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“Ride forward!” Maverick stomped, his body coiling. “Easy, Mav.”
Rex kicked out behind before lunging forward.
Beth yelped, her body jerked forward and sideways with the sudden movement. She grabbed the horn. But instead of moving forward, out of the swarm, she was clutching the reins, holding Rex back. He tossed his head back and forth, then crow-hopped, his back arched and his whole body bouncing with stiff-legged jumps.
Beth slid farther to the side.
“Ride out of them!” Grayson ordered again.
Rex was a camp horse through and through, but even he had his limits. He let out a grunt, a squeal, and finally bolted through the swarm. Beth’s scream cut through the trees.
It sent a cold chill through his bones.
“Beth!” The wind ripped her name from his lips.
He’d run down loose livestock plenty of times, but it was different having Beth on Rex’s back. Knowing she might come off in front of them. Be trampled.
He urged Mav in pursuit. They flew through the buzzing cloud, too much adrenaline pumping for Grayson to notice if he’d been stung.
Beth’s boot had come out of her left stirrup, and her body was hunched forward and to the right. Her knuckles were white, her left hand gripped tight around the horn. But she was sliding.
Grayson moved Maverick to the left side, the scrape of branches slapping his face.
Beth was trying to pull herself upright, back into the saddle, but couldn’t do more than hang on.
Beth would not die on his watch. He’d get her off that horse and send her home.
No more rides. No more camp.
Done.
He wouldn’t be responsible for someone else getting hurt.
Before the next curve in the trail, Rex dropped to a hard trot. Grayson leaned down, grabbed the loose rein. “Whoa, buddy.” Rex slowed to a jog. “Whoa,” Grayson repeated. The horse’s feet slowed again, this time to a walk, then stopped.
Grayson slid from Maverick and ran to Beth’s side. He tried to pry her from Rex, where she clung, half in, half out of the saddle. “I’ve got you. You can let go now.” She was small enough—he plucked her off the horse and carried her to a nearby patch of moss along the trail. She could probably hear his heart racing, and he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted his voice. He set her down, holding on so she wouldn’t lose her footing.
One look at her and his decision was made.
A white pallor blanched her face, and she wicked several tears away with her sleeve.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He held her face in his hands. “You’re okay.”
He had one week of camp behind him, and he could handle the rest of the weeks by himself. They’d stick to the regular trail and he’d ride ahead—like he should have done this time so he could have warned Beth. Could have taken the brunt of it with Maverick.
Protected her.
“Were you stung? Are you allergic?” He inspected each area of bare skin on her face, neck, arms, hands.
“A few stings. I’m not allergic.” She rubbed her arm.
He spotted two welts, the stingers still pulsing. He flicked each one out.
“Just in pain. I think I hit the saddle horn too.” She touched her hand to her abdomen.
Probably not okay for him to take a look at that. “It might hurt more tomorrow. Can you breathe fine?”
She nodded, blinking back unshed tears.
