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 tried not to laugh. “So, you think the Silver Fork looks a lot like the Jungfrau herds? I’m flattered.”
His face flushed, and he looked away. “Maybe you should invest in some traditional Swiss cowbells. Might spiff the place up a bit.”
Now I truly did laugh, picturing my ear-tagged Brahmans and Herefords with giant bells under their chins. “You might be right. It would certainly help us find 9033. We could just listen for a little jingle.”
Richard turned a sly grin back at me. “Birdie would find her right away. I was singing in the shower the other night, and Birdie started howling outside the door. I couldn’t decide if it was flattery or an insult.”
I glanced down at my spoiled dog. Her speckled chin was resting on Richard’s thigh, and her eyes were closed in utter pleasure. His hand idly stroked her head and scratched gently behind her ears.
Seeing his long fingers moving over my dog made me feel some kind of way.
“She’s a good girl,” I murmured before looking away.
We finished our break, and I helped an incredibly sore Richard back into the saddle. I spent the better part of the next twenty minutes imagining giving his inner thighs a diligent massage. With my mouth. It made for an uncomfortable ride.
As the afternoon slipped away though, I began to worry more about the missing heifer. There was a lot of ground to cover, and Richard wasn’t exactly an expert rider.
I couldn’t regret Jed sending him, but at the same time, it meant less time spent searching, and time was critical in the case of supporting a heifer through her first delivery.
We entered several other pastures where yearlings and feeders grazed, but there was no sign of our missing heifer.
“Are we going back to the ranch?” Richard asked hopefully. “It’s going to be hard to ride in the dark.”
I shook my head. “No. We need to go back to the original pair and keep an eye on them overnight.” Not to mention, there was no way Richard would survive another four hours in the saddle.
When we finally got back to the Mob Creek pasture, I checked the pair and the first-calf heifer to make sure they were still well. We left the pasture and moved closer to the creek so the horses could drink again. There was a frequently used camping area there where we could bed down for the night.
I started to talk Richard through the process of removing Branson’s saddle, but he quickly rolled his eyes. “I know how to do a little bit more than shovel shit, you know. Who do you think untacked Victory for you the other day when you came back from that fence repair and went straight off to help with a calving?”
I winced at the reminder of what I’d said to him the day before. It had been uncalled for and rude. I pulled off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You did good today. Real good.”
Richard froze, his back to me and his hands on his saddle. I wished I could see his face—try to read his expression. I waited for him to make some quip or joke, but after a moment’s hesitation, he merely nodded and gave me a soft “Thank you.”
I felt like there was something more I should say, a chasm between us that needed filling. But the moment passed when Richard clapped his hands and turned. “So,” he said, his voice overly bright. “Do we need to gather wood or something? I’ve never camped before, but I’ve watched a few seasons of Survivor.”
I studied him for a moment. He’d sounded a little forced, and I realized that he held his shoulders rigidly, almost as if he was guarding himself. Something about what I’d said had made him uncomfortable and desperate to change the subject. Was it my apology? Or my compliment? I wasn’t sure, but I let it go.
“It’s just like that,” I said with a wink. “After dinner, you’ll have to look for the hidden immunity idol unless you want me to vote you off the ranch.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized it may seem like I was saying I wanted Richard gone. When nothing could be further from the truth. I opened my mouth to explain, but he just cocked a hip to the side and raised an eyebrow.
“Honey, you would be terrible at Survivor. Don’t you know you always keep the inept but dangerously good-looking comic relief? He’s easily expendable at the end.” He turned and untacked Branson before unpacking his saddlebags.
He’d said it as a joke, but a part of me wondered if that was how he actually saw himself. Which wasn’t fair, especially given all that he’d accomplished today. I opened my mouth to tell him that when I noticed the growing pile of stuff accumulating at his feet as he unpacked his saddlebags.