Stalking Season. Sandra Robbins

in one hand a box of popcorn in the other. They pushed and shoved each other as they were herded toward the arena by several adults who already looked weary.

      Luke stepped up to the first ticket window, smiled at Josie Hatcher—the wife of Brent Hatcher, one of his oldest friends—and handed her the money for his ticket. “Hi, Josie. One, please.”

      Josie grinned at him and slid one ticket and a program across the counter. “I keep thinking that one of these days you’re going to surprise me and buy two tickets. There are plenty of girls in town who’d love to come to the show with you. Why don’t you break down and ask one out? You might find you really like it.”

      He smiled and shook his head. “Since Brent took you out of commission I haven’t been able to find anybody,” he teased.

      She laughed and shook her head. “You’d better watch out. You’re not getting any younger, and one of these days when you least expect it some girl is going to have you lassoed and hog-tied before you know it.”

      He arched his eyebrows and tried to look horrified. “I don’t think so. Not if I can help it.”

      Josie’s eyes darkened and she tilted her head to one side. “Luke, you know Brent and I are some of your oldest friends. All I’m saying is that not every woman is like Jasmine. You just have to keep looking.”

      Luke’s face grew warm, and he scowled. “I’m not interested in looking.” He exhaled and picked up his ticket. “Is Brent riding tonight?”

      Josie nodded and sighed as if she knew it was time to change the subject. “Yes, he’s leading the opening parade, and he’s driving in the buckboard shuffle tonight. We have some wranglers who work behind the scenes, so he’ll spend most of his time keeping everybody on time backstage.”

      “Well, if you see him, tell him to keep an eye out for Cheyenne Cassidy tonight.”

      A worried expression flashed on Josie’s face. “Why? Is something wrong with her?”

      “No. It’s her opening night, and I covered a small accident she had this afternoon.”

      “Oh, I see,” Josie said as she gave him a quizzical look. “So this is work-related, a deputy sheriff following up on a case.”

      His face burned, and he wondered if it had turned red. “Something like that,” he mumbled as he turned away from the ticket counter and caught sight of Dean and Gwen Harwell, and their daughter, at the concession stand. As he walked toward them, the girl working there handed Maggie a big cone of cotton candy.

      He eased up behind Maggie and leaned over. “Are you going to share that with me?”

      She turned to face him and gave a squeal of pleasure before she threw her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

      He gave her a swift hug and smiled. “Well, I am, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to sit with you and your folks.”

      “Oh, yes.” She glanced up at Dean. “It’s okay if Luke sits with us, isn’t it?”

      Dean laughed and reached out to shake Luke’s hand. “Of course he can.”

      Luke smiled at Maggie and then glanced at Gwen. “Hi, Gwen. It’s good to see you again.”

      A smile pulled at her lips, and she and Dean exchanged a glance before she spoke. “I thought you might be here tonight.”

      His forehead wrinkled. “Oh? What made you think that?”

      “Well,” she said, “Cheyenne Cassidy is making her debut tonight, and I knew the two of you met this afternoon.”

      His face grew warm, and he swallowed. “Yeah, she was involved in a little accident. I took the report.”

      “From what I hear,” Dean said, “there was a little more to it than you taking a report.”

      Now his face felt hot. “Uh, I guess you could say that. She kinda stepped out in front of my car, and I kinda hit her.”

      Dean laughed. “Then why don’t we go get our seats so we can all see Cheyenne make her debut.”

      Luke was thankful the conversation had steered to safer ground, and he nodded and followed the Harwell family into the arena. They found seats very quickly several rows up on the bleachers that ran along side the paneled wall of the arena. They’d barely gotten settled when the lights dimmed, and a man’s voice came over the intercom. As he began to speak, the audience quieted, and all eyes were trained on the far end of the arena, where he stood on a small stage. On either side of the stage were large doors that Luke knew would serve as the entrances and exits for the horses.

      “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Bill Johnson’s Smoky Mountain Wild West Christmas Show in our 38,000-square-foot arena right here in the heart of the Smokies. Tonight we celebrate the holidays with this special show that’s designed to thrill you, no matter how old you are. Get ready for a night of horsemanship, spectacle, special effects, music and danger as you witness our cowboys and cowgirls thrill you with their daring rides at top speeds that will leave you shaking your heads in disbelief.”

      With that the music swelled, the doors on either side of the stage swung open and a line of horses entered the arena in single file. The sequins on the riders’ costumes sparkled from the spotlights, and each rider held a pole that was stuck in a holder near the stirrup. A white flag covered in white sequins fluttered from each pole as the horses made their way into the arena and circled it at a slow gait. Beside him Maggie pulled on his sleeve and pointed toward the riders.

      “There’s Cheyenne!” she cried out as she gestured wildly in her direction.

      Luke nodded. “I see her.”

      At that moment the music softened, and on cue Luke’s friend Brent Hatcher turned his horse toward the exit, and the others followed. He watched Cheyenne ride her horse out of the arena and then turned his attention to the first act.

      Since Luke had seen the show the night before, he settled back in his seat and spent the next thirty minutes more interested in Maggie’s reaction to the various acts taking place on the arena floor. From time to time when Maggie let out whoop of delight, he saw Dean and Gwen exchange smiles. Something in the way they stared at each other made him wistful.

      He’d thought he’d that once with Jasmine, but he’d been wrong. In his mind he knew all women weren’t like her, but his heart cautioned him to be careful. He couldn’t be hurt again if he played it safe, and that was what he intended to do. That meant he wouldn’t be testing the waters with any woman. Not now, and maybe not ever.

      At that moment Maggie grabbed his arm and cried out in a shrill voice, “It’s time for Cheyenne!”

      He jerked his attention back to the announcer, who had stepped to the small stage again. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he declared in a booming voice, “get ready for the thrill of a lifetime as the Smoky Mountain Wild West Show presents the debut of our newest trick rider. From Jackson Hole, Wyoming, riding her horse Patches, put your hands together and give a big Smoky Mountain welcome to three-time women’s international trick-riding award winner Cheyenne Cassidy!”

      The crowd roared its approval as one of the doors at the end of the arena swung open. Luke gasped as Cheyenne’s horse galloped at top speed into the arena with her standing on the saddle. Her costume glittered as if she was wearing diamonds, and next to him he heard Maggie yell.

      “Go! Cheyenne! Go!”

      Luke smiled at the excited look on Maggie’s face and he cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud cheer as Patches raced around the arena.

      Maggie leaned close to him and yelled so he could hear her above the roar of the crowd. “That’s a hippodrome stand. It’s one of my favorite tricks.”

      “I like it, too,” he said as his gaze followed Cheyenne, who now had shifted her position. With one hand on Patches’s mane and the other