Page 21 of The Brave and the Reckless (Bravetown #1)

CHARACTER MEET & GREET

From outlaws to sheriffs, meet the walking legends of Bravetown. Snap an unforgettable photo, listen to tales of their Wild West adventures and let them inspire your bravery.

Click here for Meet & Greet schedules and locations.

N OAH

Summer being in full swing meant more time at the park, less time for the ranch.

Usually, I managed to get a few hours out there in the early morning or late afternoon, away from the noise and the people.

My family’s ranch was just a few minutes’ drive away, but between the wide green pastures, the tree-lined perimeter and the rolling hills behind it, it was perfectly secluded.

Perfectly peaceful. Just me and a few tools.

Sometimes Sanny came out to work alongside me.

Time moved differently there. Life moved differently.

I didn’t hate life at the park, but I loved living on the ranch.

Besides taking up more of my time in general, summer season at Bravetown also meant being roped in at the park with few breaks during normal business hours.

“Please don’t put me on hold again, Sally. I only have about five minutes left,” I pleaded with the woman on the other end of the phone call. Instead of an answer, I got elevator jazz.

I hung up and shoved the phone into the hidden pocket on my holster. Tornado nudged me in the shoulder as I closed the gate to his box. He must have sensed my seething annoyance.

Sally was supposed to tell me which form I had to fill out, so we could accept monetary donations for the ranch.

Apparently, I’d filled out the one meant for charities.

How hard could it be to get the correct PDF sent to me?

I couldn’t afford a lawyer to file all this crap for me yet, but god forbid any government website contain clear instructions.

Tomorrow, I’d end up wasting my day off on phone calls and buffering websites instead of mounting new light fixtures in the bedrooms on the ranch like I’d planned.

I rolled my shoulders back and left Tornado with an extra apple before heading off to the side entrance of the park.

I’d pick him up in an hour for the show.

Anna and CJ were already waiting for me at the gate to accompany me into the crowd.

It had seemed ridiculous to me, at first, to have two people shadow my every move.

But they were worth their weight in gold as soon as a kid started barfing up their sugar overdose or some fan took their parasocial attachment to Ace Ryder a little too far.

“Can you tie a good solid knot? You know we have to tie people up when we rob banks,” I told the little guy who had proclaimed he wanted to join the outlaws. He was in a gray cowboy costume, save for the eye patch and the three-pointed pirate hat.

“I tie my own shoes,” he huffed with his hands on his hips.

“Hmm, all right.” I lowered myself to one knee. “Can you make a really scary face? A bandit has to be scary. ”

He responded with a teeth-baring grimace and clawed-up hands that seemed more appropriate for a Halloween monster costume contest. He even added an angry growl.

“That is mighty scary,” I said. “I have to try that.”

I mirrored him, only for him to lift his claws higher and growl even louder.

There. Photo moment for the parents. I kept my own growl going for a moment or two, then outstretched my hand into the space between us.

“All right, Harry, you’re hired. Your bandit name will be Harry the Horrible.

Me and the other outlaws are robbing the bank later and I need you to watch very closely, so you know what to do next time, got it? ”

“Awesome.” He beamed and slapped his sticky, sugary hand into my palm.

The kids’ enthusiasm never ceased to be infectious. It was so simple. Tiny pirate bandit growling at his enemies to scare them.

“Come here, Horrible Harry,” his mother cooed from the sideline of the photo space.

“It’s Harry the Horrible,” he corrected her, hands propped back on his hips.

“Okay, Harry the Horrible,” she laughed. “Come on, Gracie, your turn.”

“I don’t want to,” a young teen girl with blonde ringlets groaned. “I’m way too old for this.”

Harry cackled and turned back around to me. “She lo-o-oves cowboys.”

“Ohmygod, can we go?” She hid her face in her hands while her mother shoved her closer to me by the shoulders.

“I did not buy you that costume for you not to get a picture, honey. ”

I hated these moments. Pushy parents of teenagers who were old enough to make up their own minds. It was a fine balance between coaxing a shy kid into a fun picture and knowing when to stop making it an even more embarrassing moment for them.

This one, however, was in costume indeed. She was dressed like Annie Lou, blue dress and white apron. Ah. The big blonde ringlets made sense. That was how Lindsey used to wear her hair as Annie.

“You look strikingly familiar,” I said and snapped my fingers against my hat to tilt it back. “Have I held you for ransom recently?”

“Ohmygod,” she hissed, face tinting bright red, but she stepped forward, shooting her mother a scathing look over her shoulder. “Fine.”

“And you? Are you ready to join your brother and me on our next raid?”

“No.” She stood next to me, arms crossed, and turned toward her mother’s phone camera. “You should take me for ransom next time though.”

“A volunteer hostage? That’s a first.”

“Only because it’s way more believable. That new Annie Lou is so boring and ugly. Like, why would Kit even want to rescue someone like her? Ugh. He deserves so much better.”

Thank god the girl stomped off and past her mother before I had to come up with an in-character response to that. Even so, CJ held the line back, giving me a moment before the next kid could come through, and caught my eye with a little double tap to his name plaque. Asking if I needed a break .

This was only the third time someone had mentioned the recast to my face over the last week.

The first one with this kind of vitriol.

Nothing compared to the number of videos and comments I’d been bombarded with.

Part of it seemed somewhat legit, people not liking how Annie got handled like a ragdoll.

The other part of it was completely baseless, because they claimed Esra was unfit to play the Pretty Annie Lou– and it always boiled down to Lindsey having been pale, blonde and blue-eyed, all of which didn’t actually account for her prettiness.

Fuck. If you asked me– and a couple of people had, I’d just not answered– Esra was more than pretty.

Regardless of all her infuriating tics, she had those big brown eyes ringed by thick lashes, those pouty cushioned lips, that bunny crinkle on her nose when she made a face… Anyone calling her ugly was either blind or stupid. Esra was a pain in the ass, but she was beautiful.

I waved CJ’s concern off with a flick of the wrist, and the next kid in a bandit costume came jumping toward me. He hollered and threw his hand up in the air for an enthusiastic high five. I couldn’t help smiling as I slapped my hand against his. This was more like it.

E SRA

My legs caved before my butt even touched the chair. I dropped on to it like a sack of flour. My skirts fluffed out around me .

Done. Six days. Eight shows.

And the reflection in my vanity mirror showed as much.

My eyes were a little down-slanted, but those bedroom eyes just looked ready for bed now, with heavy lids and thin creases underneath them.

It wasn’t even pure physical exhaustion.

It was the mental exhaustion of constantly having to be aware of my movements.

My focus slipped today, just for a second, and my right knee folded sideways when I’d run into the bank.

Because of the stabbing pain, I’d barely been able to kick my leg up high enough to make it on to Tornado.

While everyone around me started taking off their costumes and makeup, I went online and ordered myself some knee and ankle braces.

Just cheap generic ones. Still better than having to call my mother and ask her to send me my perfectly fitted expensive ones.

She probably wouldn’t send them anyway. Not without demanding something in return.

It was my own stupid oversight, not packing them when I rarely went a month without spraining something.

I’d just never been away from home long enough for it to even cross my mind.

I confirmed the order just as Lucas sank into the chair next to mine.

“Hey Lucky,” I said and exchanged my phone for a makeup wipe.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He grinned widely, and I had a feeling those pearly whites worked on a lot of women. “We’re celebrating the start of the summer season tonight.”

“Yeah? Who’s we?” I asked as I scrubbed my face.

I usually didn’t care much about guest lists, but the last week had been a crash course in parasocial relationships, and I’d banned myself from checking the online chatter within two days.

Ignorance is bliss and all that. So I wasn’t crazy about celebrating anything if it involved Lucas bringing a bunch of Kit Holliday groupies to the staff house.

Especially if I was limping around on a bad knee.

“Just the cast members. Almost everyone else has to work tomorrow. Over at House C, where Heather, Charlotte, Griggs and all live.”

“Okay, sure.” I beamed up at him. “House party?”

“House part-ay!” He hollered and pumped his fist in the air. The display of a cowboy sheriff acting like a frat boy was comical enough to make me laugh and distract me from my twisted knee for a moment.

Exactly what I needed. Mindless nonsense.

“Perfect. Count me in.”

People cleared out of the room within minutes.

Even the ones who usually hung back to chat were out of their costumes, or at least out of their makeup, in a flash.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one eager for a break.

I hung back, waiting for the Advil to kick in, because I wasn’t sure how much weight my knee would support right now.

“Esra?”

I glanced back over my shoulder, catching Noah’s gaze. He stood in the door, hand on the light switch. He’d changed into one of those plaid pearl snaps and some jeans, and raised his brows as if I’d personally offended him by dilly-dallying.

“I still need a minute. I’ll switch the lights off on my way out.”

“Something wrong?”

“No,” I said, because I definitely wasn’t gonna give him more reasons to treat me like a blister on his heel .

He glanced back and forth between me and the door. “Do you need me to get Sinan?”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I snapped, “I just need a minute to myself. Can you give me a minute?”

His hand dropped from the light switch. Instead of leaving, however, he sighed and took a seat at the vanity next to mine, usually occupied by Heather. The chair settings didn’t fit him, but he didn’t mess with them, just awkwardly folded his long legs under the table as he pulled his phone out.

“What are you doing?” I asked, wondering if he’d come up with some insane reason why I wasn’t to be trusted alone in the dressing room.

“Checking my messages.” Noah shrugged.

Fine. I’d be game for any kind of distraction, and I didn’t want to check my own socials, so I swiveled my chair around to face him. “How many fan videos did you get tagged in today?”

He cocked his chin and narrowed his eyes at me. “I thought you needed a minute to yourself.”

“Humor me.”

“Only one today.”

“I expected more from the Ace Ryder fans,” I mused.

“They’re more active in the evening.”

“Can I see?”

Noah opened his profile to the posts he was tagged in and handed the phone over.

The video was a fun little outfit transition from a girl wearing athleisure in her modern bedroom to wearing a full Wild West outlaw costume on Bravetown’s Main Street.

I scrolled to the next one, which was a video of a young woman going to the character meet and greet and pretending to interview the infamous Ace Ryder for a newspaper.

I had to give Noah credit for staying in character through some of her ridiculous questions.

I kept scrolling, finding fan edits, park trip vlogs, clips of the stunt show, merch hauls. All from the last few days. Who knew theme parks were such a hot topic online?

“Okay, we need to talk about the changes they made in Bravetown this summer, because this– is– not– it ,” a young woman yelled at the phone camera on the next video I opened, clapping between the last few words to emphasize them.

When she said “this”, a grainy picture of Noah lifting me on to the horse popped up.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize…” Noah grabbed the phone and locked the screen before the video could go on.

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” So much for ignorance is bliss . I’d have to down a couple of tequila shots later to get back to bliss.

“Let’s go. It’s been more than a minute.” Noah unfolded himself from the chair with surprising grace.

“I’m going to make some ungodly ambiguous sounds when I get up, and it’s just because every single one of my muscles is sore from sitting on that horse. So don’t get turned on. That’s not happening.” I grinned and wiggled my brows. The painkillers had kicked in, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No,” I laughed. He was so easy. “But I think if I try hard enough, I might make that vein on your forehead pop someday.”

Noah sighed and turned away .

My muscles had stiffened with that deep-rooted ache that even Advil couldn’t touch, and while my joints were pain-free, they resisted enough to make me groan as I rose to my feet. “Ugh.” I bent and patted my knees through my skirts just to make sure they were stable enough to carry me.

“You sound like an eighty-year-old.”

I glanced up to find Noah raising his brows at me.

“Oh, you’re one of those guys.” I scrunched up my nose. “Grandma porn? Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

“Jesus, that’s not what I—”

He shut up when I started laughing. So. Easy.

“Are you coming to the party tonight? We can get you drunk. Maybe that’ll help you loosen up a little.”