Page 1 of Her Royal Cowboy Billionaire

CHAPTER1

June 1st – Bozeman, Montana – The Max Worthington Coliseum

The Bozeman Horse Show was in full swing. The sunshine made it a scorcher outside so many of the people crowding the midway were just glad to have the air conditioning. Every type of riding and every show had full seats. Riders rode in steeple chase, dressage, and also events like western cutting and even a regular horse show. The coliseum had three arenas, so multiple things were happening at the same time.

Michele Williams stood by the aluminum fence rail and watched as her six-year-old daughter, Erin, demonstrated riding on an English saddle. Most of the people here were used to Western saddles, so the much smaller and lighter English one attracted a lot of attention.

Cowboys preferred the Western saddle because it’s larger and heavier, making it more comfortable for riding long hours herding cattle. And it had things like the horn, which held the cowboy’s ropes and ties for a bedroll and saddlebags. Michele’s cowboys didn’t need a bedroll, instead keeping their slicker tied there.

English riding was more difficult to learn because it required the rider to keep both hands on the reins at all times in order to guide the horse directly through the mouth. Her riding students had to learn to coordinate between balance, legs and reins at the same time, but she knew once she taught someone to ride English style, they could easily transfer those skills to ride western, which made her teaching job easier.

Michele’s baby girl was riding fantastic and her horse, Royal Blue Danger, a beautiful golden palomino with a white mane, performed perfectly. She and Erin both wore bright red coats with black pants for the English riding, which showed off their dark, almost black hair, dark blue eyes and porcelain complexions.

The crowd cheered and clapped.

Suddenly, Royal reared, nearly unseating Erin. He took off running with Erin draped over his neck, hanging on for dear life.

Michele was through the rail fence and into the arena, running as fast as she could toward Erin.

Suddenly, a tall man in a black Stetson, jeans and a dark blue western shirt vaulted the fence rails and was in the arena, in front of the charging animal, waving his arms. The horse slowed, and the man snatched Erin off the horse’s back.

Michele saw a couple of boys at the arena fence with pea shooters. They were laughing, but could have gotten Erin killed. She would remember what they looked like and report them to the show’s committee.

Michele ran to her daughter. She picked her up and hugged her tight. “You were wonderful, baby girl.”

Erin’s blue eyes were wide and full of tears, but she still didn’t let them fall. Instead, she just hugged her mother.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Williams.”

The silky baritone voice rolled over her like a river of warm chocolate. Michele turned and looked up into the most beautiful emerald eyes. They were a clear green, not a trace of yellow to muddy the color.

He had removed his Stetson, showing off dark brown hair, just a little long and hitting his collar.

She could tell he was muscular from the fit of his shirt and jeans. Michele squeezed Erin to her, afraid to let her go. “It’s Miss Williams. I’m divorced.” She frowned. “Though I don’t know why I told you that. In any case thank you so much. I…I really don’t know how to thank you for saving my daughter’s life.”

He waved the thanks away with his hands. “No thanks are necessary. I just wanted to compliment the little miss on her riding, if I may?”

“Of course.” Michele kept her arms around Erin. “Mister…”

“Fedorov. Alexander Fedorov, but please call me Alex.”

Michele loved his accent but didn’t know if it was French or Dutch or Czech or some other European country. It wasn’t German; she knew that much. “I think we’ll stick with Mr. Fedorov…for now.”

“As you wish.” He turned his gaze to Erin. “Miss Williams, you were a pleasure to watch today. You are a very accomplished rider, especially when the horse behaved so poorly.”

Michele’s jaw clenched. “Royal behaved poorly because a couple of teenage boys thought it would be funny to shoot him with a peashooter, probably filled with a steel ball.”

Erin turned and hugged her mother’s neck. “My mommy taught me. She’s the best teacher.”

“She is? That is wonderful.” He trained his gaze on Michele, his lips turned barely up at the corners.

Michele sniffled, her fear slowly subsiding. “She’s my best advertising.”

“It would appear so. Nowhere in the event brochure does it say anything about you teaching how to stay on a runaway horse. If you will tell me what these boys looked like, I will see they are found and punished.” He pursed his lips and made a pulling motion on his chin as though he had a beard. “We cannot have that kind of behavior here.”

“I was about to go report them to the horse show’s committee chair.”

“I know the man personally and I would love to see the boys made to account for their actions.” He smiled at Erin. “You are an amazing rider, Miss Erin. And it is obvious that your mother is an outstanding teacher.” He returned his gaze to Michele. “The brochure did say you are a champion barrel racer. English riding, such as Erin was doing, does not seem to be compatible with such an endeavor.”