#ripwheeler

Sighing, Shiloh swung herself out of the bed. The sun had just begun to peek out over the fields. She had to be in Cheyenne by nightfall. Her muscles protested as she stood, drawing tight before unwinding. A knock came from her door, making her frown.

“Sweetie, are you awake?” came her father’s voice. At 25, Shiloh was John Dutton’s youngest child. The baby; and everyone knew it.

“I’m awake, Papa,” she called, shuffling to her closet.

“Jamie’s waiting downstairs for you. Need to leave soon.”

“Gimme five.” His retreating footsteps were the only response. Grabbing her duffle, Shiloh tossed in her good jeans, caramel cowboy boots with poppies stitched on them, and a black button up. Shiloh was a barrel racer. A pretty good one too. But the Dutton’s didn’t do rodeo, so she knew that she was treading on thin ice with her father. He indulged her, more than the others, but Shiloh knew it would only get her so far. She shimmied her jeans from the day before up her hips and threw a AC-DC shirt over her sport bra clad upper body before stuffing her feet into her shit-kickers and snatching her hat off of the hook.

As promised, Jamie was in the kitchen waiting for his little sister. “Hey, Kiddo. Ryan’s loading up Sweet P, then we need to head out,” he greeted, pecking her forehead. Shiloh nodded, grabbing her travel mug and pouring coffee in, adding a healthy amount of sugar and creamer and reaching for her bag.

“I got it,” came the husky voice of Rip Wheeler. Shiloh smiled up at him as he slung her duffle bag over his shoulder and motioned for her to lead the way outside. Rip had been a part of Shiloh’s life since before she could remember. He’d taken her under his wing, and she hadn’t escaped from under it yet. He was overprotective of her, and pushed her to be better. He was the only one who came to see her ride. He was usually in the stands, supporting her. He wouldn’t be there today, and Shiloh assumed that he was going to give her one of his pep-talks before she left with Jamie. Not having anyone there was going to be hard, but she’d manage. Jamie had business in Cheyenne, which is why he was driving her today, but he wouldn’t be at the rodeo.

“You ready for tonight?” Rip questioned, tossing her bag in the backseat.

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“Sorry I won’t be there. We gotta move the herd up today.”

“It’s ok, Rip. I know you’re busy.” Rip sighed at her, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t go church mouse on me, Shi. Listen, go out there and kick ass. I know you will. You always do.” Shiloh smiled at him.

“I’ll try, but I don’t know. I ain’t got my good luck charm there today,” she teased, giving him a shit eating smile. He scoffed, turning to leave.

“I’ll spank that pretty little ass if you don’t bring home a buckle tonight, Little girl,” he threatened, pointing a finger at her as he walked backwards out of sight.

…

Sweet Potato Pie, Shiloh’s horse, paced back and forth in the wings of the coliseum. Shiloh was up next, and she breathed through the anxiety that always built before her ride. “Angel Eyes”, her theme song, began to blare, and the horn sounded, and Shiloh led Sweet P into a trot, letting everything else fade.

…

The closing ceremony is always bittersweet for Shiloh. She knew her time on the circuit was limited, and she wasn’t ready to give it up just yet. But with new buckle in hand, Shiloh made her way to the parking lot to meet her brother. He was on his phone, as usual, so she loaded up Sweet P and closed up the trailer before getting in the truck.

“Hey, Kiddo. How’d it go?” Jamie asked. Shiloh shrugged, knowing he didn’t really care.

“Won the buckle,” she finally said, reaching in the back for her bag of clothes. “Can you stop at the truck stop so I can change and get a snack?”

“Sure thing!” Jamie was a good guy, and Shiloh loved him, but they didn’t have a lot in common. He was more tolerable than Kayce, but not as kind as Lee. But lord knows, he was a hell of a lot better to deal with than Beth.

Jamie pulled into the truck stop and parked by the front door, and Shiloh jumped out of the truck to make her way inside. After changing into her comfier clothes, she grabbed a coke and a bag of pork skins and made her way to the register. As she was waiting in line behind the long haul trucker, who had loaded up on groceries, a man slid in behind her. He let out a wolf whistle and began to speak.

“I saw you at the rodeo tonight. Ya know, I could give you a better ride than that horse any day.”

Shiloh’s lip curled in disgust. “No thanks. She’s prettier to look at and smells a hell of a lot better.” The man cackled.

“You smell pretty good too, Darlin.’” Reaching into her front pocket, Shiloh drew out her knife, held it just where the man could see, and flicked it open.

“Now, I gotta tell you, I grew up on a ranch with rowdy cowboys, and I am pretty damn handy with this thing,” she flipped the knife in her hand. “And I’d be more than happy to show you my skills.” The man held his hands up in surrender and took a step back. Nodding at him, Shiloh flicked the knife back closed and slid it back into her pocket. She wasn’t naïve, she didn’t doubt that the man would try again as soon as they were out of the store, so she tied the grocery bag that the cashier put her snacks in a knot and made her way outside, staying under all the streetlights on the way out. Her shoulders were tensed, and when she heard boots running behind her, as she was about 10 feet from the truck, she threw her bag down, squatted, and squared her legs. As he rushed her, she threw her shoulder up into his gut, catching him off guard. She lifted her body, throwing her entire weight into the swing, and had him on his back, a boot in his throat, before Jamie got out of the truck. She reached in her pocket and once again drew out her knife. Popping a squat, boot still firmly on the man’s throat, Shiloh held the knife to his dick. “Now, I believe that I promised to show you my skills if you didn’t leave me the hell alone. And I see that you are eager to see them. Let me make something very plain to you. I’ve helped bring plenty of cattle into this world, so I figure taking one pig off of it won’t seem too bad to the big man upstairs, all things considered.” Shiloh heard the hiss right before she felt the warmth of the man’s piss run under her boot. She smirked at him. “But, I am awfully tired. Been a long day, ya see. So, I’ll be kind. But you remember this next time you decide to try and put your hands on a lady. Because I have my ways. And you never know when the rodeo might be headed through. I’m guessing that shitty Tundra over there is yours. Am I right?” The man nodded frantically. “Well, I have your tag number. Funny how something so little could tell me everything I need to know about a man, like where he lives. Don’t fuck around, and you won’t find out. Ya got me, Fucker?”

“Ye-yes ma’am. I’m…I’m sorry!”

“Damn right you are. Now, get the hell out of my sight.” She lifted her foot up, only to kick him across the ass when he made it to his feet. She turned to find Jamie standing, mouth agape. “Jamie, get in the fucking truck.” She scooped up her bag and hauled herself into the passenger seat.

…

The sun was just rising over the mountains when Jamie pulled the truck up near the horse stalls. A grinning Ryan was waiting for them. Shiloh knew that Ryan liked her. And for the most part, that was ok, but it pissed Rip off to no end. Speaking of Rip, the man himself, stood under the yellow glow of the porch light, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face.

Shiloh slid from the truck and patted Ryan on the shoulder as he walked by on his way to let Sweet P out. Ryan was good with the horse, which was saying something, since she seemingly hated everyone but Shiloh. “Thanks, Ry,” she spoke, making her way toward Rip.

“Sure thing. Heard ya kicked ass in Cheyenne. Good ride, Shi!” Shiloh offered him a smile and a nod.

When she was within throwing distance, she underhanded threw Rip the new buckle. He caught it by just a hair.

“And here I was hoping I was gonna get to whoop that little ass of yours,” he joked.

“Rip Wheeler, you and I both know that no one has ever mistaken my ass for being small!” At just over 5 feet, Shiloh was petite and curvaceous. She had wide hips, thick thighs, and a large chest. Her body was hardened and molded by 25 years of ranch life, and she did her best to stay active. Rip let out a hoot, walking over to gently hand over her buckle.

“Good job, Shi. Had a friend in the stands. They sent me the footage. Impressive as always.” Shiloh beamed at him.

“I almost bit that last barrel, but I made the correction just on time.” Rip rolled his eyes.

“Take the compliment, Woman.” Shiloh hip checked him and made her way inside. Her tub and her bed were calling her name.

“Here there, Sweet Pea. How’d ya do?” John greeted from the kitchen table.

“Hi, Papa. I did good. Won the buckle.” John nodded at her and smiled.

On her way to her room, she passed Lee coming out of his.

“Hey, Little One. How’d it go?”

“Pretty good.” Lee was supportive, but John kept him running all the time, so he never got to make it to the rodeos.

…

Shiloh was woken up 4 hours later by her father knocking on her door. “Shi, get up and come out to the living room!” he called. Shiloh grunted. She had planned to sleep until nearly late afternoon, when she’d wash Sweet P and feed her. But when John spoke, you listened. So, she stood up and slid on a pair of jean shorts and a white t shirt.

When Shiloh made it to the living room, John was seated in a great chair, and a man in a suit, shiny boots, and a bolo tie, with a cowboy hat rested on his knee, was sitting on the couch.

“There she is! Shiloh, this is Paul Singleton, president of the Montana Rodeo Circuit. Paul, here, tells me that you have turned down going to the PRCA circuit finals four…no, five years in a row.” Shiloh felt the blood drain from her face. She knew she was in deep shit. John was going to make her quit for sure now, because PRCA meant people would be talking about her. And if someone talked about 1 Dutton, they talked about them all.

“I…”

“Shiloh, may I call you Shiloh?” Paul interrupted. Shiloh nodded dumbly. “Shiloh, you are probably the best racer I’ve seen in my 15 years as president. You have a natural intuition about you. And sponsors knock down our doors for days after you ride. I’ve come to see if I can persuade you to accept some of the offers and join the circuit. I think you could take the title.”

“I…Umm…Mr. Singleton, that’s very kind of you, but I…umm…” she swallowed down the lump in her throat. She knew she had to do this now. She had to leave the rodeo for good. “I…”

“Well, I think Shiloh was just a little nervous of the big leagues, but hearing you say she has what it takes has definitely helped with that, hasn’t it, Shiloh.” John spoke, eyes boring into her. “But you see, Shiloh here won’t ride under any name but Dutton. So, let’s talk numbers,” he finished. Shiloh snapped her head in his direction.

“Mr. Dutton, that’s generous, but it takes a lot of funds to pave her way. I’m sure we could find a sponsor…”

“Paul, I can handle whatever it is. You and I will be in touch. Consider Shiloh on board.”

“Well…Welcome to the PRCA, Shiloh.”

…

John showed Paul out, while Shiloh paced the living room. Her father had just signed her onto a PRCA circuit, and she was having trouble processing. She heard his boots come into the room, and she hesitantly turned to face him. “Papa, I…” John held up his hand, silencing her.

“Shiloh, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, it’s just…I know that Dutton’s don’t do rodeo, and I knew that I needed to retire soon so I could focus on the ranch, and…” She was babbling. She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop.

“Well, Dutton’s might not do rodeo, but you do, and you are a Dutton, so I reckon that means we do rodeo. I know I haven’t shown you as much support as you deserved, and I apologize for that. I get tunnel vision sometimes, but I want you to be happy, Shi. And if this makes you happy, then that’s what we’ll do. And dammit, you’ll make us proud wearing that Dutton patch at your races. Paul is emailing me a list of things that you will need to be circuit qualified, so we will look at it together and go from there. C’mere, Sweet Girl.” He held out his arms, and Shiloh dove into them. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed the top of her head. “But if you ever turn down another offer like this, I’ll tan your hide.”