to existence against impossible odds.
Molly, her head beside Conner’s, also stared at the city, with a look of ancient wisdom in her eyes.
It was as if the past and present were colliding right there in front of Dallas.
Talk about a story.
Chills ran up her arms as she snapped a quick shot. Then a half dozen more. Instinct told her these would be her best pictures of the day.
“You done?” Conner asked.
“I am.” God, she loved her work.
The drive to the box canyon took another hour and a half, during which Dallas and Conner chatted amiably.
In the canyon, he tethered the horses to a tree and then fetched water for them from a natural spring. They drank lustily, emptying one bucketful after another.
Dallas unloaded the ice chest, adding the trail mix and protein bars she’d brought to Conner’s canned tuna fish, crackers and apples. It was, in her opinion, a perfect lunch.
Afterward, they walked the length of the box canyon. He watched over her as she got all the pictures she needed and then some. Several shots included him, but none were as compelling as the ones from the top of that first hill.
When they finally pulled out, about two o’clock, Dallas’s eyelids were drooping. Sleeping was impossible with the wagon bumping noisily along the narrow trail.
“Thanks again for taking me today,” she said.
“My pleasure.”
Hers, too.
“Can you imagine what it must have been like, crossing the country in a wagon? How incredibly tough those people were to have endured the hardships they did.”
Her comment sparked a lively discussion about pioneers heading west, which eventually segued into one about the history of Mustang Valley. Before Dallas knew it, they were ascending the first of the large hills.
She scanned the horizon, always on the lookout for more photo ops. All at once, a metallic twang sounded, like a coiled spring being released.
Conner glanced down and swore, then yanked on the reins. “Whoa, girls.” To Dallas, he said, “Pull the brake.”
“What’s wrong?” She responded to the urgency in his voice, her fingers grabbing for the brake handle as a spear of alarm sliced through her.
Chapter Four
Once the draft horses were at a standstill, Conner peered over the side of the wagon and assessed the damage. He didn’t like what he saw.
In a matter of seconds, the entire flat iron tire had separated, remaining attached to the wheel by a single bolt.
“Conner?” The concern in Dallas’s voice reminded him that he hadn’t answered her question.
“We’ve damaged a wheel.” He reached behind her and checked the brake, making sure it was set firmly. Handing her the reins, he started to climb down. “Stay put.”
“Wait!” She perched on the edge of the seat. “What if the horses bolt? I’m not sure I can hold them back.”
“They won’t bolt.” He threaded the reins through her fingers. “Just keep a steady hold on these.”
Dolly and Molly waited patiently, though holding the heavy wagon on an uphill grade couldn’t be easy.
“You sure?”
“I need you to stay calm.” He reached up and rested a hand on her shin. “The only reason these horses would run off is to get away from your squealing.”
“I’m not squealing,” she insisted, doing precisely that.
“Right.” Conner hid a grin as he squatted beside the wagon to examine the damaged wheel.
“How bad is it?”
“The tire came off.”
“I thought wagons had wheels.”
He touched the dangling band of metal. “This is called a flat iron tire. It protects the wood.”
She scooted to the edge of the seat and angled her head for a better look. “Can you just take it off?”
“I could try, but we wouldn’t get far before damaging the wheel beyond repair. Then we’d really be stuck, and Gavin would have to come after us with a truck and trailer.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Call for backup.” He removed his phone from his belt and checked the reception, which could be hit-or-miss in the mountains. “Have Gavin bring us a drill and spare bolts so we can repair the tire enough to make it home.”
When he powered up his phone, the screen flashed No Service. “Dammit,” he muttered. Served him right for changing to a cheaper carrier. “Where’s your phone?”
Dallas looked stricken. “In my purse. Locked in my car. I didn’t think it would work up here, so I didn’t bother bringing it.”
He scanned the area, debated his options. “I’ll walk up the hill. Should have better reception up there. But first...”
Seeing what he needed, he set out on foot.
“Where are you going?” Dallas stared over her shoulder at him, her grip on the reins viselike.
“Not far.” Collecting two large rocks, he wedged them tightly behind the rear wagon wheels. He quickly located two more rocks and did the same with the front wheels. The extra precaution should prevent the wagon from rolling backward until they were rescued.
Next, he began unhitching the horses.
“Should I get down now?”
“Sit still. Keep hold of the reins until I tell you it’s okay.”
She grimaced nervously but complied.
Conner hurried.
“Good job, girls,” he said, unhooking the last chain and giving Molly’s rump a pat. He returned to Dallas, who was more than happy to relinquish the reins.
He watched her every move as she climbed down, ready to grab her if she slipped.
It turned out Dallas was nimble as a monkey. On the ground, she swiped her hands together with a job-well-done flourish. “Need any help?”
“I’m good.”
“Too bad we didn’t bring along a spare saddle and bridle. We could have ridden out.”
“I’d have rather brought a toolbox. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Conner
