To Tame a Cowboy. Jules Bennett

he was a legend? Morons. Didn’t even know her father was pretty much a celebrity.

      And the hair comments they kept tossing her way? Yeah, there was hardly a day that went by she didn’t have to hear something about “carrot top” or “finger in a light socket” or “Bozo the Clown.” So it was red and curly. To be honest, she liked being different from all these other stupid kids.

      “Don’t let them get to you.”

      Piper spun around on the playground. A boy at least a head taller than her stood with his thumbs hanging in his belt loops. He had a head full of messy dark brown hair and the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen. And he was wearing a flannel shirt. Obviously they were the only two cool kids.

      “I’m not letting them get to me,” she told him, lifting her chin in defiance. “I don’t care about those smelly boys or this dumb school.”

      He laughed. “My name is Ryan Grant. Thought you could use a friend if you were tired of playing alone.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m not. Those losers have no idea how awesome this belt buckle is,” she told the boy. “My dad got it for me when he won the PRCA title last year.”

      The boy stepped forward, his brows raised. “Your dad won the PRCA title?”

      “Yeah.”

      He shook his head. “You don’t have to lie to make friends.”

      Piper shoved her hands onto her hips and glared at the annoying kid. “I don’t have to lie at all because my father is the coolest man ever. There’s not a bronc he can’t ride.”

      Okay, probably there was, but still. Her dad was the coolest and he got paid for riding and being a cowboy. Could any of those other loser kids say that?

      “What’s your dad’s name?” Ryan asked, obviously still skeptical.

      “Walker Kindred.”

      Ryan laughed. “You’re lying.”

      “I don’t care what you think. My name is Piper Kindred and Walker is my father. Like you know anything about the rodeo anyway. You probably don’t even know what PRCA stands for.”

      “Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association,” he shot back. “And I know who Walker Kindred is.”

      “Then why do you say I’m lying?”

      “Because, well...you’re a girl. I’ve never seen a girl who knows about the rodeo.”

      Why were boys so dumb? For real?

      Piper sighed, so ready to be done with recess and get back inside where she could just concentrate on her schoolwork and get another miserable day behind her.

      “Whatever,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “I don’t care what you think if you’re going to be just as stupid as the others.”

      He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Okay, since you got to ask me a rodeo question, I get to ask you one. I bet you can’t answer it.”

      Piper had had enough. She clenched her fist and plowed it into his nose. When he landed on his butt on the blacktop, she loomed over him.

      “I don’t have time for jerks who think I’m lying,” she told him. “I’ve grown up around the circuit. Walker is my father and if you have any more stupid things to say, I have another fist waiting on you.”

      Ryan shook his head and came back to his feet. Surprisingly, he was grinning.

      “You pack a mean punch, even if you are a girl.”

      Piper eyed him. Apparently that was a compliment.

      “You wanna hang after school?” he asked, holding his hand to his nose then looking at it to see if he was bleeding.

      Piper figured they’d just made some sort of bond so she nodded. “Sure, but don’t think just because I’m a girl that I don’t know everything about the rodeo.”

      Ryan laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Red.”

      She sighed and headed toward the double doors as the bell rang for them to go back inside.

      If the worst he called her was Red, he might just become her one and only friend.

      One

      Piper Kindred did a double take at the black sports car. Her heart sank, bile rising in her throat. No, it couldn’t be.

      Oh, sweet mercy. There was no way this massive accident would have no casualties. Wreckage lay crushed with mangled pieces across the median, shattered glass scattered along the stretch of highway, a black BMW on its top and a large tractor-trailer on its side, blocking both lanes of traffic.

      As a paramedic, Piper had seen plenty of wrecks, fatalities and gut-wrenching scenes, but nothing settled fear as deep within her as seeing the familiar car that was so often in her driveway...the car that belonged to her best friend, Ryan Grant.

      The ambulance barely came to a stop before Piper grabbed her heavy red medical bag, hopped out and hit the ground running. The warm November sun beat down on her back as she ran toward the chilling scene.

      The medic in her couldn’t get to the victims fast enough. The woman in her feared what she’d uncover once she reached Ryan.

      Once closer, she squatted in an attempt to see the inside of the vehicle. A wave of relief swept through her the second she realized the car was empty. Okay, so he wasn’t trapped, but what was the extent of his injuries?

      Sirens blared in near surround sound between the police, ambulances and a fire truck trying to assist the wounded and clean up the mess.

      Piper tried to keep her eye out for Ryan, hoping she’d see him sitting in the back of an ambulance with just an ice pack on his head. But her duty was to assist where needed...not to seek out those most important in her life.

      As she moved closer to the tractor-trailer, where the majority of the cops seemed to be congregated, she noticed numerous Hispanic people huddled together. With disheveled clothes, scraggly beards and various cuts and bruises, Piper couldn’t help but wonder what they were all doing at the scene of an accident involving only one semi and the car of her best friend.

      Piper ran to the group of obviously injured men and women. Some were crying, some had their heads dropped between their shoulders and some were shouting Spanish slang even she didn’t understand because of the rapid rate, but she could tell they were angry and scared.

      As Piper passed two uniformed police officers she heard the words illegal and FBI. Yeah, this was so much more than an ill-fated accident. By the number of uniformed officers scouring the area, it looked as though these people were not here legally.

      Moments later she heard other officers discussing how so many stowaways were hidden in such a small compartment in the back of that semi. This situation was beyond what Piper was used to. Her job right now was to assess and treat the victims, not to worry about the legalities of this mess.

      “Where do you need me?” she asked another paramedic who was examining a man’s leg beneath his torn pants.

      “The truck driver was pretty shaken,” the paramedic told her. “He’s sitting in the back of a squad car for questioning right now. No visible injuries, but his pupils were dilated and he did say his back was hurting. Seems he was driving this illegal group and he had no clue.”

      Piper nodded, gripped her bag tighter and headed toward the squad car closest to the overturned semi. Sure enough a trooper had his forearm resting on the roof of the car as he leaned in and listened to whatever the man seated in the back was saying.

      “I swear I had no clue what was in the back of my truck. Please, you’ve got to believe me,” the driver pleaded. “I was just trying to get into the other lane and that car came out of nowhere. I didn’t see him at all.”

      According