Her laughter trilled as brilliantly clear as the sky blue Texas sky overhead. She glanced briefly over her shoulder, and saw the nose of the sorrel mare edging up on the flanks of her feisty little roan. She leaned low over the arched neck of her gelding and urged him forward with the barest nudge of her knees and whispered words of encouragement. The reaction was nearly instantaneous. The gelding knew what his rider wanted and kicked in the afterburners, pulling away from the trailing mare. As the towering gray-blue cypress tree whizzed past her periphery she eased up her posture, slowly reigning in the huffing horse. She crowed her victory as the nervy gelding pranced around in tight circles. She extended her hand to the rider of the other horse, a woman twice her age and with impeccable racing credentials.
"Damn that girl's like lightening," laughed Todd Kife, the county sheriff.
"Yep, she's beat the pants off of nearly every rider in the state, on horses that most wouldn't give ya two dimes for," agreed Avery Michaels.
Avery made some notes in his notebook. Nicole was building up a reputation for herself amongst the upper echelon of rodeo circuit. If she was hot in the arena, she was blistering outside of it. She had a fine seat, gentle touch, and nerves of steel. She'd push herself and her mount to the ragged edge of sanity and pull out a victory. He shook his head and laughed. To top it all off, she was easy on the eyes. Very easy on the eyes. Avery propped a foot up on the split rail fence and watched as she cantered the heated horse around the field, working him slowly to cool him down. He glanced again at his notes to refresh himself on her stats before interviewing her.
She was the twenty-six year old daughter of a cattle rancher and horse breeder. Reportedly she'd been able to ride before she could walk, and had spent nearly every day on a horse since. She was the antithesis of what one usually looked for in a rider. Where as diminutive stature was preferred, she hovered near the six foot mark. She was willowy in build, but with enough feminine curvature to turn more than a few heads. She had fair, milk-white skin, unblemished by freckles, and a mane of raven tresses that was usually plaited into a braid as thick as most men's forearms. The most startling attribute, however, was her eyes. They were as blue as sapphires and sparkled with a mischievous glint that seemed to hint at hidden knowledge.
On a more professional note, she was becoming the undisputed champion of the barrel racing, and cutting horse circuits. Every contest she had entered two years ago, she had won. She'd come out of seemingly no-where and left the spectators, and fellow contestants spell bound. The way she moved on a horse was magic. Her concentration was fierce and it seemed as if she and the animal were one. Her prowess in the arena was fast becoming the stuff of legends. How she took a broken down seven year old mare, and rehabilitated her into the epitome of speed and accuracy. She was a red hot brand, and she was leaving her mark.
Avery had to shake himself from his reverie when Nicole approached the fence. She swung down easily from the horses back, affectionately patting his neck and nuzzling his nose. She was sunshine and giggles as the horse whuffed softly against her, and nibbled her shoulder with those large warm lips. A stable hand appeared inside the paddock and took the reigns from Nicole and led the horse off. She was exhilarated from the ride, and the color showed high in her cheeks. She tugged off the riding gloves, smacked them against her denim clad thigh and tucked them into her back pocket, before extending one perfectly manicured hand toward Avery.
"Good morning Mr. Michaels," Nicole drawled softly.
"Good morning to you Ms. Everitt," He answered with genuine enthusiasm. "And please, call me Avery."
"Only if you will call me Nikki," she winked playfully and then turned her attention briefly to the sheriff.
"Mornin' Sheriff. What brings you out and about?" she queried.
"Aww, not much ma'am. Just showing this young pup how to get to the ranch, but as I can tell you two don't need any introduction. I also needed to follow up with yer ol' man about those coyotes that brought down that calf," returned Sheriff Kife.
Nicole nodded and smiled, turning to point to the main house. "I think Pops is in his downstairs office. Just go through the back door, and make yourself at home."
Sheriff Kife tipped his gray Stetson and excused himself, heading up to the main house with the walk of a man that's been astride a horse's back a tad too long. Nicole's gaze followed him for just a few moments, but her attention was truly on the man that stood on the other side of the fence from her. She turned back to Avery, and with a practiced ease assessed him in one rapid glace that took in everything about him in less than two seconds.
He wasn't a city slicker like some of the other reporters that had come down lately to interview her. No, this was a man's man. Even as tall as she was, Avery towered over her. It was unusual for her to have to tilt her head back to look a man full in the face. She guesstimated that Avery was in his mid-forties. He was broad of shoulder, with a nicely barreled chest leading to a slimmer waist. His wranglers weren't overly tight but suggested a nicely sized package somewhere beneath the hugging denim. The most noticeable difference was that Avery was black. His skin was the color of a crossing of caramel and chocolate, that glowed with the smooth satiny sheen of health. It made her almost giddy just to be near him.
