Cowboy Contest Novels & Stories

Mom had to work two different jobs as I took over running the shop, but I knew things weren’t going well. That’s when I met Prez and the Wolf Riders MC! They were on the run from their own Enforcers and the president at the time, having failed a coup. The president was forcing their patched members and prospects to do the drugs they were supposed to deal, only allowing them their fix once the drop was done. Even going as far as overdosing on a couple of them, and the women inside the club. Men who didn’t get their fix got aggressive, and on more than one occasion, the fight ended with someone dead on the floor.

VOLUME SIX: A COWBOY AND HIS SWEET SPOT Carter's ass bounced on the hard seat of his banged-up pickup truck as he drove across the state line into Wyoming. Man, he was tired, and his butt hurt. Riding fourteen hours on the back of a horse was much more comfortable than six on the worn-out seat in the truck.

"For a few minutes there I thought I was being called into the principal's office." "Not at all." Dean took another swallow of coffee. "But there're a couple of things you need to be aware of. It's about to get a little more exciting around here." "Okay." Jack nodded his head. Dean picked up a flyer from his desk and handed it over. Jack lifted an eyebrow. "Rodeo?" "Uh huh." Dean nodded. "Randy Warren at the Flying W holds one every year. Raises money for the youth ranch on the west side of the county."

Ray had won first place for bull riding and breakaway roping. He had two blue ribbons and nine thousand dollars in prize money. “I had no idea the prize money was so substantial in a rodeo,” Ava said as they walked upstairs at The Coyote Bluff Estate. Ray nodded. “Contestants can win up to ten to twelve thousand, depending on how many people are in the contests and how many there are in.” “Wow,” Ava mumbled. They got outside of their rooms.

So in the evening they had a long feast in the open ground in front of the town. Although the dishes were not as elaborate as those served at the presidential estate, the portions were certainly adequate. There was even a whole roast cow on the middle table! Hundreds of pounds of whole roast cow on the table! If the person next to me had not insisted on dragging me to taste a piece, I would have thought it was a huge wooden carving. Young men and women gathered separately and shuttled among the feasts. More people gathered in another open area. Because there was a simple bull riding contest going on

He outlined, counting off the roadblocks on his fingers. “William and Mary have graciously offered to let me use some of their horses for now, but that only solves part of the puzzle. The contestants competing are required to bring their horses, underscoring my need for something more specialized. To truly stand out and provide an authentic experience, I need some proper broncos for the show.” He frowned.

He even liked it that she lived above the saloon, since it meant a game was handy if he felt like playing. Since the Hat Creek outfit had been gathering cattle and getting ready for their drive, games were handier than they had been for a while. Several cowboys drifted into Lonesome Dove, looking for work; some of them had enough snap left at night to wander in and cut the cards. A tall cowboy named Needle Nelson showed up from north of San Antonio, and a cheerful cowboy from Brownsville named Bert Borum. At first Xavier was cheered by all the new customers, until it occurred to him that they would only be there for a week or

Nick and the sheriff shook their heads with amusement. Goldman handed Lance his credit card. “We want a big ass order of wings with ranch and blue cheese on the side and three beers. Keep the beers comin’. We also want to know more about this wet nightie contest.” Lance laughed. “All right, big guy. The winner gets a $700 prize, runner-up gets $500, and third place gets $200. The contest will start in thirty minutes.” “That sounds great, buddy, thanks,” Goldman said and patted him on the back.

The Denver Coliseum was alive like never before. It was the 2004 Wild West Indoor Football (WWIF) season opener, and the Colorado Cannibals were hosting the Wyoming Cavaliers after winning last year’s OK Corral Championship against the Omaha Cattlemen. Every seat in the Coliseum was filled, fans packed shoulder-to-shoulder, their voices rising in a thunderous, electric roar that rattled the rafters and sent a charge through the city. The Cannibals, defending champions, were back-and Denver was ready to see if their bold experiment could deliver a second crown.

Lianna asked. “Cash. What about yours?” “Casper.” I gave her a crooked grin and watched as Luis walked up with a small bag in his hands. We put it in the horse trailer and listened to the announcements now that all the events were over. They announced Lianna as the third-place winner in barrel racing. Corbin took first in bronc riding and I took first in bull riding. “You’re a bull rider?” Lianna asked with a grimace. “No. I'm pretending to be. I’m a cowboy, ma'am,” I said with a wink.