Page 217 of Ride the Sky

“You gotta live for yourself, Wy. You came out here to help me, and you did that.” Charlie squeezes my shoulder, and my throat locks up. “Runaway Ranch will be here when you come home.”

Fuck. I’m gonna cry.

Davis steps up, pulling me into a crushing bear hug.

“You’ve gone soft, man,” I tell him even as a flood of warmth hits the backs of my eyes.

“Shut up,” he rasps. We’re rocked forward as Ford and Charlie join in on the hug.

We break apart, clearing throats and acting too interested in the posters on the wall.

My gaze drifts to the windows. Fallon’s busted-up Chevy squealing into the driveway of the lodge. In a few minutes, she’ll find me. But until then, I want a few more seconds with my brothers.

“C’mon, advice,” I croak, after a short silence falls. “Give it to me. I know you want to.”

“Just because you got her doesn’t mean you stop trying,” Davis says, and Ford and Charlie nod in agreement.

Ford grins. “You always have to be a little afraid of your woman.” He lifts a finger. “And never get too drunk at an open bar you’re not paying for.”

I snort.

“That,” Charlie says and points at the pasture, at Fallon and Ruby who walk arm-in-arm, “is what bein’ rich looks like, brother.”

I watch our wives. “Without a doubt, we’re fucked.”

“No shit,” Charlie murmurs, lifting a beer to his bearded lips. “Rest of our damn lives.”

I grin.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Everything I love on Runaway Ranch.

A YEAR LATER

My hip aches. The night air is thick and hot. The universe, vast and starlit, stretches above us like the most beautiful, mind-boggling wonder there is.

Wyatt and I lie flat on our backs on the rooftop deck of our camper, taking in the skies. I see the bob of an ember as Wyatt takes a drag on the joint.

“Where are we tomorrow?” I ask.

My husband reaches down, blindly links my fingers through his. “Gotta be in Lubbock tomorrow.”

For the last year, we’ve been consistently on the road traveling from rodeo to rodeo. Wyatt riding broncs, me barrel racing. From events that last a few days to month-long marathons, we’ve been seeing the world one city at a time.

Vagabonds in this strange trip on Earth, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Wyatt and I. Ride or die until the end.

“There,” Wyatt says. “See it?”

Squinting, I follow his finger, the streak of light arcing across the night sky.

“Beautiful,” I murmur.

Chuffs come from our horses who graze in the small patch of grass. We travel with Lawless, Lovely, and Wyatt’s blue roan, Pepita.

Somehow, we’ve made this crazy life on the road work. I drive my beat-up Chevy and haul the trailer, Wyatt’s truck pulls our camper.

Ping.

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