Page 124 of Double Bucked

He leaves me staring at those glimmering letters, rubbing the embossed words over and over like a worry stone.

41

EVERETT

The polo game comes to an end.

Our referee approaches us, a stout man sweating through his shirt. He wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs. “Whew! That was the most entertaining match I’ve seen in a while.”

Riding is using muscles I’m unaccustomed to using. I can already tell my thighs will be sore tomorrow. I can feel the horse panting underneath us. Ransom fits peculiarly well in my lap, his body warm and bulky against mine.

“What’d we win?” Ransom asks.

Loren and his team ride up alongside us. Playing unfair was worth it to see his mouth twisted in a sour expression underneath that whiskery mustache. He answers, “You get to go find the ball, idiots.”

At the edge of the field, I see one of Loren’s teammates smack the polo ball hard. It sails into the woods, vanishing behind the trees.

Petty but effective. Ransom’s muscles tense against me.

“Pick your battles,” I murmur to him.

As the rest of the men lead their horses back to the tables, we pivot and ride into the woods. Ransom stalls the horse. I dismount first, and then he follows.

Under the canopy of trees, the light dims. The woods are thick here, and they swallow us.

I look toward the Equestrian Club. The people are small dots from here.

I can’t see them. They can’t see us.

We’re alone out here.

Ransom’s heavy boots crunch over dry leaves and snap twigs. He has no sense of stealth. His head is down, hunting for the ball. Quietly, I follow behind him.

Completely alone.

“Good riding out there,” Ransom says.

“You did all the riding. I did the swinging.”

“Guess we make an alright team, huh?”

I crouch down on a knee. I slip my hand into my boot. My fingers wrap around the hard steel of the small hunting pistol.

“I guess so,” I reply. I take the bullet out of my pocket, thumb it into the barrel, and click it into place. I’ll only need one at this close range.

Ransom gets to his knees and brushes aside a pile of leaves, hunting for the ball.

“Listen,” he says. “There’s something about Loren. I saw something, and—I don’t know. Might be nothing. Might be that I’m seeing things, but…”

Ransom is rambling as he hunts. He’s distracted.

Adrenaline pinches, and my heart quickens in my chest.

Now’s my chance.

I lift my gun.

Goodbye.

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