That hit harder than it should have.
I grabbed his jacket and yanked him around, forcing him to face the trees instead of the bluff. “Look,” I bit out.
The sign stood there plain as day. Some of it was buried under snow, sure, the bottom edge half lost to drift and melt, but the big red letters were front and center.
DANGER. DO NOT PASS.
Lucas went still. His breath hitched, and for the first time since I’d reached him, the fight drained out of his posture.
“Next time,” I said, shaking despite myself, “you don’t get lucky, and the ridge crumbles and you drop a hundred feet to your death.”
He blinked at me.
“I—what?” His voice cracked, shock finally breaking through. Then, he shivered, a full-body tremor as though his system had just caught up.
I swore under my breath and pulled the radio from my belt, thumb jabbing the button harder than necessary. “Anyone up near the ridge, copy?”
Static, then—“Hey, boss. You okay?” Colt.
“Can you get someone to retrieve a truck up near Redstone Ridge,” I said.
A beat. “You okay, boss?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m good. Just get the truck.”
Lucas swallowed. “Wait! We need the truck,” he mumbled, trying hard to orient himself in the world again, his voice changing as his nose filled with blood.
“You can’t drive,” I snapped.
“Den doo dribe,” he managed.
“I’m not leaving Boone up here alone.”
He stared at me as if I’d spoken another language. “How dar de detting back?”
I stepped closer, temper flaring. “I should make you walk.” I gripped his shoulder and tugged him toward Boone. I expected him to fuss, to argue, to snap back with that mouth of his, but he’d gone ominously silent.
I yanked the cloth from my pocket—less a fancy handkerchief and more something I used to cover my face in the cold. At least it was clean.
“Press that to your cut,” I said.
“Huh?” He tried to peer back at me, confusion stacking on top of shock.
I gestured at his face. “Your nose.”
It didn’t look broken, but it had already started to swell, the skin angry and flushed, blood still tracking down over his mouth. He was going to have some impressive bruising tomorrow.
“Get on Boone.”
“Huh?” He was so dazed and frozen in shock.
“The horse.”
“I doh dat,” he managed and blew his nose. “Boone, Buddy, Pancho, Snowball.” He named all the ranch horses, his nose unblocked for a moment, and then stopped, and looked so damn sad. “I’ve never been on a horse.”
I swung up first and hauled him close, settling him in front of me. He was stiff, uncertain, clearly not used to being handled this way, then he struggled, almost panicked, and Boone shifted but stayed solid, patient as ever. It wouldn’t help anyone for Lucas to panic, so I held him tighter, firmand unyielding, my arm a solid band around his middle, feeling his heartbeat jackhammering against my forearm.
“Hey,” I said, low and close to his ear. “Breathe.”
