Mr. Mitchell, had saved them from foreclosure years ago, after a bad drought and her mother's mounting medical bills. Sarah had always felt the weight of that obligation, had alwa

l, out-of-the-way rodeos, was her only rebellion, her only space to be purely herself, to feel the adrenaline Jake now claimed she couldn't u

t the simple gold bracelet Jake had given her. It fe

. A text from an

ortant. A friend of mine is a great silversmith. If you g

n Wa

family. She'd seen him at some of the practice circuits, a quiet, intense presence. He'd never

He must have meant he saw something *abo

aw what happene

have bee

ny. And, apparently, her

nk. Tiffany woul

Sarah. She had to go to that party

a plain cotton shirt. No glamour, just practicality. She drove her old pick

could hear the music and laughter from in

group of his usual fair-weather friends, Tiffany glued to his si

s neck, was her grandmothe

st Tiffany's flashy outfit, a treasured

t towards them, her

approached. Jake looked u

t are you d

ake," she said, her voice clear and

is old thing? Jake said I could wear it. It matches m

any. It's a family he

mething you'd find at a flea market. Jake sa

ce rising slightly. "It was my grand

ached

ur hands off me! It's min

" Jake interjected, looking flus

d, incredulous. "You let her

ere was a sharp snap. The leather cord of the bolo tie broke. The heavy silver dollar, her

p. There was a new, ugly dent on one side

Sarah's eyes,

me. Guess it really was just an old p

utting a hand on Sarah'

ce placating. "It's just a thing. I'

tering into a million pieces. He tr

d silver dollar in her hand, t

sion unreadable. He'd seen the whole thing. His earlier text sud

r and music fading behind her, the broke