Page 18 of Danger

I don’t say anything, just watch.

Most women, besides Mama, don't last round here—twist an ankle in the mud, call an Uber, and vanish. So, I’m waiting for the part where she folds.

She finishes the braid, laughs when it unravels, and starts again with too much goddamn patience. She’s got hands that learn quickly and a face that softens real easy around Fisher. That’s not good.

Charming and I finish turnin’ out the horses, and for exactly five seconds, everything is peaceful. Then there’s a crash followed by Fisher’s sharp cry.

Every muscle in me locks up.

Before I can reach the gate, Winnie’s already there—kneeling in the mud beside him. One of his boots is caught between the slats, leg twisted wrong as he’s trying to free himself, his face blotchy with held-back tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move,” she says, calm and quick. She studies the gate for half a second, then works the latch loose with both hands. “There. Try now—slowly.”

Fisher eases his foot free. He winces, but it comes loose. Winnie steadies him with a hand on his shoulder, brushing mud from his jeans.

“See? You’re okay,” she says, softly. “Almost lost a leg. Which means you’re gonna have a cool story to tell later.”

He sniffles before laughing. The tension in his shoulders eases.

I stop short a few steps away from the gate, out of breath and thrown. She handled it—without flinching, without waiting. Just…did it.

I didn't ask her to. She didn’t even look around for help. Just took care of him.

Charming comes up behind me, voice low. “See. Chill out. She helped him. Might try sayin’ thank you.”

“He doesn’t need to get attached,” I say, watching as she steadies Fisher when he stumbles. “That’s not fair to him. This isn’t permanent. She can’t help out Mama forever.”

Fisher wraps his arms around her neck without a second thought—muddy boots and all—and she laughs, easy and genuine.

Charming exhales through his nose. “You gonna explain that to him?”

I turn away, jaw tight.

She’s Trouble’s past. She’s good with my kid. But she’s only here helpin’ Mama. Temporary.

Fisher can’t go gettin’ attached to his uncle’s ex-girlfriend.

That’s not how this works.

CHAPTER SIX

winnie

By the timeI finish up morning feed and twist my hair into a messy bun that looks more likehot-mess-cowgirlthanwoman-who-has-her-life-together,I spot it.

The piece of paper shoved under my windshield wiper.

I reach to grab it, smoothing the wrinkles with my thumb.

happy your here

The “your” is wrong. The handwriting is rushed and impatient, like whoever wrote it couldn’t be bothered to slow down long enough to care.

Do cowboys write notes?

For some completely ridiculous reason, I picture Danger. But there’s no way he’d leave a note.

The thought is insane. That man barely forms full sentences, let alone misspelled affirmations on notebook paper. I can’t see him secretly writing some note out of the kindness of his heart.