“You should tell her that. I’m not sure she hears that often enough.”

“I have. I’m not too shy to share my feelings.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I step outside just as the rain seems to pick up and open my umbrella. I glance around and whistle for the dogs. But if they’re at the stables, they may not hear me over the rain, so I head in that direction, hurrying my steps. I’m about halfway there when I hear barking. I pause to listen. Rain comes down heavy, but there it is again. Barking. It’s getting closer, and I start to run toward the sound because something feels wrong. And I have a feeling of dread in my gut like I’ve never felt before.

Would she hurt herself? Is she so far gone that she’ll hurt herself?

I’m almost to the stables when Famine and War come charging toward me, barking their warning. I stop dead, my heart pounding heavy against my chest.

“What is it? Where is she?” I ask them when they reach me, barking their warnings, their panic.

“Mercedes!” I call out over the rain as I hurry toward the stables where the lights are on and the door is open. “Mercedes!”

I rush inside, Famine and War at my heels, and my heart drops to my stomach when I see the open door of my horse, Kentucky Lightning’s, stall. His saddle hangs where it should be, but the bridle is gone.

“Fuck!”

The dogs whine, and Temperance neighs as I open the door to her stall. I slip her bridle on. I don’t bother with the saddle. There’s no time. She shouldn’t be riding at night and in this weather. In her state. And she should definitely not be riding my horse. She may be experienced, but he’s too big. Too fast.

“Where is she?” The dogs leap out ahead of me barking and charging in what I hope is the direction she went. I call out to her as I ride hard, my torso laid over Temperance’s back to hurry her into the woods. Why would she go into the woods? Rain soaks me, pouring through the collar of my jacket. I can only imagine the state she’s in, and just when panic is setting in, I hear the other dogs. Hear the thundering of Kentucky Lightning’s hooves as he rides fast, too fast.

And then I see them. They’re in a clearing coming up to the creek. He’s used to the jump, but the ground is too muddy, too slippery.

“Mercedes!” She turns her head so I know she hears me. But she’s determined. I can see it from here. Body laid low over the back of the horse, hands tight around the reins.