“How’d you get this rope burn?”
His jaw flexed. “I was fourteen, bareback riding.”
Her eyebrow rose. “I read you were a bull rider.”
He chuckled. “You did your research on Salt & Steel.”
She lowered her head before raising it. “Yes. I always know the background of anyone I work with, or I try.”
“My dad wanted me in every event possible when I was younger. Bareback’s where I learned how fast something can go wrong.” He remembered the pain from his rope burn, making him rub it.
“What happened?” Letty asked.
“A horse named Red Comet, a high-headed bay, kicked me like he had something to prove.”
She nodded.
“I had a decent seat, made it past six seconds and felt good.” He shrugged. “Too good, if I’m being honest.”
“Okay.”
“The whistle blew, and I leaned forward to clear my hand out of the rigging, and he crow-hopped instead of breaking.” He sighed. “The rein jerked, and my glove caught for half a breath. The latigo slid.”
“Latigo?” Letty frowned.
“The leather strap that keeps the rigging tight. It ran across my forearm when he twisted.”
“Oh, a friction burn.”
“More like a friction flay.” His voice stayed even. “Tore skin clean. I hit the dirt before I felt it.”
She studied the scar again. “That’s a long mark.”
He scoffed. “He stepped over me on the way out. I was lucky it was just rope.”
“Did you sit out the next event?”
He gave her a look that answered before he spoke. “No.”
Her head shook. “Of course you didn’t.”
“Dad said if it wasn’t broken, it didn’t count.” His jaw shifted. “Wrapped it and rode the next afternoon.”
“And?” Letty asked.
“I lasted four seconds.” He swallowed. “Couldn’t hold the grip.”
“Why keep going?”
He looked out over the water. “Because if I stopped, he’d say I was soft.”
She rubbed the scar. “That kid was brave.”
His hand came up and touched hers. “That kid learned something that day.”
“Oh?”
“Pain passes.” His thumb brushed her knuckles. “Pride stays.”
