The next morning, after a breakfast that probably should have been called lunch, they returned to the reservation. The heat of the day beat down on them uncomfortably. Selene wiped sweat off her forehead. “It's a scorcher,” she commented.
“It is,” Brandon agreed. “Don't you feel sorry for the people in the rodeo?” He indicated the ring where a bucking bronco attempted to dislodge a long-haired man in a fringed leather jacket.
“Yes. The horses too,” Selene said, “but to be honest, I'm not much into rodeos, particularly not in the heat. Do you love them?”
He shrugged. “They're okay, I guess, but I wouldn't cross the street to watch one. Want to go to the visitor center? I think it's air-conditioned.”
“I love you,” Selene said fervently.
They stepped into an echoing but blessedly cool po
