The truth was he wanted to do a little of both. Ginger was equally on edge; the mare had backed up against the wall of the round pen and was standing still, head hanging down slightly, ears up and motionless. Dylan swiftly closed the distance between them and dropped down beside Emily, who was now up on her elbows, looking more peeved than in pain. He watched her sit up farther and test her limbs, apparently finding nothing broken. His relief morphed into anger. “You could have been seriously hurt.” Emily accepted his hand and struggled to her feet. She dusted off the seat of her pants and tilted her head. “But I wasn’t.” Dylan kept one eye on Ginger, who was still standing against the wall, watching them both. Figuring the best thing to do was put the horse to pasture, he went back to Ginger and took her by the lead. “If I’d had to tell your parents you’d been injured…” Emily came toward them both. “No point in worrying about something that never happened.” She boldly met his eyes.
