Joe told me. We rode side by side at the front of the herd. “It was probably Mike or Tim,” I said. “Of course they would know Lucky.” “Yeah, but you weren’t there, bro.” Joe glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was around. “It almost seemed like the guy wondered why Lucky was interfering with their plans.” That put a different spin on things. “Did you ask Lucky about it?” I asked. Joe shook his head. “I pretended like I didn’t hear. Besides, we had the whole stopping-the-stampede thing to worry about.” “That was intense,” I said. “Yeah!” Joe’s eyes gleamed. “I can’t believe you jumped a dirt bike.” “A downed dirt bike,” I corrected. After the stampede fiasco, Wally had called a break for lunch. It was important to let the horses and cattle rest after their run. My adrenaline was still up from the stampede, so it had been hard to eat. Everyone else seemed to feel the same; there had been more talking than eating. The guests and cowhands had rehashed the exciting events from each of their perspectives.
