Rancher's Daughter

Sighing, Shiloh swung herself out of the bed. The sun had just begun to peek out over the fields. She had to be in Cheyenne by nightfall. Her muscles protested as she stood, drawing tight before unwinding. A knock came from her door, making her frown.

"Sweetie, are you awake?" came her father's voice. At 25, Shiloh was John Dutton's youngest child. The baby; and everyone knew it.

"I'm awake, Papa," she called, shuffling to her closet.

"Jamie's waiting downstairs for you. Need to leave soon."

"Gimme five." His retreating footsteps were the only response. Grabbing her duffle, Shiloh tossed in her good jeans, caramel cowboy boots with poppies stitched on them, and a black button up. Shiloh was a barrel racer. A pretty good one too. But the Dutton's didn't do rodeo, so she knew that she was treading on thin ice with her father. He indulged her, more than the others, but Shiloh knew it would only get her so far. She shimmied her jeans from the day before up her hips and threw a AC-DC shirt over her sport bra clad upper body before stuffing her feet into her shit-kickers and snatching her hat off of the hook.

As promised, Jamie was in the kitchen waiting for his little sister. "Hey, Kiddo. Ryan's loading up Sweet P, then we need to head out," he greeted, pecking her forehead. Shiloh nodded, grabbing her travel mug and pouring coffee in, adding a healthy amount of sugar and creamer and reaching for her bag.

"I got it," came the husky voice of Rip Wheeler. Shiloh smiled up at him as he slung her duffle bag over his shoulder and motioned for her to lead the way outside. Rip had been a part of Shiloh's life since before she could remember. He'd taken her under his wing, and she hadn't escaped from under it yet. He was overprotective of her, and pushed her to be better. He was the only one who came to see her ride. He was usually in the stands, supporting her. He wouldn't be there today, and Shiloh assumed that he was going to give her one of his pep-talks before she left with Jamie. Not having anyone there was going to be hard, but she'd manage. Jamie had business in Cheyenne, which is why he was driving her today, but he wouldn't be at the rodeo.

"You ready for tonight?" Rip questioned, tossing her bag in the backseat.

"Yeah. Guess so."

"Sorry I won't be there. We gotta move the herd up today."

"It's ok, Rip. I know you're busy." Rip sighed at her, rolling his eyes.

"Don't go church mouse on me, Shi. Listen, go out there and kick ass. I know you will. You always do." Shiloh smiled at him.

"I'll try, but I don't know. I ain't got my good luck charm there today," she teased, giving him a shit eating smile. He scoffed, turning to leave.

"I'll spank that pretty little ass if you don't bring home a buckle tonight, Little girl," he threatened, pointing a finger at her as he walked backwards out of sight.

...

Sweet Potato Pie, Shiloh's horse, paced back and forth in the wings of the coliseum. Shiloh was up next, and she breathed through the anxiety that always built before her ride. "Angel Eyes", her theme song, began to blare, and the horn sounded, and Shiloh led Sweet P into a trot, letting everything else fade.

...

The closing ceremony is always bittersweet for Shiloh. She knew her time on the circuit was limited, and she wasn't ready to give it up just yet. But with new buckle in hand, Shiloh made her way to the parking lot to meet her brother. He was on his phone, as usual, so she loaded up Sweet P and closed up the trailer before getting in the truck.

"Hey, Kiddo. How'd it go?" Jamie asked. Shiloh shrugged, knowing he didn't really care.

"Won the buckle," she finally said, reaching in the back for her bag of clothes. "Can you stop at the truck stop so I can change and get a snack?"