Chapter 2

They said it was a bad sprain, maybe a small fracture in my wrist.

The "Lone Star Rodeo Queen" sash went to Clara Belle Hayes.

She looked surprised, then tearfully grateful.

I lay on a cot in the medic tent, a lavish bouquet of roses already beside me with a "Get Well Soon, Sarah" card from Victoria Hamilton.

Of course.

Through the tent flap, I saw Blake swing Clara Belle into a hug, her face buried in his chest.

They were a picture, golden and triumphant.

Gossip buzzed like flies.

"Poor Sarah Jenkins, such a terrible accident."

"She almost had it."

"Clara Belle must be thrilled, though. Blake looks smitten."

I smiled, a tight, painful stretch of my lips.

"I'm happy for her," I told anyone who asked, "And Mrs. Hamilton's flowers are lovely."

They looked confused. I didn't care.

I remembered how Blake must have secretly coached Clara Belle in our first life, how he'd smoothed her path. She wasn't that good, not really.

Clara Belle herself appeared, all wide eyes and Southern sweetness.

"Oh, Sarah, honey, I feel just awful that this happened to you."

Her voice was like warm honey, laced with something I now recognized as poison.

"Are you sure you're okay? Will you still help me train sometimes? You know I'm not as good as you."

Before I could answer, Blake was there, his arm around Clara Belle's waist, protective.

"Clara Belle is the new Queen," he announced, his gaze sweeping over me, cool and assessing. "And I don't want anyone upsetting her or spreading any foolishness about Sarah being the better rider. Accidents happen."

He looked directly at me. "We're all friends here, right, Sarah?"

The pressure was immense.

"Right, Blake," I said, my voice flat. "Friends."

It felt like swallowing glass.