Page 119 of We Drank the Dawn

Rudy held up his hands. “I’m good.”

Tag’s eyes flicked to me. “Coop?”

“I’ll run if Peter does.”

Peter’s brown eyes widened.

“We’ll run together,” I told him. “Tag and Rudy can throw.”

His uncertainty was replaced by a smile. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Tag rapped the line on the dirt with his boot and we both stepped up to it. Waving the rope around, he said, “It’s been a minute since I’ve done this, Peter. So you might escape.”

Rudy smirked and I knew I was done for. It wasn’t in Rudy’s nature to toot his own horn, but he looked far too pleased with himself, and he hadn’t even thrown the thing.

“What’s our strategy?” Peter asked.

“It’s called run as fast as humanly possible.”

Peter laughed. “Just straight?”

“Yep. A straight line.”

Peter waved his hand out in front of him, indicating the open space ahead of us. “Is there anything out⁠—”

“No,” I said, quickly explaining. “There’s nothing but dirt between here and the fence and you probably got two hundred feet or so before you gotta worry about stopping. You won’t even get that far.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Jesse called, “Ready?”

I said, “Ready.”

“Set…

We crouched.

“Go.”

Peter took off like a bolt of lightning, his impressive speed momentarily throwing my focus and momentum. But, despite his good run, Tag still got him on the Mis in the third second. And Rudy took me down at sip.

“Here.” Hollie shoved a bag of ice in my face. “Take this.”

Putting down my fork, I reached over my shoulder and took it from her. “Thanks.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders. “You guys are nuts.”

I winced as I pressed it against my face. When Rudy roped my ankles, my chin took the brunt of the fall and bled pretty heavy for a while. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped, but it would hurt for a couple days. “Worth it,” I said. And I meant that. Ignoring our chores, we roped until the start of dinner—eventually bringing out See Ya and prodding him into action with treats. Due to the new rodeo status, we were all work and no play these days, so cutting up as a group was fun.

Cody was salty that he’d missed the entertainment. Personally, I was glad he did. His constant jeering and instigation wore on me. I wasn’t sure if Tag had purposefully kept Cody’s circle of duties from overlapping with Peter’s much, but the fact the two of them had had little contact since the day we threw hay bales came as a relief. It seemed like he was always running trail rides or errands or doing something that kept him away from the rest of us.

Part of me wondered if Harlan had said something to Tag about Cody stirring the pot with Peter. Because creating a schedule that would circumnavigate conflict sounded like something Tag would do. When I thought about all the shit we had put him through at some point or another, I had to admit that Tag was a fantastic boss. Maybe the best.

But something in me worried Tag wouldn’t be here one day—that he would get bored with working the ranch and move on in life, and I’d be left in the dust. My counselors at the rehab center would call that “a narrative I fed myself in an attempt to normalize the pain of abandonment.” But I didn’t feel like I was trying to normalize anything. My gut truly felt something on the horizon. Maybe I had a sixth sense for these things—a premonition for the winds of change.

Because, on days like today, when Tag seemed happy and whole and free…I couldn’t help but think someone was coming to cut his tether. That he’d suddenly sprout wings and take to the sky, leaving his little brother behind. And I just honestly hoped I’d be gone before that day rolled around.

What about Hollie? What if she left eventually?