Prey by Linda Howard Page A

try to brush his rider off against a bush, a tree, a building, anything that was handy. But he was okay with carrying a load, and he was strong enough that he could carry more than the average horse.
    She’d never admit it to anyone, but she was a bit fond of the cantankerous bastard. He was what he was, he knew what he’d do and wouldn’t do, and the two of them got along fine as long as neither she nor anyone else tried to ride him.
    The other three horses, a light bay, a chestnut, and a roan, had their own foibles but at least they’d tolerate riders. The horse she’d chosen to ride, the roan, was more fractious than the other two, which was why she’d chosen him for herself. She’d had him the shortest length of time and hadn’t yet learned all his tricks, but if he decided to bite or buck, better it was with her than with a client. The chestnut was the most docile, so she put Chad on him. The light bay fell somewhere between the chestnut and the roan in temperament.
    “Supposed to rain tonight, tomorrow,” Ray said to her as he closed the gate on the trailer and latched it. “Not good hunting weather.”
    “I know.” The rain wasn’t good for people, that is; the animals hunted and fed regardless of whether or not it was raining. “We’ll get in some time today, though.”
    “Good luck. Hope I see you back here tomorrow.”
    She flashed him a smile. “That
would
be nice, but even if they get a bear today, I’d rather not ride back here in the rain.” The weather report she’d seen called for thunderstorms, which would be unusual for this time of year—unusual but not unheard of. One of the worst rainstorms she could remember had happened in November, when she was in grade school. Rain was almost always welcome, though, regardless of the time of year.
    She began saddling the horses, and again Ray helped her, because Chad was watching them with a completely befuddled look on his face and Davis was scowling as he punched numbers on his cell phone, as if he could force it to have service out here if he just hit the magic combination of buttons.
    “Can that guy ride?” Ray asked under his breath, nodding toward Chad.
    “He can manage. I’m putting him on the chestnut.” She was in the process of saddling the chestnut as she spoke. She eyed Chad’s legs, made the stirrups just a little longer than if she’d been saddling a horse for herself.
    “That’s rough country you’re heading into. Hope he can stay in the saddle. What about the other guy?”
    “He said he’s experienced. I’m taking him at his word.” There was nothing else she could do. Make Davis demonstrate his riding ability, maybe? Sure. She could really see that happening.
    Next Samson was loaded down with their supplies. The big boy blew out a breath and turned his head to nudge her rather gently, considering his size. She lightly slapped his neck. “Are youanxious to get on the trail?” she asked him, and he blew again as if he understood her.
    While she was saddling Samson, Davis and Chad had finally begun doing something, taking their rifles from their cases, loading them, and sliding them into the scabbards on the right of the saddles. She had sighted her own rifle in the day before, and hoped they had done the same before shipping the weapons; they would do some shooting to re-sight, but with luck they’d need only a couple of shots. She hated to use more ammunition than necessary.
    Finally, she handed out the canisters of bear spray, two each, and the holsters to carry them in. “Keep these within easy reach, not in a pocket or your saddle bag,” she said.
    Chad looked at the canister. “Why bother with this when we have the rifles?”
    Angie grinned. “Ever tried to take a leak while you’re holding a rifle? All that zipping and unzipping? You’d need three hands.”
    He turned beet red. Davis actually laughed, the sound surprising her because she hadn’t expected any sign of humor from him, even at someone