Megan wrapped her arms around Daniel, avoiding his injured shoulder. As the ATV rolled along the packed trail, the slightest bump triggered a jolt of pain. He pressed his lips together, determined not to make a sound. Megan was proud of his stoicism. But seeing him hurt broke her heart. Holding him, she could only wish the accident had happened to her instead.

They covered the distance to the house in about twenty minutes, but to Megan the time seemed much longer. Conner parked the ATV next to his Jeep, climbed out of the seat, and turned back to help Daniel.

“How are you doing, champ?” he asked.

“Okay,” Daniel said, although he was clearly not okay.

“You must be a pretty tough guy.” Conner guided him toward the open door of the Jeep and into the backseat, where Megan was waiting to make him as comfortable as she could. “I didn’t hear you make a sound.”

“I just kept thinking about you, Conner,” Daniel said. “I remember how tough you had to be when that bull got you. I was trying to be like you.”

Megan glimpsed Conner’s face as Daniel’s words struck home. He looked as if he’d been gut punched. She even caught a glimmer of tears in his eyes. Being the object of Daniel’s hero worship could be hard to take.

“Just hang in there a little longer, pal,” he said. “We’ll have you at the clinic soon. They’ll take care of that shoulder. But listen, it’s okay not to be tough. You’ve already shown us how brave you can be.”

Daniel managed a wan smile. “Thanks,” he said.

* * *

As Conner drove out of the ranch gate, Megan covered Daniel with the quilt and cradled him in her arms. Growing up, she’d always protected her little brother. If she’d protected him today and not allowed him to sit on that unsafe bench, he wouldn’t have fallen, and he wouldn’t be in pain now.

The nearest hospital was an hour away in Cottonwood Springs, but the small Branding Iron branch clinic kept a competent staff on rotation. Megan had taken her mother there and knew the place well. With luck, a doctor would be able to treat Daniel’s shoulder, or at least take an X-ray, check him for other injuries, and do something to make him more comfortable.

Daniel’s tough-guy pose was wearing thin. His forehead was creased with pain. He whimpered under his breath.

“I’m so sorry, Daniel,” Megan whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

He looked up at her with his sad puppy eyes. “Sing for me, Megan. You used to do that when I got hurt. It always made me feel better.”

“Sure.” Keeping her voice low, she began to sing. “‘Silent night . . . holy night . . . ’”

“No, not that one,” he said, interrupting her. “Sing the one I like the best. Sing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight.’”