09/14/2026
Sometimes you come home with the award you were hoping for, and sometimes you come home with the *Hard Luck Award.*
Colorado Top Hand Cowgirl was a little bit of the latter for Bet He's Rebellious and me this year.
I walked out of the house without my hat one morning and had to borrow one from a mentor, which probably should have been my first indication of how things were going to go, and then proceeded to give a cow flight lessons during the ranch cutting. Later during the one woman sort we had what felt like the start of one of our best runs of the weekend. We sorted our first cow in *16 seconds,* and I had the option to sit there, hold that cow and take the time, or go back into the herd and see if we could get two more.
I went back.
In hindsight, I wish I'd stayed safe and taken the time, because our steer eventually made it back through to the herd and turned a really promising run into a no time. But I also know myself well enough to know why I made the choice I did. This year has been so much about learning to expect more from my horses and, probably just as importantly, learning when they're ready for me to ask for it. Sometimes that means you find out exactly how much is there, and sometimes you find out where the edge still is.
We also managed a *23-second barrel pattern with no penalties and, perhaps more importantly, no bruised shins,* so I'm counting that one as a win.
And underneath all the hard luck, I came away really proud of Bet He's Rebellious.
This horse is becoming more capable and more versatile every time I take him somewhere. We're asking him to ranch ride, trail, rein, cut cattle, work cattle and then turn around and do the kind of things a top hand competition asks of one, and I think sometimes I get so focused on everything I still want to improve that I forget how much horse he has already become. There were plenty of things this weekend I would do differently if I could run them again, but there were also moments where I could feel how far we've come, and that's worth something too.
But the part of this weekend that will probably stick with me the longest really doesn't have much to do with my horse.
I've been fortunate enough to watch Mikah Wysocki and Stephanie Ewoldt-Bacca build Colorado Top Hand Cowgirl over the last few years into something incredibly special. I respect both of these women immensely, and every year this event gives me the opportunity not only to compete, but to meet more women and girls who remind me just how many incredible cowgirls there are in this industry. It is competitive without losing its sense of community, challenging without becoming intimidating, and genuinely welcoming to the women and girls who show up willing to try.
So when Mikah started describing the Hard Luck Award and said something along the lines of, "this goes to someone who we know is very good, but who just had a run of tough luck, and we want her to know that she is seen," I don't know that I was prepared for how much that would mean to me.
Because being seen is a funny thing.
We spend so much of our time in this industry looking at what went wrong, the cow we should have held, the decision we wish we could make again, the half point we left somewhere in a maneuver, the things we're going home to fix on Monday, that sometimes it takes somebody else reminding you that they can see the work underneath all of it.
And I am incredibly grateful to be surrounded by women who do exactly that.
Women who compete hard and still build each other up, who recognize good horsemanship even when the score sheet may not, who make room for the next generation of girls coming behind us, and who have created an environment where you can have a weekend full of hard luck and somehow still drive home feeling encouraged, albeit tired.
I don't know that I can adequately explain what Mikah, Stephanie and all of the women behind Colorado Top Hand Cowgirl are building, but I know our industry is better because they're building it.
So I'll take my Hard Luck Award, laugh about the forgotten hat that will now forever live in the trailer(sorry Travis Hamblen,) think about that 16-second cow for probably longer than I should, and go home grateful for another opportunity to expect a little more from my horse and a little more from myself.