She could tell by LJ’s quick, tight movements that he was angry as he stuck the pigging string between his teeth and backed Gracie into the starting box. But he didn’t over-spur Andra’s horse, and when he flipped the calf onto its side, he set the 250-pound animal down so lightly she didn’t even hear the thud. Once he had the calf tied and the buzzer marked his impressive time, he didn’t celebrate. He just walked back to Gracie and vaulted back on without touching a stirrup, the move as effortless as if he were pulling on his pants.

She hated that she was the reason his ever-present grin had disappeared, even for the space of a single afternoon.

Now Andra stopped in front of her house, staring at the darkened windows. The only sound for miles was the wind scouring the grass, the chirp of crickets from beneath her porch steps. She turned abruptly, pressing her cheek against her horse’s warm neck. Gracie whickered, but she didn’t have arms to hug her or a voice to comfort her. She was Andra’s best friend, and she was only a fucking horse.

Somehow, this had become her life. Home every night to empty, silent rooms, and every time she laughed, somebody looked surprised. This morning, her old Rodeo Queen chaps had felt like a costume borrowed from the personality she used to have. She’d walked out of the trailer, and the cowboys’ whistles had reminded her of the days when she blushed and preened under their attention instead of cringing. Revisiting her old self for a morning had felt utterly foreign.

Was Dad right? Was this all she would be capable of now? Was this who she was now?

Gracie backed away and trotted off a few steps before turning back with her ears pricked, offering her favorite game: the equine variation of tag. When Andra didn’t chase her, she walked closer, then trotted away again, her head high and hopeful.

“Not right now, girl.” Andra took her horse to the paddock and hugged her tight before she took off the halter. The empty windows of her waiting house taunted her until she turned back toward the ranch, and she started to run.

She had no idea what this person she had become was capable of, but she was sure of one thing: tonight, she wasn’t going to plod quietly back to her cell.

Nine

LJ slung his shirt onto the floor of the bathroom and yanked off one boot, letting it fall with a clunk. Movement flickered in the mirror over the sink, but he didn’t turn his head to look at himself. Instead, he ripped off the other boot and half threw it, the leather skidding across wood-grained laminate and flipping out into the hall.