Page 11 of Chains and Vows

The dawn arrives slowly and in pieces. A truck outside. The horses, eager for breakfast. Savannah turnin’ over, breathin’ softly and deep.

When I crack an eye open, there's no light outside.

That's one thing about ranch life. These people do not believe in sleepin' in.

Not even Savannah. She's always up by seven.

But Cash and the others. They start before dawn. And the sounds of those men and their jobs is what I'm hearin' outside.

I swing my legs out of bed, then look over my shoulder at Savannah. Her long blonde hair spills across her pillow like someone arranged it for her. One bare shoulder peeks out from the covers, but the rest of her is all snuggled up in the sheets.

I lean over and kiss that shoulder. Then take my kisses up her neck to her ear. She shrugs up her shoulder and even though I can't see the smile, I see the smile. "Good morning," she murmurs.

"Mornin’, baby. I'mma go outside and have a smoke. Then I gotta go. But I'll be back for dinner."

She turns, eyes so sleepy and sexy, I start rethinkin' my whole day. Her hands come up to my face, then her lips are on my lips, and the kiss is so… beautiful, I actually sigh.

She pulls back, starin' into my eyes. "You be careful now. If you say you'll be back for dinner, I will expect you for dinner."

I give her a little salute. "Yes, ma'am."

She gives me one more smile, then turns over, exhalin' her way back to sleep. I get up, pull today's clothes out of my backpack, dress, shrug on my cut, and then make my way downstairs already shakin' out a smoke.

There's no one down here but I can hear the help in the kitchen.

Outside, October has finally decided to show up. It's cold, but not anything serious by Montana standards. Too cold for a bike, though. And it's gonna be a bitter fuckin' ride back to Badlands. I'm gonna have to start thinkin' about gettin' a truck for the winter.

It's one thing to bum rides off people when you're livin' at the clubhouse as a prospect. It's somethin' else entirely when you're the damn president and live forty miles away on the Ashby Ranch.

I click my lighter open, touch the flame to my smoke, and inhale as I take in Cash and the hands down by the barn havin' their mornin' meetin'. I lean against a fence post, watchin' them.

Cash eyeballs me, then holds up one finger. Like I'm waitin' on him and he needs a second.

Which means he wants to talk to me.

I don't wait, but I don't leave either. I like watchin’ the cowboys. It's a weird job to have in this day and age. They live here. Every single one of them stays at the bunkhouse about a half mile further down the driveway. There's a whole parkin' lot of trucks down there in various states of elegance and or disrepair.

These are the kind of men who take their hats seriously and spend their days doin' god knows what.

I don't have any idea, to be honest. Feedin' things, I guess.

Cash finishes his little speech and the men disperse. All goin' different directions. Most of them get on horses and just take off like this is 1862 and they got a bank to rob or somethin'.

Which is in direct contrast to the ones who get in mud-covered UTVs that have doors, and windows, and heat, and most certainly cost as much as a car.

Probably more.

One guy fires up a drone. Which elicits a sardonic laugh from me.

This world is so crazy.

"Legion," Cash calls. "Glad I caught you."

I exhale smoke in his direction. "That so?"

He stops in front of me, pullin' off his leather work gloves and folding them in his hands. "Can you ride a horse?"

I laugh. "Why?"