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thought women were interchangeable snatches! As if one second he could eye-fuck Olivia even though she had a damned boyfriend, then the next second he could be pressing his throbbing hard-on against me!
    I’d show him a thing or two.
    “I don’t want to see you anywhere around Hardscrabble!” I shrieked, before sprinting off to my friends.
    The last thing I saw was the hilarious sight of Mr. Asshole “Dynomite” Drummond clutching his balls, his giant erection fading fast, punctured like a basketball. He had a sour look on his face, like he was sucking on a lemon. I was pleased.
    I found Lawson stalking around the alleyways behind the bleachers. He had a clod of horse shit smashed to the back of his head and various pieces of hay clung to his elbows and ass. He glared at me.
    “Where you been? I been sitting here dangled like a marionette at the hands of that blitzed John Redcorn and you’re nowhere to be found!”
    The truth was, I’d been extremely turned on by my encounter with my stepbrother behind the bleachers. Even as Lawson yelled at me, my pussy lips bloomed with desire. Yes, desire , plain and simple! I tingled all over, up and down my spine. It stiffened my nipples, sending a wave of goose flesh across the surface of my ass. I was on fire , and it wasn’t for this clod, that was for sure. Dyno “Dynomite” Drummond had done his best work on me. And I was ashamed I was falling for it.
    I had to brush it off. “I’m sorry, Lawson. I had to pee.”
    But I wasn’t his chief concern. He kept glancing over to the parking lot, sort of looking over his shoulder behind some stables. Were they doing something to poor Sequoia Crooks? I frowned.
    “What are you up to, Lawson? Where’s Sequoia?”
    Lawson grinned sheepishly. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head over that ol’ buffalo jockey. He’ll be fine.”
    Olivia came trotting up. “April! Where’d you go with that hellafine piece of man candy? He’s about to ride that nasty chute fighter! See?”
    We rushed back to the bleachers nearest the bucking chute. “I told you,” I said breathlessly, “he’s my fucking stepbrother , Olivia. I don’t want to hear any grossness coming from your mouth, like that.”
    “Oh, man.” With arms crossed under her shelf of boobs, Olivia admired the way the rag doll that was Dyno held onto the bareback rigging. “He’s one tough customer.”
    The plank of wood we stood on thundered with each buck of that bronc. The gate hadn’t even been opened yet, and it was a fearsome sight to behold. The sheer power of the gelding. Knowing it could just kick out a section of fence at the drop of a hat. One mighty kick in the head and it was all over. The pickup man, the clowns, the hazers actually had the most frightening jobs of all. Actually, the bareback bronc rider was undeniably the most admirable athlete in all of rodeo.
    Some people liked the steer wrestlers, the bulldoggers. That’s okay. It takes a lot of muscle mass and pure strength to drag that big thing to the ground, and a lot of risk for the cowboy. But I’m telling you, there’s nothing to beat sheer manliness as bronc riding, especially the bareback variety. This was the sport that had made me a buckle bunny to begin with.
    And Dyno was out of the chute like a shot!
    I don’t remember what I was screaming. I was just glad that Lawson wasn’t within earshot. I definitely recall hearing Olivia shriek, “Go, Dyno! Stay with ’im! Ride ’im hard!”
    Dyno was in fine form. Both his spurs were touching the gelding’s shoulders, and his free hand flailed almost gracefully. He thrashed like a jackhammer, taking the brunt of the abuse on his arms and back. Bareback bronc was the most physically demanding “rough stock” event in all of rodeo, and the danger added to the thrill.
    I shrieked so loudly it gave me a sore throat.
    It was the most exciting fifteen seconds in all of rodeo. I was vaguely aware that Lawson, Kemp and the others had hit