A weaker mind, hell bent on self-preservation proved to be an asset in difficult situations. 

Overburdened by the shock of Charlotte's actions and the trauma of trying to make sense out of her confessions, my brain cells decided to pack it up and go home. 

Which was fine, because my job at the moment suffered from a serious case of Hurry-Up-and-Waits. The helicopters rounding up the cattle in the pastures were so far away that I couldn't even hear their rotors yet.

It was really stupid too, we were so close to the ranch that I could see Alice sitting by the barn, bobbing her head along to her music. I could've easily hung out with her to pass the time and have gotten back into position once I saw the cows on the horizon. Unfortunately, OSHA regulations required that I stay put.

Partnered up with I-don't-talk-unless-my-life-depends-on-it-Garrett, I sat atop Satan in my bright orange safety vest, bored out of my skull, and baked in the sun. Garrett sat a few feet from me on a Blue Roan, playing video games.

"How much longer?" I called out to him.

He shrugged without looking up.

"We've been sitting out here doing nothing for over an hour." It made no sense to whine at him about something he had no control over, but I couldn't help myself.

He ignored me.

"So tell me again how this is supposed to work?" I knew damned well how it worked, but couldn't stand to sit there with only silence to keep me company for even a minute longer.

"Think relay race. Substitute cattle herds for batons," he said.

We were assigned to the home stretch. It wasn't a difficult position, all we had to do was wait for the herd to pass, then bring up the rear.

And then, return to position for the next round. All. Day. Long.

"Is it just me or is it getting super hot? I think the forecast was off. My neck stings, so I'm pretty sure I'm getting sunburned. Oh, what are we supposed to do for lunch? I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

Wordlessly, Garrett shifted and detached the two way radio from his belt. He fiddled with the buttons some then turned his body my way. He whistled to get my attention, his arm swinging down in preparation for a windmill pitch.

"No! Don't! I'll drop -"

Before I could finish, the radio landed square on my lap.

Wow, now that's some aim.

I was about to tell him so, but Garrett was already dead to the world, fully engrossed in his game.

"What do you want me to do with th-" The radio buzzed and Jake's voice broke through the static. "Jake?"

"Layla?"

I smiled, picturing him not too far away, doing the same thing I was doing. He had such a good heart, defending poor Charlotte like he did, I should've known better than to doubt him. "Wait, Garrett, did you need to talk to Jake?"

Garrett shook his head and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like "Not my girlfriend, not my problem," before nudging his horse forward, moving away from me. Maybe that should've been offensive, but I was pleased.

Seemed Jake was making us public information, after all. That was exciting. It made it so real.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"'Bout two miles down from you. How's Satan holding up?"

I told him all was good then complained about the weather and the waiting, and bitched about how all this could've been planned better. He listened and offered platitudes, just like a good boyfriend should. That felt real nice.

Maybe we should have walkie talkie sex.

"Did Satan give you any trouble in the morning?"

Thinking back to the morning got me all disoriented again. The world undulated in a maddening way, until I couldn't tell if it was because everything around me was spinning or because I was turning myself. Either way, I felt sick. Really sick.

So much for walkie talkie sex then.

"You there?" he asked.

I hesitated. "I have to tell you something but you have to promise not to get mad."

When he agreed, I told him about what had happened with Charlotte at the stables. But I kept it bare bones and left out the entire part about the whys because it felt gossipy, almost salacious.

"That doesn't make sense," said Jake. "She was with me when I saddled him up this morning, two hours before you even got there. Why would she wait to mess with the saddle until just before your shift?"

I frowned. "Why was she with you?"

Jake sighed. "Don't start that with me again. I told you, I'm keeping an eye on her for Bishop."

I had to take a deep breath to keep myself from getting upset. I no longer had a problem with Jake defending Charlotte, but it hurt my feelings that his first instinct was to doubt my story.

Don't pick a fight. Don't pick a fight.

"Whatever, I don't know about any of that. All I know is what I told you." My tone was a little passive aggressive but he chose to ignore it.

"Yeah, alright," he said. "We'll take care of it."

Before I could ask him who this "we" was and how exactly it was going to be "taken care of", I heard the telltale sound of hooves pounding earth amidst the static. People shouted.

"Are they coming?" In spite of myself, my spirits lifted. I was more than ready for some action.

"Yeah, I'll see you in about twenty."

After returning the radio to Garrett, I sat there for another twenty minutes, picking at my nails and flip flopping between feeling guilty about tattling on Charlotte and resenting the hell out of Jake.

"That's so stupid." I said to myself. "How the hell am I supposed to know why she timed it like that? Maybe she had to go get her tools of destruction. Maybe she got sidelined by someone. Hell, maybe it was a last minute decision to fucking kill me. And you know what? I deserve more than a boyfriend who..."

I swore beneath my breath. Charlotte was always going to be a point of contention between Jake and me, wasn't she?

"Or maybe she wanted to get caught. Maybe she just wanted even more of Peyton's attention."

Hmmm... we might be onto something here.

Charlotte had begged me not to tell Peyton, but could that have been an attempt at reverse psychology? Could it be that she never meant to hurt me at all?

But that's an awful lot of trouble to go through... Why not go with something simpler like-

The ground trembled. Satan snorted and tossed his head.

The cows were coming home.

Three hundred heads of cattle running at full speed turned the whole world gray. The dust was slow to rise, but once it did, it dispersed into the air at an alarming rate, coating everything in the vicinity, including me, in a thick layer of grime. I even felt the stuff sticking to the back of my throat.

And nature's power sure had a way of putting a girl in her place when she was starting to feel a little too big for her britches. I felt small and insignificant, in front of all this, my petty gripes inconsequential in the grander scheme of things.

Watching the herd charge by with cowboys flanking them on all sides was awe inspiring and thrilling. But I couldn't help but think that we were only pretending to be in control - there was no stopping momentum like this.

Satan grew restless so I pulled back a ways from the path. This particular herd consisted of longhorns, the largest of them with horn spans of nearly seven feet across.

God, can you imagine what would've happened if Charlotte had managed to trick me into opening that door? To this?

Nothing could've saved me and the carnage would've been spectacular. My stomach rolled as I pictured my torso impaled onto one of these horns. Then I imagined Peyton on his knees beside my gored body and felt like vomiting all over again.

"All I want is for him to suffer, like I suffer. I want him to hurt."

Well, Charlotte was brilliant, I had to give her that. Peyton would've suffered dearly all right, suffered immediately and forever, beyond the level of suffering any human being could be expected to endure.

Hell, it didn't even have to be me. It could've been anyone and it would've killed him just the same, to know that he was partly responsible. Though knowing Peyton, he'd take the blame in its entirety and then some. Either way, that was a close call. Thank God I wasn't that stupid. No one was that stu-

Wait a minute, it could've been anyone.

Charlotte knew I would never walk out that door, no matter what she tried, yet she'd gone through the trouble of dismantling the bolt.

It's not me.

Peyton adored me, but he didn't necessarily feel responsible for me.

It's not me!

My heart dropped and my mouth went bone dry, all the muscles in my body weakening in fear.

"Where's Alice?" Frantic, I desperately scanned the knoll where she'd been sitting. Empty. "Alice!"

The missing instructor. The borrowed headphones.

"Alice? Alice!" I yelled her name at the top of my lungs, my voice so shrill that it made my own skin crawl.

Alarmed, Garrett raced back and reigned in his horse. "What's wrong? Who's Alice?"

"The girl who's always with me. Brown hair, real pretty? Garrett! Where is she!"

No, no, no, no, no. Please. Please God, no.

Bewildered, Garret could only stare at me.

Come, Satan, we need to ride.

I dug my heels into his flanks, and he granted me speed. Garret shouted in protest but I barely heard him, or the squak of the radio as he activated it.

I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw only Alice.

Please, let me be wrong.

Satan was damned fast, but it wasn't enough. There were so many animals moving as one entity that I couldn't even see where the mass ended.

Not fast enough, not fast enough...

I pushed Satan harder, then harder still until finally, finally I saw the end of the line.

And in the distance, the door.

I think I screamed her name, but no sound escaped my lips.

The door moved though, the frame rattling as if someone was trying to unstick it from the hinges.

Desperation near blinded me, as she stepped out, her back to us, the lead animals no more than fifty feet from her.

She turned. Her face went ashen. And she froze.

Who could blame her?

Except I didn't see Alice anymore, but Peyton in her place. Peyton as the lovely boy he was when I'd first met him, Peyton standing outside my mom's trailer, year after year, looking for me with his hands in his pockets, Peyton smiling at me, leaning into me, holding my hand, loving me in the only way he was allowed to, Peyton and his gentle, battered soul, Peyton and his haunted life.

He'd never survive this.

Tears in my eyes, I put my spurs down. Never in my life had I used them on a horse before.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Satan would never trust again, maybe have to be destroyed. But I couldn't let this happen. Not for a horse. Not for a horse. 

I felt each kick like a hot knife piercing my own side, and what killed me more was Satan complying without complaint.

Fueled by pain, he galloped, but it still wasn't fast enough. I kicked harder, and harder still, long after the spurs had slashed through his coat and started tearing into his flesh, so deep that it strained my muscles to free my boot from him, only to drive it back in again.

"Alice!" I leaned sideways, holding my hand out to her.

She stopped beating at the locked door and turned, holding her hand out in the air toward me. "Layla!"

Oh, but she was so far away. And I only had this once chance. Even if I got there in time, then what?

I can't do it. I don't have the upper body strength to haul her up.

Jake's voice from behind me. "Layla! Fall back! I've got her! Layla!"

He was lying. He was too far away. If he weren't, he would've physically stopped me.

How lucky I was, to have been beloved, all my life, by the greatest men on earth.

I pulled my legs up, positioning my body into a crouch on the saddle, praying that Satan would keep his speed.

He did.

The last thing I heard as I jumped the horse was Jake, screaming my name.

The pain was beyond description, beyond comprehension, so blinding white, so searing, my entire body lighting on electrical fire. I can't imagine that being run down by a freight train would feel much worse. But God was merciful because it only lasted a second before numbness set in.

Alice screaming, her hands, distraught, all over my face. Blood on hers. Her blood? Mine?

No matter. She was alive.

Good, good.

The cows continued on their way, trampling everything in their path, stirring up dust, more dust, everything a colorless gray.

Then even that faded away until only stillness remained, peaceful and lovely like a hummed lullaby.

And maybe my daddy's voice.

And then, nothing at all.

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