Leaning against the steel bars of the arena, Dan watched the group of laughing women prepare to do battle with the squealing pig in the pen behind him.When he’d first learned that Ashby was going to participate, he figured it might be another train wreck. She’d been heavy on his mind in the month since they’d walked or limped the bike into town. Ashby had not been able to hide the pain of her blisters by the end of the disastrous ordeal. The cantankerous woman had refused all his attempts to help, and he’d finally stopped trying. Fortunately, by the time they’d made it into town, almost everyone was off participating in other festivities, sparing them some of the hoopla associated with coming in dead last.Dan had to hand it to her, she’d said she wasn’t riding the bike and she’d stuck to her guns. Blisters and all.It stood to reason that when word spread of her raising money to win herself a spot in the scramble, there had been a stampede of cowboys lining up to help her along.
