Fear knifed through me, sharp and cold, but instinct took over. I shoved the panic down deep. Bandit sensed the shift in me immediately, his muscles bunching as I wheeled him around in a tight, aggressive circle.
"Easy, boy—go!"
I dug my heels in, and he exploded forward. We closed the gap in seconds, the wind roaring in my ears, the meadow blurring into streaks of green and gold. I kept my eyes locked on Beau—hunched low over Daisy’s neck, face pale as a sheet, yelling something incoherent that sounded a lot like, "I'm too pretty to die!"
He was slipping. Gravity was winning.
"Beau!" I screamed over the thunder of hooves. "Let go of the horn—grab the reins! Pull back!"
"I can't—ahh!" He was listing dangerously to the left, one foot kicking uselessly at the air.
We were close now. Close enough that I could see the whites of Daisy’s eyes. Close enough that Bandit bumped her shoulder, a physical check to herd her away from the rocks.
I leaned out of my saddle, trusting Bandit with my life, and snagged Daisy’s loose rein with my free hand. My shoulder wrenched with the force of it, but I held on, yanking her head toward me while pulling Bandit into a wide, slowing arc.
"Whoa!" I commanded, putting every ounce of authority I had into the word.
The force nearly unseated me, my muscles screaming, but Bandit held steady, acting as a brake. Daisy faltered, her gallop breaking into a choppy trot, then a walk, her sides heaving. I kept the reins taut, murmuring nonsense to calm her—"Shhh, girl, easy, you're okay"—until she stopped completely, Bandit flanking her like a bodyguard.
The second she halted, Beau gave up the ghost. He tumbled off the side, landing in a heap on the grass with a heavy thud and a groan that vibrated through the ground.
"Oh god..." he wheezed, staring up at the sky. "I’m dead. I am currently deceased. Tell Z I love him. Tell my father he was right."
I dismounted in a fluid slide, my knees shaking from the adrenaline crash, and dropped to his side. "Beau? You okay? Talk to me."
He sat up slowly, grass in his hair, shirt twisted, looking like a rumpled scarecrow that had been through a tornado. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, breath coming in ragged gasps.
"That... that was..." He pointed a shaking finger at the brush where the rabbit had vanished. "A rabbit? A fucking rabbit almost killed me? It was the size of a toddler!"
Relief crashed over me like a tidal wave, so intense it made my head spin. I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing. Hard. The kind of laugh that bent me at the waist, tears pricking my eyes.
"You should've seen your face!" I gasped, wiping at my eyes. "'I'm gonna die!' Like Daisy was a bucking bronco at the NFR!"
"It isnotfunny!" he protested, but his voice cracked, and then a smile tugged at his lips. A second later, he was laughing too—shaky at first, then full-bellied, clutching his side. "I thought we were done! She just... exploded! And you—holy shit, Winnie." He looked at me, eyes wide with awe. "You came out of nowhere like some kind of cowgirl superhero."
I wiped my eyes, still chuckling as I checked him over—no broken bones, just bruises and severe ego damage. "Had to. Can't have you dying on my watch. Pops would never let me live it down. Think of the paperwork."
Speaking of—hoofbeats thundered from the trail. Pops came galloping up on Thunder faster than I’d seen him move in years. His face was tight with worry, pale beneath his tan, but as he reined in and saw us both upright and cackling in the grass, the tension drained out of him.
"What in the hell happened?" he demanded, dismounting with a wince he didn't bother hiding this time.
"Jackrabbit spook," I said, standing and brushing dirt off my jeans. "Daisy bolted. Beau here forgot how to pilot."
Pops looked from Beau, still sprawled in the grass, to me. His gaze lingered, proud and appraising. "Damn fine riding, Winnie. Saw you from the hill—snagged that rein like a pro. Bandit too. You two saved the day."
Warmth bloomed in my chest, chasing away the last of the fear. "Just doing what needed doing, Pops."
He clapped my shoulder, a heavy, grounding weight, then offered Beau a hand up. "You alright, son? First spook's a doozy. Changes your perspective on gravity."
Beau took the hand, hauling himself to his feet with a groan. He dusted off his jeans, wincing. "Alive. Terrified. But yeah, alright. Thanks to Wonder Woman here."
We all stood there for a beat, the horses grazing contentedly now as if they hadn't just attempted murder, the meadow settling back into peace. Then Pops started chuckling—a deep, rolling sound that set us off again.
Beau doubled over, wheezing. "I looked like an idiot, didn't I? Flailing around like a drunk cowboy."
"The drunkest," I agreed, snorting. "But you didn't bail until she stopped. That counts for something."
"Next time," he gasped, "I’m taking the pony ride. The one on the carousel."
