Cash shoves the walkie-talkie back into his saddlebag. Then he checks the thick leather strap that goes around the horse’s belly. My stomach flips again. Oh, no. No-no-no. “Tour’s cut short,” he says. “With two of us on one horse, it’s gonna take us a while to get back. Let’s go.” My heart pings around my chest like a panicked pinball. “The horse can carry both of us?” Cash isn’t wearing sunglasses, so I can see the skin crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he squints at me and says, “He don’t have much choice, does he?” “I’ll walk.” “You won’t make it a quarter mile in those boots.” He holds
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