Page 63 of Trigger Happy

I watch Bobbi and Arch interact the entire time. I can’t see any more bruises on her body, but she’s wearing a long-sleeve jean jacket. I don’t know where those purple marks came from, but if Arch had anything to do with them, he’s going to end up with his head shaved in a hot spring.

I’m surprised by how angry the thought makes me. I normally try to keep my emotions simmered down, only giving myself the space to feel when I’m alone and have time to process, but I don’t want Arch hurting her.

If that’s what’s happening here.

Bobbi’s been nothing but kind and welcoming to me, and she doesn’t deserve to have purple bruises on her wrist—nobody does.

Then again…

I could be misreading the entire situation.

Dragon’s hooves clop rhythmically beneath me, and the sound is almost soothing. Shockingly, I find myself relaxing the longer we ride. I even catch myself smiling as the trail dips into a shaded grove of pines. I don’t even mind that my horse is sweating.

Sweating!

Look at me, riding a horse. I’m just starting to feel comfortable when I kick Dragon’s side. He jerks violently, and his head snaps back as a panicked whinny cuts through the soft breeze.

“Whoa, easy, boy!” I shout.

He bolts with me on his back.

The wind whips my hair into my face, and my hat goes flying. Mountains blur around me, and my legs clamp down uselessly against the saddle as I try not to panic. I tug on the reins like Lawton said, but I can’t get the motion right, and Dragon won’t listen to a word I say.

I pull harder. Still nothing. “Why won’t you listen?”

“Loosen up!”

Lawton’s deep voice pierces through the pounding of hooves and the roar of blood in my ears, but the only thing I can focus on is holding on to this wild horse.

My heart batters against my ribs as Dragon veers sharply to the left. The ground below disappears into a steep drop-off, but this is not how I go.

I’ve faced down everyone from tax evaders to mobsters, so I absolutely refuse to let a horse get the best of me.

Not today, Dragon.

32Lawton

I should be chasing after Sabrina because that’s what a good husband would do, but as her stallion bolts to the distant Tetons with her wobbling on his back, this tightness overtakes my chest and all I can think is—not her.

“Ease up on the reins!” I shout, spurring my horse forward as Bobbi and Arch race behind me.

Sabrina glances over her shoulder with panicked eyes, and I catch what looks like relief in her gaze as she spots me tearing through the wind.

My hat goes flying off as I rip through the tall grass, but I push my horse harder, squeezing my thighs around his muscular torso. “Come on, Mudflapper! Let’s go, boy!”

When I finally manage to ride up beside Sabrina, I can see she’s got stiff legs and locked arms. Freezing up is the worst thing she can do on the back of a wild horse. Dragon’s going to throw her off like that. It takes all I’ve got not to yank her off the damn animal, but that would only spook him.

“Loosen your grip!” I shout as calmly as I can. “Dragon’s feeding off your panic, so you need to relax!”

“What did I tell you about the word ‘relax’?!” Even through the wind-whipping chaos, she has the nerve to shriek, “And are you delusional? I’ll fall and die!”

“All right!” I yell back over the roaring wind. “Do you want to be cremated or buried?”

“WHAT?” she says as Dragon picks up speed, hooves stomping on the grass.

“CREMATED OR BURIED?”

The question cuts through her panic enough to pull out a surprised laugh, which is what I wanted. The laughter loosens her body, and Dragon senses it. His thundering hooves lighten on the grass. Not much, but it’s something.