“That won’t be necessary.”

He frowned. “If anything happens to you, the boss will have my hide.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he knows it was my idea and you had nothing to do with it.” If Chase thought her good enough to ride to church, surely she could ride to town.

Rusty afforded her a worried look but didn’t argue or try to talk her out of it. Instead, he saddled Daisy and led the mare outside.

Emily grabbed the saddle horn and slipped her foot into the stirrup. With one smooth movement, she lifted herself astride the saddle. The ease by which she mounted made her smile. Now that she’d conquered her fear of horses, she felt like she could conquer anything.

Rusty handed her the reins. “If I didn’t know better, ma’am, I’d think you were born in a saddle.”

After enduring Chase’s criticism for so long, she appreciated the compliment. “Thank you, Rusty,” she said and scanned the terrain.

A couple of horsemen were rounding up cattle in the far distance on the sloping grasslands, but none appeared to be Chase. The air was still, and all looked calm and peaceful.

It was the perfect day for a ride.

There’re snakes out there. Wolves and panthers are out there too. And bars.

With the thought came a sudden loss of confidence, and her hands tightened on the reins. “Is there a chance I might meet up with wild animals?” she asked.

Rusty shook his head. “Nah. They don’t usually come out this time of day. Too hot.”

“What about snakes?” The rattler she’d met up with hadn’t seemed to be bothered by the heat.

“Belled snakes like to hide in rocks, so stay on open ground and they won’t give you any trouble.”

His assurances were encouraging, but still, she hesitated.

“Everything okay, ma’am?”

“Yes, yes. Everything’s fine… Eh… I just need to know… Which way to Haywire?”

His eyebrows vanished beneath the brim of his hat. “You’re riding all that way?”

She shushed him. “I am, but don’t tell anyone.” Giving him a knowing look, she added, “You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”

“My se—” He stared at her, and his face turned scarlet. Without another word, he pointed a finger, indicating the way to town.

* * *

Chase adjusted his spyglass and scanned the terrain all the way to the rolling hills in the far distance. More cattle had been found missing, and he could ill afford to keep losing them. He and his men had tracked down the panther, but the rustlers defied capture.

Next to him, Foxhound held himself still as a statue. Intelligent brown eyes stared out from a square, rugged face. A headband was wrapped around his forehead, and his glossy black hair fell down his back to his waist.

His Cherokee name was Oukonunaka, meaning white owl. The cowhands had given him his current moniker, Foxhound, as a salute to his tracking skills. It was also a whole lot easier to remember.