How did you manage to be part of the parade?”
While she’s taking pictures of the horse, I snap a few pictures of the cowboys. And I’m noticed. One tips his hat, and I capture a wide smile. He’s a cutie. The other cowboy who has his back to me glances over his shoulder. Oh my! I lift my phone to snap another pic—because that’s the kind of photo that gets attention and the kind I’d love to have in my photos just to look at—but he turns back around so fast, I can feel the whip of breeze it creates even from far away.
The first guy swats the second guy’s arm, then lifts his eyebrows as he looks at me and shrugs. I wave off the silent apology.
“Did you even hear me?” Humor laces Bella’s question.
“Sorry. I was distracted.” I tap into my subconscious to figure out what she asked. “Parade? Right. The girl who lives across the street from me has a cousin who lives out this way somewhere and knows this rancher guy, Mr. Putnam. I may be missing a connection in there. Anyway, Mr. Putnam sent word that I was welcome to come ride in the parade. That’s how. And I should probably go find him, so I can get settled in the wagon.”
Bella scans the area. “I don’t see any wagons.”
“Maybe they just aren’t here yet.” I want to believe that, but the tickle in my gut starts. And it only happens when something bad is about to happen. As I look at all the horses lined up, a terrifying thought takes root. “You don’t think . . .”
“That he meant riding a horse?” She bobs her head. “I absolutely do.”
“Oh no.” I breathe through my panic as I stare at the horses. The stunning cowboy—the one who didn’t give me a chance to take his picture—checks the saddle on a black horse. Its back comes to the cowboy’s shoulder. I probably don’t even come to his shoulder.
That would make the horse’s back taller than me.
That’s a long way off the ground. My small issue with heights is something I try to keep a secret. But Bella knows about my fear.
She gives me a look. “What are you going to tell Mr. Putnam?”
“Thank you. That’s what I’ll tell him.” I pull my gaze away from the horses and find the bright side. “Pictures of me on a horse will be fabulous in my feed. It won’t be a problem. I’ll handle it.” I kick up a heel. “And I wore boots.”
These red cowgirl boots look adorable with my white sundress, but I’m more accustomed to being in heels. Today is the exception. I wish I’d also traded my dress for a pair of jeans.
“They’re super cute, but that’s not going to solve your problem.” Bella gives me the smile that’s really a warning wrapped in a pretty package. She shakes her head. “Daisy.”
“We could be wrong. Let’s just find the man.”
She looks from side to side. “Do you have any idea what this Mr. Putnam looks like?”
“Nope. But we can ask the cowboys.” I dodge a few children chasing each other down the street, then head over toward the friendly one, who is still beside the hot one.
As I approach, Mr. Friendly smiles and sticks out his hand. “Howdy. I’m Parker.”
Who doesn’t like a man who flashes a friendly smile and introduces himself? Now I’m even more convinced that a cowboy is what I need in my life.
“Hi, Parker. I’m Daisy.” I glance at Mr. Looks Great in a Pair of Jeans, but he’s staring at a doodlebug on the sidewalk. I choose not to take that as a slight, even though he seems to find the bug more interesting than me. “I’m hoping you can help, Parker. A Mr. Putnam invited me, but I’ve never actually met the man. Do you know him?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s around.” Parker spins around, scanning the street.
Mr. Won’t Give Me His Name points across the street to a man wearing a plaid shirt and overalls. “He’s the one with the turkey leg in his fist.” His gaze is still fixed on the little bug crawling along the crack in the sidewalk.
I’m tempted to pick up the bug just to see if it would draw this cowboy’s gaze up to mine. Desperate is not normally my thing, but this guy is someone I’d love to get to know. My assessment is based totally on looks, but relationships have to start somewhere.
“Fabulous. Thanks so much.” I tap his upper arm, and it’s every bit as firm as I imagined walking over.
He gives a curt nod.
Parker chuckles. “Don’t mind him. Come on. I’ll walk you over and introduce you.”
I motion for Bella to follow as Parker and I start across the street. Traffic has been cut off for the parade, and we’re dodging people rather than cars as we make our way over.
The gentlemen gathered near the food tables look up as we approach.
Then Parker extends his hand to the man in overalls. “Larry Putnam, this lady is looking for you.”
Mr. Putnam laughs as he shakes hands. “Those are the words every man wants to hear. You must be Daisy.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me be a part of the parade.”
He looks me over. “You going to ride in that dress?”
I will not be dissuaded by the incredulity in his voice. Surely, I’m not the first woman to ride a horse while wearing a dress. “I was planning on it.” I avoid looking at Bella because I know she’ll just flash me another warning smile. “Is that a problem?”
“Hopefully not.” Holding the turkey leg like it’s a small scepter, he turns to face Bella. “You riding too?”
“Oh, no. I’m just here to shoot video and take some pictures.” Bella holds up her phone like that’s proof. “I’m not riding a horse.”
“Yeah, Bella’s just here to watch.” I’m lucky to have a friend who will wander with me just to get a bunch of pictures.
“Okay then. Wait here a sec.” Mr. Putnam gnaws at his drumstick as he walks away.
Parker tips his hat. “Nice to meet you, Daisy. I need to run so my friend and I can make sure the horses are ready.”
“Thanks for your help.” I wave, then lean close to Bella. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“But the other one, who acts like he’ll be charged per word, he’s on another level of good-looking. Holy cow. Did you see him?”
“I saw. Think he’s shy or snobby?”
“Not sure. The black cowboy hat makes him look a bit . . . I don’t know.”
“Exciting?”
“Something like that. Anyway, he’s capable of speaking, but direct eye contact not so much. Either he’s shy or an entomologist who prefers bugs to people. Or both. I’d go out with him though. Okay, so . . .” Nerves are making me jittery, but this has the potential to be amazing content. “I need you to get some great shots of me on that horse, and some video would be even better. I can put it all together to make a reel about the event. Maybe I should end it with a shot of the label on the back of his jeans.”
“And have The End written over it.”
“Yep. That’s exactly what I was thinking. Because, when he was making it a point not to look at me, I snapped a good one.” I swipe to the photo and show Bella.
“It’s a great pic. You know, the lighting and composition and stuff.”
As I poke her, she points behind me.
Mr. Putnam nods toward the horses. “Let’s get you up there. Should be starting in a few minutes.”
I fall into step beside him. “I’ve never been to this festival and parade before. It looks like a lot of fun. All the games set up on the street, the food trucks. It’s fabulous.”
“Be sure to grab one of the missus’s mini cobblers. Best thing you’ve ever tasted.” Mr. Putnam pats his stomach. “I’ve had a few more than I should’ve.”
His hands are now empty, and I can’t help but wonder where he’s stashed the turkey leg.
“I’ll have to try one.” I love all things chocolate, but anything sweet is worth at least a try.
Bella quietly walks alongside me, snapping pictures like the wonderful friend she is.
When we reach a monster of a horse, Mr. Putnam drops a wooden box onto the ground. “Step up here. Put your foot into the stirrup, then swing your leg over. Think you can do that?”
“Oh, sure. Yeah.” I’m just not sure how I’ll do that without flashing the nice people of this town.
After a couple of attempts and no peep shows, I’m sitting in the saddle, intentionally not looking at the ground. I can do this. People ride horses all the time. In a parade, they don’t even go fast. This isn’t a problem. My self-talk isn’t helping much.
Mr. Putnam gives me instructions about getting the horse to move, and I soak up every word. This is information I need to survive.
“Okay. I think I understand.” I cling to the reins and force a smile.
“Great. Well, sit tight. I’ll be back to check in soon.” Mr. Putnam drags a sleeve across his brow. “It’s a hot one today.”
Every day in July is hot. “Sure is.”
He saunters away, leaving me to stew.
If I don’t die, this will be great for engagement. I had so much engagement when I posted about eating pork shots and brisket brittle at the state fair, but now I’m sitting on a real horse. My fans are going to love it.
Me? Not so much.
Bella cocks her head, giving me the look that says she can read my thoughts. “You sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure. Just please get good video. I’m going to need it for my reel.” Maintaining people’s attention means trying new things and pushing my boundaries. “I can do this.”
“It’s not a question of if you can. I’m just not sure you should.” Bella steps closer and is about to say something else when the horse shifts.
“Back up. You’re making him nervous.” I hold onto the reins like my life depends on it.
“I think he’s bothered by your stress level, Daisy. You’re making him nervous. You don’t like heights.”
Having her state what we both know is true doesn’t change anything. Everyone has to face fears at some point. Today is my day.
She gets a mischievous look in her eye. “Or maybe this horse doesn’t like redheads.”
I stick my tongue out at her.
Mr. Putnam saunters back up, and I pray he didn’t hear Bella’s comments. “Miss, you about ready? Herbert here is a good horse. He’ll follow behind those guys up there who will be holding the sign. Just remember what I said about how to get him to move.”
“I remember. Thank you.”
He drags a sleeve across his brow again. “You can loosen your hold on those reins. Nothing to worry about.”
It’s easy for him to say. He’s not sitting on an animal that’s shifting like it’s playing a game of don’t step on lava. But I loosen my hold, which lasts all of a half second.
“As y’all go along, just wave.” Mr. Putnam hooks his thumbs on his overalls and grins. “People love that.”
Wave. Right. Elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist. That part I can handle. But I’ve never waved from on top a horse before.
Two other cowboys join Parker and the unnamed one, who I’ll just call Mr. Wranglers because . . . yeah. So far, all of them are nine and up on a one-to-ten scale. Except Mr. Wranglers. He’s a twelve. And a half.
“Bella, will you get some video now before it starts? And make sure to include them.” I nod toward Parker and his friends, which seems to annoy my horse, so I sit up straight in my saddle.
Mr. Putnam chuckles. Clearly, he overheard every word. “Those guys are from the ranch up the way, St—”
Loud pops echo around me, which startles me, and I accidentally kick my horse’s sides. Herbert takes off like he’s been shot. Oh no, what if he has been shot?
I’m trying to remember what Mr. Putnam said to do if I wanted the horse to stop. Pull the reins.
The reins. Trying to coordinate my brain and limbs, I glance at my hands. They’re empty. The reins are flopping along the ground beside the horse.
When did I let go?
Gripping the little ball at the front of the saddle, I focus on staying on the horse. This is bad. My feet have come out of the stirrups, and my boots are bumping Herbert’s sides, which spurs him on faster.
Breezes are blowing in places they wouldn’t be if I’d worn jeans instead of this dress. People dive out of the way as the horse races through the crowd. I’m not sure if the screams I hear are mine or of those afraid of being trampled.
If I’m going to die, I don’t want to see it coming. With my eyes squeezed closed, I hang on to the little knobby thing.
Wind slaps my face as the horse gallops. Where is it going? What happens if it gets into traffic?
After what feels like the longest hour of my life—though I’m sure it’s only been a few minutes—Herbert slows to a stop.
He’s making noises like he’s agitated and is still dancing around like the pavement is too hot for his horseshoes.
I’m afraid to open my eyes. And moving is completely out of the question.
But I can feel fabric touching my legs. That’s a plus.
