Page 65 of The Cowboy and the Stray

“Thanks for not making fun,” I said, not sure if I meant it as a joke.

He looked down at me, and for once, he actually smiled. “You’d be surprised how many people wash out before lunch.”

I felt a little better.

We went back to it after the break. The sun was higher, and the work got harder as the day went on. By the time we finished, I was covered in sweat, dirt, and yuck. My arms ached, and my knees felt like someone had hammered them with a mallet. But I’d done it. All of it.

When the last bull was through the chute, Eli made a show of taking off his gloves and bowing. “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the new champion of the ranch!”

The others clapped, some with real respect. Gray slapped me on the back, which nearly knocked me over, but I didn’t mind.

Calder just nodded, and that meant more than any applause.

I trudged back to the house and washed up in the big utility sink just inside the mudroom. The water ran red for a while, then clear. I scrubbed my hands until they tingled.

Dinner was barbecue. The real kind, with brisket and beans and cold beer. I sat at the end of the table and ate until I thought I’d burst. Eli and Gray told stories about the day, exaggerating every detail, making it sound like we’d fought a whole herd of stampeding bison with our bare hands. Nobody corrected them. Even Sloane cracked a smile.

Afterward, I wandered out to the porch, needing air. The sky was a streaky blue, with the sun just slipping behind the ridge. I was so tired that my bones hurt.

Calder found me there, hands shoved in his pockets.

“You free after dinner?” he asked, eyes fixed on the horizon.

I almost laughed. “I don’t think I’m ever eating again.”

He grinned. “Not food. You wanna ride out with me? I need to check the back fence.”

I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or if this was some kind of post-traumatic test. But his face was open, no sarcasm.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d like that.”

32. TESS

After dinner, I gave myself exactly five minutes to panic, then another three to rinse off the smell of smoked beef and cow balls. My hair was still wet when I yanked on jeans and my only clean tee. I checked the mirror and debated mascara, but the last time I wore it, I ended up looking like a horror movie clown. I went for Chapstick and a rubber band around my wrist, in case the hair got in the way again. I was half-tempted to spray on deodorant as perfume but decided to live dangerously.

Downstairs, Midge was elbows deep in the kitchen sink, scrubbing the stubborn barbecue pan. She shot me a look as I slipped past. “Don’t you want dessert?” she asked.

“No thanks,” I said.

When I finally made it out, I saw two things. Calder, hands in his pockets, and Brimstone, saddled and restless. There were no other horses in the yard.

He just reached up, gave Brimstone’s nose a pat, and jerked his chin at me. “Ready?”

I was, but I’d been expecting to ride a horse myself, probably a smaller one, so I circled Brimstone and then eyeballed Calder.

“I thought you said we were checking fences,” I said.

“We are. You wanna walk, or…?”

He didn’t finish. Instead, he put his foot in the stirrup and swung up, easy. He offered me his hand like it was no big deal.

I hesitated. I was not a two-up rider. I was barely a one-up rider. And Brimstone was a huge horse. I must have looked as nervous as I was, because Calder grinned for the first time all day.

“It’s fine. Brimstone is solid.”

I put my boot in the stirrup, grabbed his arm, and managed to haul myself up without kneeing him in the spine. I landed hard, practically in his lap. Brimstone snorted and shifted under us but didn’t spook.

My legs were too short to reach the stirrups, so they stuck out at a dumb angle. My hands were caught between grabbing the horn and bracing on Calder’s thigh. I tried to lean away from his body heat, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.