Page 3 of The Brave and the Reckless

“Five-six.”

“Wait here.”

Not that I had much of a choice… Renee dashed out the door, and I was left alone on the pedestal, staring at myreflection, surrounded by historical garments. Not exactly how I’d pictured my summer playing out. I’d envisioned more beaches and cocktails while I figured out my crap. Alas, my parents had decided to freeze my credit cards, and hanging out at a theme park still beat my father’s idea of a summer well-spent interning at his office. I didn’t even know exactly what his firm did. Numbers on computers. I’d take breeches and cowboys over that any day.

“Try this.” Renee came back with a heap of fabrics on her shoulder and held out a harness for me, black straps and sturdy buckles.

“I need a few more drinks before I get that freaky.”

Her lips twitched up, but she schooled her features quickly to reply in a neutral tone: “It goes under the costume.”

Well, I preferred a harness to a corset, so I stepped into the leg loops and secured the clips around my waist. “What kind of ice cream parlor are we talking? Will I be dangling from the ceiling?” If so, that would be a problem. I wasn’t dangling material.

Renee opened a blue dress for me. Hadn’t she just said I was going to wear green? “Would you consider yourself pretty?”

“If we’re being technical, I think I’m more hot than pretty,” I said while lacing up the dress. The top half was thickly lined with some sort of sturdy padding. “You know, more trophy wife than girl next door. It’s the big eyes and big… other things that are probably not appropriate to mention in front of my new employer. But pretty works if you just think not-ugly.”

“You talk,” Renee fumbled around my waist and pulledthe metal harness links through two little gaps on either side of the dress, “a lot.”

“Funnily enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that, but hey, that just means I’ll make great small talk with all the customers.”

“Change of plans. You’re not selling ice cream. You’re my new Annie.”

“Hard-knock life?”

“The Pretty Annie Lou. She’s the mayor’s daughter, gets kidnapped by Ace Ryder, the lawless cowboy, during the big showdown, before she gets rescued by Kit Holliday, the sheriff.”

Those sure were a lot of words that had just left her lips. They just didn’t make sense to me. Renee must have tracked my blank stare, because she heaved a big sigh.

“We have a bunch of well-known characters that inhabit Bravetown. They have lives and stories. We sell a ton of kids’ books about them, but you can get the gist from the website. Bravetown only works because it feels real. It’s not just the movie set of a Western. It’s an actual Old West town with backstory and townspeople who are beloved by our regular visitors. During our summer season, these characters put on a show every day. Twice on weekends. No show on Wednesdays.”

“Like, you want me to be in a play?” Maybe I should have paid a little more attention to Sinan’s stories about the park. He worked as a Deaf Interpreter on the accessibility team here, but he usually just gushed about how adorable the kids were that he got to work with. I was pretty sure his fiancée was the only reason I wasn’t an aunt to at least three babies yet.

“Trust me, you don’t need any acting chops. Annie Lou has all of two lines. I just need you to fit in the costume, because finding someone else and having a reinforced costume sewn for them takes time that I frankly don’t have.” Her words got choppier and choppier until she pressed the last ones through gritted teeth.

Iwasgetting the blowback from the blonde girl that had fled Renee’s office earlier. She’d said something about Annie. And Renee had been looking through headshots when I’d walked in.

Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Starring in some Western live action show did not sound like the relaxed summer I had planned.

“I don’t mind switching things up, but…”

“Stand up straight.”

Her tone left little room for protest, so I did as I was told.

“The hem is two inches too long, but that’s a quick fix,” she muttered and scribbled on to her notepad. “Shoe size?”

“Eight?” I wasn’t sure why it came out as a question.

“Easy enough.” She beelined for a shelf in the corner and came back with three shoe boxes. “Try these ones first.”

It was a pair of plain brown boots. Not the kind of cowboy boots you’d wear at a Taylor Swift concert, but definitely fit for the gravelly roads outside. I slipped my feet in, and they welcomed my ankles home like a comforting leather hug. Snug enough to offer some stability, loose enough not to leave any blisters or bruises.

“These are great. But I don’t think I’m real damsel-in-distress material.”

“You run away from the bad guy, and he whisks you onto his horse. Which is where the harness comes in. It’s not that hard.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t do horses.” I definitely shouldn’t do horses. I’d been excused from PE my whole life. I didn’t have a gym membership; I had a physical therapist. Heck, my parents hadn’t even let me ride a bike. “Bad idea.”

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