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“I owe you, Travis. See you at home.”
“You bet. Got a few things to finish up, so don’t you be too hung over in the morning. We have to get Outlaw into his trailer.”
“Jesus in a handcart, that’s gonna bust our balls.”
Chapter Seventeen
Saturday, November 3rd.
Wild Stallion Ranch.
Right after breakfast it was crunch time. We had to get Outlaw into the fucking trailer and we couldn’t hit the road until he was in and secure.
Everything else was loaded and ready. Tammy had worked hard on the Leaving Montana list and she was diligent and detail-oriented. Smart and sweet and all she wanted was to be with me and be safe.
I can’t put her in the safehouse.
The three of us went out to the barn and I tried not to show stress over what was about to happen. Outlaw would smell fear on me, and he would react accordingly. Horses were smart—sometimes smarter than humans.
“I’m nervous about this,” whispered Tammy.
“You’re not the only one but try not to show it. Outlaw will pick up on it and he’ll try that much harder to get his own way.”
Still half in the bag, Billy opened the gate to Outlaw’s stall, grabbed hold of his bridle and marched him outside to the waiting trailer.
The double doors at the back were standing open and Billy marched Outlaw inside and secured him to both sides of the trailer. He handed the big stallion a carrot, walked out and closed the doors.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
Billy shrugged. “He likes me better than you.”
“Okay.” I laughed. “I appreciate you getting him in there. I hope I can get him out as easily.”
I gave Billy a hug and Tammy did her last-minute check before we whistled for the dogs and put them in the back seat. They barely had enough room to crowd in beside all the stuff that wouldn’t fit in the load bed under the tarp.
With a huge smile on her face, Tammy jumped into the passenger seat and gave Billy a big wave. She’d already hugged him three or four times at least.
By the look of him, he’d go straight back to bed when we left and sleep until noon.
The new sheriff of Harrison County was hungover.
Butte. Montana.
All morning I drove south on I-15, and by lunchtime we arrived in Butte. Had I passed through that town on the way to the ranch? I couldn’t remember which way I’d come, and it wasn’t really that long ago.
Seemed like I’d spent a lifetime in Montana.
“You hungry, Tam?”
“Yep, can we stop to eat? I need to pee.”
“Hey, you can tell me that. I’ll stop for you.”
“You said you didn’t want to be stopping every five seconds once we got going.”
“I didn’t mean you had to pee your pants, Tammy.” I laughed and so did she.
“How about the Golden Arches? We can use their bathroom and have a quick lunch.”
