Page 16 of Reins

Okay, this whole idea is starting to feel stupid. It’s cold enough to make my cheeks burn, and I can’t see the barn even in the distance.

How far am I?

Farther than I’ve ever been alone. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

I’m free.

If only I could just keep riding and never come back. Where would I go?

I have no money, no skills, and no one who I can trust.

When my belly growls, I realize I don’t have any food either.

“Come on, girl. Time to turn around.” At least her steps make a path that is easier to follow.

Wait. Why do her prints split?

Curiosity has me veering off to follow the unfamiliar trail.

I don’t remember going this—

“Don’t move,” a gruff, deep voice calls out, echoing off the icy tree trunks.

My heart leaps into high speed as I pull Petunia to a stop instinctively.

That’s when I see the long barrel of a rifle pointed at me from the edge of a thick pine.

Fuck.

I muster every piece of false bravado I’ve used on my brothers and stiffen my spine. “You’re tresspassing.” I’m impressed I didn’t even stammer.

The stranger’s scoff sends a misty plume away from the Ponderosa. “You’re not in much of a position to run me off.”

“Why are you here?” I jut out my chin in feigned defiance to hide the quaking of my lips.

I’ve never had a gun pointed at me. It’s causing a whole new level of terror to surge through me.

“That’s my business,” he growls, yet the weapon never wavers. “You need to get on down back to your cushy house, Rosalyn.”

A new wave of ice settles in my belly. “How—” My words finally falter. “—how do you know my name?”

“I know a lot more than that. Now get on.” This time the barrel dips, then arcs.

My breath comes so quickly I feel lightheaded. “Is it my brothers? Is that who you’re watching? What did they do?”

His aim lowers slightly, pointing more to the snow-clad bush beside me. “Did they do something they shouldn’t have?”

I still can’t see the man behind the tree. But the fact he hasn’t shot me yet has to be a good sign, right?

Thoughts spin through my head in a whirlwind, yet it’s like trying to grasp at threads in a tornado. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “They don’t tell me anything.”

He grunts, making another soft cloud of his exhale rise from under the broad brim of his hat. “Go before I make your horse spook.”

The click of the safety going off is almost as much of a shock to me as if he’d pulled the trigger.

My thighs clench, spurning Petunia from a standstill.

When she does, the stranger leans far enough I can see the amber color of his eyes over a black scarf wrapping his face.