Page 8 of California Dreaming

After the makeup artist did a final touch-up, he felt the familiar surge of excitement as he contemplated the challenge of the scene ahead. The rest of the cast and crew swung into action around him.

Last-minute costume and sound checks over, he placed one boot in the stirrup and mounted, comfortable in the saddle’s smooth, worn leather. The stunt involved riding his horse hard across the desert and jumping a river, pursued by lawmen. Arch bent low to whisper again into the horse’s ear. “This is it, buddy. Let’s show them everything we’ve got.”

He settled himself. Straightened his back and pulled down the wide brim of his hat to shield his eyes. Then he nodded.

When the director called, “Action!” Arch went for it—one take. With only a nudge to the flanks, the horse took off.

Hot wind blew in Arch’s face, and the sheer speed of the animal sent his heart thudding pleasurably in his chest. He felt completely alive on the back of the horse, keeping rhythm with Bracing Bill’s elegant stride. He might be surrounded by people with several camera lenses trained on his every move, but he was able to tune everyone, everything out. Nothing existed except him and the horse riding in unison, the glare of the sun, the glimmer of the river ahead.

Smith was waiting for him on the other side. Arch could just make out his friend’s broad silhouette astride his horse. The leap over the water was the trickiest part of the stunt, but the rest of the scene was simple. Once the river was behind him, the two cowboys would lead the lawmen in different directions and get them hopelessly lost before meeting back at the old farmhouse.

As he reached the river’s edge, he and the horse were one. This was what he was born to do.

He could feel Bracing Bill gathering speed, ready to propel them both across the water. They were going to nail this stunt in a single take, even though Jesse and Smith had thought the horse too nervous.

Inwardly, he smiled. Outwardly, he gritted his teeth and let his eyes close to a squint against the sun. The horse reared up, ready to make the leap. It was poetry in motion.

Then a sudden boom crashed across the ravine.

Arch knew that sound. Prop dynamite. Loud, convincing, and thoroughly unnerving. Particularly for a horse.

Time slowed as Arch felt the horse spook beneath him and then stumble. They were going down. And fast. There was no guarantee Arch wouldn’t end up crushed beneath the beast.

He had to act.

As the horse lost his footing, Arch propelled his body through the air, determined to make it across the water. He could see the other bank—so close—his hat flew clean off his head. Just as he thought he was nimble enough to clear it, something held him back.

His boot. Caught in the stirrup.

Time whirled back to normal speed, and before he knew what was happening, he was on the ground, his leg pinned under the horse. He heard an ominous crack.

Shock coursed through Arch’s body. No pain yet—

With a panicked whinny, Bracing Bill rolled to his feet, away from Arch. At least the horse had emerged from the fiasco unscathed.

Unfortunately, Archer couldn’t say the same.

Closing his eyes, Arch saw stars. The pain struck, lightning hot.

He lay there, stunned, then felt a rough hand on his shoulder. “You okay there, buddy? That was some fall.”

Smith.

Arch tried to speak, but his throat was dry. What had happened?

He lifted his head, winced with pain.

“Easy now,” Smith said gently.

Arch struggled to get up and fell back. He swallowed. “Is the horse okay?”

“The horse is fine,” Smith said. “In a hell of a lot better shape than you.”

Arch turned his head and saw Bracing Bill had trotted back toward his trainer. The horse was clearly okay, if a bit shocked.

Smith picked up Arch’s cowboy hat, flattened by the horse. “Dude, this could have been you. I thought for a minute this buddy movie was going to end up short one buddy.” Though Smith spoke lightly, Arch knew his friend was dead serious.

The director called, “Cut!”

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