Page 47 of Cherry Tree Ranch

I sign in at the fair table for the competition and give a jovial woman with short grey curls my ten jars of cherries. They require ten samples of each competitor’s product. The woman tells me that my cherries are unique to the competition and gives me a wink as she takes them away. I set up my assigned table in the same way as I do for the farmers’ market and hope for the best.

Tomorrow will be the public tasting. I’m not allowed to be here for that. It’s a blind tasting and because so many local young people enter they want it to be unbiased. Saturday during the rodeo will be the expert panel of judges’ turn to taste. This is when I will present and pitch my product. I have yet to nail down my pitch, though.

I’m practically buzzing after dropping off my cherries and collecting an official competitor’s badge. The rodeo arena and fairgrounds are both part of the same facility, so my walk to the arena takes only a minute.

The bull riders take turns practising. The bulls are all bulging muscles and horns. They spin when they buck, and everyone gets the hell out of the way when the gate opens. The guys who ride bulls are gutsy as hell, but the rodeo clowns – bullfighters, really – are the bravest of anyone. The bullfighter with the purple shirt, shorts and Nike Blazers puts himself in front of the bull as soon as any rider falls, encouraging the bull to come at him instead of at the rider on the ground.

“Look at this,” a girl standing near me says.

“Damn,” says the girl standing next to her. “I want a day in her life.”

Everyone around yells out encouragements for the next rider, but I catch the girl next to me saying, “I don’t know a girl who doesn’t think Cash is fine as hell.”

I do a double take. Cash?

The girls laugh. “I’d just about marry him on the spot if he asked me.”

“Remember at prom when he did the Dirty Dancing move and lifted Kaylee in the air? So overdone, but still … so good.”

I glance at them again. They don’t seem to notice me standing here. They’re both wearing jeans, cowgirl boots and graphic tees tied in a knot to show off their waists.

“Uh yeah, I remember. All the guys were pissed.” She laughs. “The rest of them looked pretty pathetic after that, especially when they kissed like they did.”

I imagine the scene they describe and my heart lurches. Cash and Kaylee are everywhere I turn – Lani’s texts, Buckaroo Billy’s ads, rodeo fliers, and now here in person. Why am I not paying attention? I was so giddy from the thrills of last night that I ignored the important facts – Cash is with Kaylee.

A white bull with red-speckled spots across its hide turns towards the bullfighter and charges. The bullfighter jumps to the side and the bull turns. The girls chatting next to me take off, and I consider doing the same after what I’ve heard. I shouldn’t be getting tied up in these confusing feelings for Cash.

Even though I know it will be rage bait, I open social media and search for his account to check the latest video.

I hold my breath. It’s a day in the life post of Kaylee. It starts with her waking up – with full make-up on. A twangy country song plays in the background as she claps at the screen, and her full wardrobe of Buckaroo Billy’s apparel is magically on. She squeals, loving the fit. After stopping at the coffee shop, she grooms Buttercup and talks to a friend. Finally, she finds Cash in the barn where he asks her to turn round, and he clasps a sparkly horseshoe necklace round her neck. I could vomit.

You OK? Lani texts, right on cue.

I contort my mouth. Eh. Got my competition cherries handed in, but I feel stupid about last night.

Wyatt all the way, girl. Cash isn’t worth the heartache. GOOD LUCK for the competition!

Talk later?

Yep. Love ya!

I turn away from the arena, but next up are the bronc riders. Cash is riding first. He looks around at the stands and then at the rails. His eyes catch mine and he tips his head at me with a nervous look. This will be the first time he’s been back on a bronc since the injury. I give him a thumbs-up and smile encouragingly, but the thought of him lifting Kaylee in epic style and kissing her claws at my mind.

His head is covered with a black helmet that looks like it was borrowed from the hockey team. Attached to his protective vest that all the riders have to wear is a neckroll. Cash gets on a sorrel-coloured bronc, holds tight to the rein and nods quickly before he loses his nerve. But when the horse jumps out from the chute, something isn’t right. He doesn’t set his mark out, which is when his spurs are in front of the horse’s shoulder before the front feet come down.

Cash grabs his saddle with his free hand, which is against the rules, and holds on as the horse lets out its first buck. After the second buck, Cash pulls his feet from the stirrups. I watch in confusion when he swings his leg round and jumps from the bronc, landing on his feet. He takes off his helmet and throws it in the dirt. Dust floats up in a plume when he kicks a foot out in front of him and retrieves his helmet.

I walk over to the chutes, where he’s watching the next rider with his arms crossed. “You OK?” I ask.

“Great,” he says, not looking at me.

“Hey … I think I’m going to head out,” I say, my voice uneven with conflicting emotions. “Here are your keys.”

He doesn’t respond or look at me, so I set them down and walk away. I text Mom and ask her for a ride home. When I glance back, Cash’s bent over with his palms on his thighs, and another rider is patting him on the back.

I make my way to the parking area and wait under the shade of a tree near Cash’s truck. After several minutes Mom still hasn’t written back, and now Cash is coming my way. He opens his truck door, throws in his chaps and flings his cowboy hat by the brim on to the seat. I don’t wear a cowgirl hat, but even I know it’s sacrilege to handle a cowboy hat that way. He practically stomps to the other side of the truck, near where I’m sitting.

“I’m sorry you left the competition set-up for this,” he says, his lips pressed in a line. He slicks his sweaty hair back with both hands, walks away a few steps and then comes back.