Page 54 of Wild Horses

“I’m flying to North Texas in the morning.” He pats War on the back. “You’re in good hands, Mimi.”

“The best,” I agree. “But you don’t have to go. I’ve got a break before I have to be in Lincoln.”

“I do have to get back. I’ve been gone for a longer stretch than usual, and the business and books are a mess.”

War clears his throat. “About that… Would you want to spend your break at home?”

“Why would you want to go to Pilot Point? Isn’t that a little close to Dallas for you?”

Dad smiles and shakes War’s hand. “You two talk. See you soon, partner.”

“Partner?” If I thought the biggest shock of the night was War’s arrival in Wyoming, I’m sorely mistaken.

“Turns out Tuesday and I have some money to invest, and I’ve heard good things about the horses from Prairie Sky Equine and the owner.” He gives me a salacious wink. “And the owner’s daughter.”

“You’re investing in Dad’s horses? Why?”

“It’s a family business, isn’t it?”

I nod.

“Well, I’m investing in my family.”

Moving without thinking, I jump into War’s arms. “I love you.”

His eyes widen before fluttering shut, and his fingers tighten their grip. “I love you, too, Laramie.”

“We’ve got a lot to?—”

“We still have a lot to?—”

We smile at each other. We have so much to learn, but we also have the rest of our lives to do it. I plop my hat onto his head and capture his mouth with mine because, really, what more is there to say?

epilogue

Las Vegas, Nevada

December

Eight months of traveling across the country. Thousands of miles. Dozens of rodeos. An infinite number of questionable bathrooms. All of it led us here.

Under the brightest lights in the world, I’m cheering on my Trouble as she makes her claim for the National Finals Rodeo crown. It’s a sold-out crowd, and the energy is palpable. I down the ice-cold beer, the aluminum bottle crumpling in my grip. She’s eighth tonight, and we’re only on rider number four. I’m an old hat at rodeos and the anticipation of watching the love of my life ride now, but everything about tonight is heightened. All my years in the boardroom, dealing with million-dollar contracts and managing my father, have nothing on being in the stands waiting to see Laramie achieve her dream. It’s a wholly different pressure. My leg bounces until Kit passes me another beer.

“Sip this one, Son.”

“Yeah,” Tuesday says. “You’re making us nervous.”

Kit, Bond, Tuesday, and the rest of the Trail Creek crew showed up a few days ago, sportingLaramie Larson Fan Club: Trail Creek Branchshirts. Each evening since, they’ve joined Kit and me in cheering for Laramie, always bringing matching tops for us all. Tonight, it’s a hot pink sweatshirt my sister made that saysLuckyLaramie Larson: I’m not lucky; I’m talented.

Tuesday grins and brushes off her shoulders. “This one’s my favorite.”

“I can’t wait for her to see it.” I already know how my girl will react. She’ll fight back tears and make some smart-ass comment about how amazing she is, and then she’ll take the shirt Tuesday gives her and carefully add it to the others. She’s saving them all to get a quilt made.

The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, calling out the next rider’s name and stats.

From next to me, Kit grunts. “She’s good, but not as good as Mimi.”

I hum my agreement. Truthfully, though, it doesn’t matter if she comes in fifteenth or first; I’m so fucking proud of her. The format for the NFR differs from a lot of the smaller rodeos, so it’s been a long ten days. Laramie’s had great nights and ones where she and X didn’t get the time they wanted, but overall, she’s in excellent position for a top-five finish.

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