I was doing great. Until I forgot to latch Pepper’s stall.
I turned around to grab a water bucket, and Pepper—a mare who clearly sensed weakness—sauntered out of her stall like she owned the place.
"Hey!" I dropped the bucket. "No! Go back!"
Pepper ignored me, trotting toward the open barn door and freedom.
"Winnie!" I yelled, jogging after the horse. "We have a containment breach!"
Winnie looked up from the feed room, saw me chasing a horse in slow motion, and doubled over laughing. "You’re supposed tostopher, not escort her out!"
"I am trying to reason with her!"
"She’s a horse! She doesn't speak English!"
I finally managed to cut Pepper off near the tack room, waving my arms like a frantic air traffic controller. She huffed, looked at me with deep disdain, and allowed me to guide her back into the stall.
"My dignity is bruised," I announced, latching the door with aggressive thoroughness. "But the asset is secured."
Winnie wiped tears from her eyes. "Best thing I’ve seen all week. Truly."
"Glad I can provide entertainment."
We moved on to feeding. I was hauling a fifty-pound bag of grain when I saw Winnie checking her phone, a grin spreading across her face.
"What?" I asked, dropping the bag.
"Cassie sent me a video from last night. Someone recorded your karaoke." She turned the screen toward me.
There I was, pixelated and blurry on a tiny screen, holding a beer in one hand and a mic in the other, belting out "Wagon Wheel" with my eyes closed, surrounded by cowboys.
"Oh god," I groaned. "Delete that. Burn the servers."
"Absolutely not. This is gold." She was grinning, eyes bright. "You actually look good though. Very... authentic."
"Authentic?"
"Yeah. Like you belong here. Instead of just visiting."
That hit me in the chest, warmer than the whiskey had last night.
"Send it to me," I said on impulse.
She looked suspicious. "Why?"
"Just send it."
She did. I opened Instagram for the first time in a week. I stared at the curated feed of my old life—suits, cocktails, skylines. Then I uploaded the grainy video of me in a flannel shirt, singing country music in a dive bar.
Caption:Learning new skills. Don't tell Dallas.??
"Did you just post that?" Winnie asked, peering over my shoulder.
"Yeah."
"You have a million followers. You just showed them you’re in Oklahoma singing Old Crow Medicine Show."
"Let 'em look. Maybe it’ll bring some business to the Rusty Spur." I pocketed my phone. "Besides, Old Beau would have filtered it. New Beau doesn't care."
