We both knew that.
I went out anyway.
"Walk me through it," she said, when I came to stand at Bishop's shoulder.
Her eyes were laughing at me.
"Approach at a controlled gallop," I said. "Right hand on the pommel, left arm down and loose. Eyes through his ears, not at the post."
"Not at the post," she repeated. Serious.
Completely not serious.
"Your peripheral vision does the work."
"My peripheral vision does the work." She nodded slowly, like she was hearing this for the first time, like we hadn't had this exact conversation forty times in the paddock at Holt Creek. "And if something feels wrong?"
"You call it. Everything stops."
"Everything stops." She looked down at me from the saddle. The hat was pulled low. The duster fell perfectly. She looked like the protagonist of every Western I'd watched growing up, except real, except mine. "Anything else?"
I put my hand on her knee.
She looked at my hand.
Looked back at me.
"Your left heel," I said. "Keep it down through the lean."
"My heel was down every time this morning."
"Keep it down anyway."
"Sawyer."
"Daniela."
She didn't correct me on her name anymore.
I liked that. Loved it.
"Are you going to hold my hand through every stunt on this film?" she teased.
"Probably," I said.
"Ellis is going to notice."
"Ellis already knows."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Ellis has known since we started shooting," I said. "She's not subtle about what she pays attention to."
Daniela looked toward the monitors, where Ellis was standing with her arms crossed and her sunglasses on, talking to the DP. As if she felt the look, Ellis glanced up. Looked at us. Looked back at the DP without expression.
"She's not going to say anything," I said. "She hired us both on purpose."
"I know." Daniela looked back down at me. Her hand came down to cover mine on her knee. "I know she did."
