Page 23 of Knot my First Rodeo

I come outside the next morning because sitting in that room makes me feel like I’m crawling out of my own skin; the air’s too still and the walls are too close. I tell myself I’m just going to see what they’re doing, then go back inside.

That’s the plan, but it doesn’t last.

Their day is already in full swing when I step off the porch. Clint’s at the back of the truck lifting something, broad shoulders shifting under his shirt. Briggs is near the trailer, thicker, more solid, checking latches and chains with that same serious look he always has. Tripp moves between them, faster than the other two, grabbing things, setting things down, his body built for motion instead of standing around.

Metal clanks, boots crunch against gravel, horses shift in the trailer, the low thud of hooves echoing through the space. There’s just no conversation, and it throws me off more than if they were talking nonstop.

I linger near the edge of it, arms crossed, trying to figure out where I fit in. Or if I even do.

Tripp notices me first, of course.

“You gonna stand there all day?” he calls.

I roll my eyes. “I just got here.”

“Then you’re already behind.”

I walk over anyway, because standing there like an idiot isn’t doing me any favors. “What do you want me to do?”

“Grab that bag,” he says, nodding toward something by the truck. “Bring it here.”

Simple. I can do simple.

I grab it; it’s heavier than I expect, and I carry it over, dropping it a little harder than I meant to. Tripp doesn’t say anything about it, just unzips it, checks inside, then nods once like that was enough.

“Good.”

That’s it.

No praise or explanation, just good.

I hover for a second.

“Where are you even going?” I ask, glancing between them. None of them answer right away, like the question doesn’t slow them down.

Briggs snorts. “See? Told you she wasn’t listening.”

“Wasn’t listening when?” I ask, confused as to why they’re loading shit up and I’m clueless.

“We mentioned the other night we were packing the trailer and needed to get on the road today, early.”

“Yeah, I missed that. So where are you going?”

Clint finally answers. “Augusta.”

“That’s helpful,” I mutter. “What’s in Augusta?”

Tripp glances over, grinning already. “American Legion Rodeo.”

I blink. “Like… an actual rodeo?”

“Yeah,” he says.

Briggs snorts under his breath, still not looking at me.

“Fourteen grand purse,” Tripp adds, like that should explain everything.

My brows lift. “Fourteen thousand dollars?”