Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,53

keep us in control of a situation that could easily spiral out of control.

Yet, here I am, sitting on top of a horse named Oatmeal. James looks like a priest in an old western flick or like Zorro, if only he was wearing a mask—maybe he has one in his pocket and he’s going to pull it out later. All this on top of signing a contract giving Rachel Perry full access to me for multiple interviews.

Rachel looks about as comfortable as I feel, and we share an awkward smile. Hers seems to say, I hope I don’t fall off of this thing. Mine is more like, what in the hell is happening to my life?

James is the only one who appears relaxed on horseback despite how ridiculous he looks in his current getup. He announces, “Follow me.” Luckily, he starts out slowly so we’re able keep up with him.

Sitting tall in his saddle and holding onto both reins with one hand, James starts to sway back and forth in his saddle as he sings some crazy song I’ve never heard before. As near as I can translate, it goes, “Bumbudadumbum bumbudadum BONANZA! Bumbudadum bumbadumbum bumbadadumdumdum!” And, repeat. Over and over again.

“James, honey, what are you singing?” I finally yell loudly enough to be heard over his exuberance. Although, I’m sure the damage is already done. Rachel has got to think he’s a stark raving lunatic. My new boyfriend, the newly released inmate/farmer from Bedlam.

“It’s the Bonanza theme song! Don’t you know it?” he asks.

“Why would I know it?”

He looks startled by my question before answering, “I guess you might not. My grandpa used to watch reruns of Bonanza with Brogan and me all the time.”

“So, it’s a TV show?” I ask. I briefly wonder if I should bust out with “You are the Music in Me” from High School Musical, or maybe some classic Journey as interpreted by the cast of Glee.

“There are real words for the song,” he says, “but I always forget how they go. It’s something like, ‘We chased lady luck, ‘til we finally struck …” He doesn’t get a chance to finish because Thunder takes off like a bat out of hell. We’re literally left in his dust.

Is James trying to show off? Because, yeah, that’s not going to work for me. He needs to get back here and start acting normally. Barring that, less insane would work too.

Rachel moves her horse next to mine and offers, “He’s quite a rider, huh?”

“Looks that way.” I’m not ready to be friendly to her yet.

“Do you guys ride often?” she asks conversationally as we pass another group out enjoying a morning jaunt.

Inquiries like this are why we scripted this meeting. Had we stuck to our plan, I wouldn’t have to field questions outside of James’s earshot. “We’ve been out a few times,” I tell her hoping to have a chance to fill James in on this bit of improv before it can come back to bite me in the butt.

“James’s horse is quite a specimen.”

“Yeah.” Clearly not knowing what I’m talking about, I add, “Thunder is a real doll.” I inwardly beg her to quit asking questions. She seems to get the message because we trot along quietly until we hear a yell as loud as Thor’s hammer splitting the atmosphere. It’s James.

Rachel and I both instinctively knee our mounts to speed them up. Neither obliges. They just continue at a slow amble. By the time we reach James, he’s lying on the ground like he’s getting ready to make snow angels in a pile of leaves.

I try to maneuver off Oatmeal to help him, but I don’t know how to go about it. So, I settle back into the saddle and ask, “Are you okay?”

“That horse has always been the biggest pain in the …”

Before he has a chance to finish his sentence, Rachel turns to me and says, “I thought Thunder was a real doll.”

“Thunder is the very devil,” James answers for me. “He belonged to my dad, and he’s the orneriest, meanest stallion on the planet.” I stay quiet so as not to draw more attention to our differing stories.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, James finally sits up. Thank God Rachel isn’t photographing this. “Ouch,” he groans as he comes to his knees. His suit is filthy and ripped in at least two places that I can see.

“Did either of you notice where that damn horse went?” James asks. Neither of