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Suddenly one of them hollered, pointing at the rocky incline in front of us, “Watch this!”
Panic seized me. My heart felt like it was about to thud its way out of my chest. I knew these drunk wannabe cowboys could be risky, especially on horseback. The horses weren’t some invincible mystical creatures—they were just regular desert breeds that could easily get hurt.
I held up my hands and yelled, “Whoa! That’s enough of that! Let’s just cool it before someone gets hurt.”
The man sprinted up the rocky incline, his horse rapidly galloping, with wild whoops of joy bellowing from him. His friends egged him on, screaming and hollering like mad birds in flight.
I kicked my horse to keep up, gaining ground as I raced toward them. Fear and anger were pounding through me—these guys had no clue about this place. They were only here to have a good time.
I was too late.
The man was already halfway up the incline, his animal struggling to keep its footing on the unstable surface. The rest of the horses were whinnying and neighing, trying to escape the madness around them. I gasped in horror.
“Stop!” I shouted, my voice cracking with emotion. “You’re going to get yourself and the horse killed!”
The man didn’t listen, his eyes wild with excitement as he urged his horse higher and higher. It was a feat of incredible skill, but it was also incredibly dangerous.
Suddenly, the inevitable happened. The horse’s hoof slipped on the rocks, and the man tumbled down to the ground. I could hear the sickening thud of his bones landing in the dirt as they hit the rocky terrain.
My heart felt like it had stopped beating. I urged my own horse forward, fear and dread sweeping through my veins. When I reached the fallen man—James—he lay there groaning in agony.
I dismounted and knelt by his side, my hands already shaking with anger. I checked him over as best I could, looking for signs of serious injury. “I think I hurt my upper thigh,” he said. I ran my hands over his leg, trying to feel if anything was broken.
“Here?” I asked.
“Higher,” he groaned.
I ran up his leg, already calculating how far we were from the nearest hospital and thinking about the release form they signed. I couldn’t afford to be sued.
“I don’t feel anything,” I said.
He grabbed my hand and forced it over his cock, making a crude sound. “Right there, baby. Rub it up and down.”
I snapped my hand back and scowled at him, making everyone else laugh. Thankfully, he seemed to be okay; he was just a total dick.
I scrambled to my feet, brushing the dirt from my jeans. Storm, the horse James had been riding, was thankfully unharmed but still trembling with fear. I reached out and ran a reassuring hand down his neck, speaking softly in an attempt to soothe him. His nostrils flared, his mane shook, he was still scared.
“Let’s head to camp,” James said, trying to be lighthearted after nearly killing my horse. He chuckled at his own joke, and some of the other men joined in. Fury coursed through me; I wanted to smack him right there for being careless with Storm.
We all got back on our horses and set off toward camp. Nerves had me nibbling my lip as I thought about what just happened and what the night could bring. I’d taken this job for the money, but now I felt foolish for trusting these drunken strangers out in the middle of nowhere.
“I feel free!” one of them—Grant—yelled.
“Grant, please slow down,” I pleaded, but my warnings went unheard. He was too busy showing off to his friends, trying to impress them with his nonexistent horsemanship skills. I gritted my teeth, trying to control my anger at his recklessness. These men were endangering themselves and my horses, and it was up to me to keep them safe.
Another man—Thomas—laughed hysterically before taking a sip of his whiskey. “I feel like an old cowboy. Let’s rob a bank.” My patience was wearing thin as I heard Thomas’s suggestion.
The men laughed, but I could tell that they were getting bored with the trail ride. I knew I had to come up with a way to keep them entertained and under control.
“Hey, guys, why don’t we race to that spot over there?” I suggested, pointing to a nearby hilltop. “The last one there has to pour the first round of drinks at the campsite.”
The offer piqued their interest, and soon they were urging their horses into a full gallop. I followed close behind, relieved that they were at least following my lead.
As we rode, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration. The wind whipped through my hair, and I felt the pounding of the horse’s hooves beneath me. It was moments like these that made me appreciate the beauty of the land and its ability to make me feel alive.
This was the kind of experience I wanted to share with my guests—where I could teach them to respect and appreciate the wilderness, while still having a good time.
Our campsite was a secluded spot by a creek for the horses to drink. We were surrounded by jagged rocks and towering cacti. I dismounted from my horse and watched as the men stumbled off theirs, their laughter blaring through the quiet of the desert.
