Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I opened my mouth to tell Jed exactly where he could put his flowery speech, but I couldn’t seem to get the words out. Because the truth was, if I’d be leaving anyway—and I definitely would—part of me wanted to leave knowing I’d made up for my mistakes. That I’d accomplished something, even this one small thing, during my time at the Silver Fork. That maybe Boone might remember me a bit more fondly.
And that was how I ended up on the back of a horse named Branson, headed off to the middle of nowhere on a rescue mission and fervently hoping I wouldn’t be the one who needed rescuing.
11
BOONE
Taking off before first light and watching the sun rise over the eastern edge of the ranch had been exactly what my spirit needed. I felt like I could take a full breath for the first time in days.
I’d slept hard all night and woke up feeling ready to tackle the search for the missing heifers. I was still angry as hell at Richard for his stunt with Tyler, but I realized there was no point in holding on to that anger. After all, when I’d called Richard out for his carelessness with Victory last night, all I’d gotten was a defiant look in return. The kind of look that said my attitude was bullshit and my temporary cowhand wouldn’t be putting up with it for long.
It was true. He wouldn’t. Even if I wanted him to.
And in spite of everything, god almighty, I wanted him to.
As I approached Mob Creek, my favorite offshoot of the Silver Fork River the ranch was named after, I traversed one of the pastures we used for backgrounding—the process of pasturing the herd after weaning so they could put on weight. The stock looked healthy, and I was happy to see plenty of forage available, as well as a full stock tank fed by a dugout up a hill beyond the fence line. After checking the tank and float valve, I began quickly cutting the cattle to see if by any chance the missing heifers were in this lot. Thankfully, our ear tag system made it easier to see at a glance which animals needed a closer look. Birdie yipped and herded, minding my commands and keeping the group I’d already checked away from the ones I still needed to sort through.
I located one of the missing heifers, who didn’t appear close to calving, and made a mental note to radio Jed, then exited the pasture gates to continue on to the pasture closer to Mob Creek. I stopped to drink from my water bottle, and when I was reaching back to stow it in my saddlebag, I thought I heard someone talking.
“I’ve never been there, mind you, but I’ve heard it’s the next Music City behind Nashville. I can’t imagine anyone would want to visit a place in Missouri that’s known for country music, but different strokes for different folks, I guess. And it’s a fine name for a horse. Honestly, it could be worse. Look at Flapjack. Could Mercy not have named him Blackjack, for god’s sake? It would have been a little more impressive than Flapjack. Might as well call the big dude Pancake or Buttermilk. And then it would be shortened to Butter or Cake. And Flapjack would go from being a rodeo star to one of the fat old horses who gossip in the corner stall like Daffodil and Duck. Not that Duck is fat. Shit. Don’t tell her I even implied it. Woah. Woah! Oh, okay, fine. That was just a rock. We’re fine. You’re fine. Good boy. Good horse.”
I recognized the voice immediately; I just didn’t understand why I was hearing it all the way out here, so far from the ranch. I squeezed my knees against Victory, pushing him toward the voice.
As I came around a cluster of trees, sure enough, there was Richard. He was impossible to miss with that damn sequined cowboy hat on his head. The minute he saw me, he let out a squeak of excitement and practically stood in his stirrups. “Here!” he shouted while waving wildly. “I’m over here! I made it! I found you. Branson, buddy, we’re saved.”
Beneath him, Branson seemed to give me a look of barely restrained patience. He wasn’t used to someone so talkative since PeeWee was the one who rode him most often, and PeeWee wasn’t one for idle chat, especially with a horse.
I trotted closer.
“Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Richard said, barely even drawing a breath before continuing. “Jed said all I had to do was follow the water, but there’s just so much…” He waved a hand. “Here out here. I thought for sure I was going to wander until I collapsed, and all anyone would find of me would be three picked-over ribs and a pile of dirty sequins.”