Not that I can find the voice to shout back to them now.
Wilder flicks his eyes past me, where the guys are prepping Tuscan. “Move, Rose.”
I don’t move. I block him using what little I have compared to him.
He huffs before firmly but carefully shoving me aside and striding forward.
I race up in front of him, pressing my palms to his steel body. “Wait.”
He ignores me and stares ahead. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my horse?” he seethes at the guys.
They all turn in shock. Then, like I led Wilder here all by myself, they each shoot me a hard glare.
I grip his arms to shift his focus back to me. “Hold on, it’s not what it looks like, let me explain—” I don’t know why I’m volunteering. Maybe because I feel like a terrible lookout? It was literally my only job.
Or maybe because I need him to know we were doing this for him—not working against him.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes locking with mine. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” Then he strides past me to the men. “If you boneheads tell me that you’re taking him to the Callahan rodeo, you’re all fired.”
Randy steps in front of the other two, protectively. “Boss, come on. We were going to represent you. That’s why we chose Tuscan. This would be—”
Wilder’s nostrils flare. “I catch you sneaking an animal off my ranch and you start with ‘Boss, come on’?”
Nelson and Barry glance at each other, then Barry speaks up. “We were trying to help—”
Wilder steps toward Randy—somehow knowing he’s the ringleader here. “You were gonna ride him?”
He stares back without a response.
“Course you were. You didn’t just take any horse, you took the one that could win. Tell me, you plan on cutting me in on your winnings?”
“Sure did. But the ranch name, that’s—”
“That’s a load of crock and you know it.”
“Boss—” Nelson starts.
“Step away from my horse,” he barks. “You all want to go to the rodeo?” Wilder turns his hard glare back on me. “Be my guest. But not with anything that belongs to me.”
I keep my eyes locked with his while the men scramble to get the other mares quiet from the commotion. Tuscan stays stationed in the middle, dipping his muzzle into a stack of hay.
I flip back to the sound of crunching gravel as others from nearby cabins appear, alarmed and confused.
Wilder briefly scans over the newcomers but doesn’t call the show to an end.
No. His attention shifts back to me, thick with something I can’t read.
“You were the lookout?” His voice is low and sharp.
Refusing to shrink under his scowl, I tilt my chin. “I think you’re overreacting. We were just trying to help.”
“This isn’t helping, Rose,” he shouts. “This is aiding in a robbery. What if my best horse got hurt tonight? What if he lost? How the fuck would that help anybody?”
I did consider the risks. But I also considered the reward if he won.
It sounds foolish now.
“But I shouldn’t be surprised, now, should I?” he continues. “You go out looking for trouble.”
