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)
When I called his attention to a bull moose in a distant stand of trees, Richard’s face lit up in wonder. But instead of grabbing his phone to take a picture, his expression turned thoughtful, and he peppered me with intelligent questions about the threat of native wildlife on the herd. I explained how we managed the various threats—the importance of quality fencing, keeping eyes and ears out for signs of various predators, and communicating swiftly with our neighbors when those predators were spotted—then I answered his questions about other threats like disease and weather.
Somehow, as we rode along, the topic turned to sire selection and heifer replacement—one of my favorite subjects—and I went off on the kind of long tangent that would have had Oscar fake-snoring within seconds.
“Sorry,” I said when I caught myself. “I’m boring you—”
Richard snorted and glanced at me from the shade of his ridiculous hat. “You couldn’t bore me if you tried, Boone Hammond,” he said matter-of-factly.
I might have taken this for polite fiction, but to my shock, he drew me right back into the conversation, sharing some observations he’d made as he’d gone about his workday with various ranch hands that showed he’d paid far more attention to our operation than I’d given him credit for.
I found myself staring at him with the same fascination he’d shown the damn bull moose, like he was some species of wildlife I’d never seen before. I felt… proud of him—though it wasn’t at all my place to say so. And I couldn’t help admiring him too. The reality shift of moving from New York to Wyoming must’ve been difficult, but he’d dealt with it far better than I could have handled a shift in the opposite direction.
Richard was tougher and more engaged than people gave him credit for.
Oscar was wrong about Richard being lazy and spoiled, and I couldn’t help hoping that Oscar had been wrong about other things regarding Richard too. Like, that ranch life wasn’t simply Richard’s latest shiny obsession but something he genuinely enjoyed. That his interest in the Silver Fork—in me—wasn’t quickly approaching its expiration date. That maybe Richard would stay here and—
I stopped my foolish thoughts right in their tracks. Stay here and what?
I wasn’t looking for long term. And even if Richard wasn’t as flighty as Oscar believed, that didn’t mean he was likely to fall in love with an old rancher and build a life in the middle of Wyoming.
The reality was Richard would be taking off in a few weeks. That was a given. So there was no reason to spoil our time together by wishing it was anything more. Wasn’t it enough that Richard showed genuine interest in the ranch right now and that I was able to share it with him? I decided that it was. That it had to be.
When we finally came to the campsite at Justice Ridge, the sun was sliding down behind the distant Wind River Mountains, leaving the air to rapidly cool in its wake.
“Legs okay?” I asked, standing in the stirrup and pulling my knee over the saddle to hop down so I could help him.
“Not at all. They are very much not okay,” he admitted with a laugh. Sure enough, as soon as he was on the ground, his legs wobbled like jelly, and his hand tightened around mine. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. You’re not used to spending so much time in the saddle. Go sit on that log, and let me handle the tack.”
“No, no, I can do it,” he protested.
I cupped a hand around his cheek, trying to think of a way he could sit and rest without feeling like he was letting me down. “You’re going to need some strength in those legs for later.”
He swallowed thickly at the reminder of what I’d promised him earlier in the day. “Then yes, by all means, you are permitted to wait on me hand and foot before taking full advantage of me after dinner.”
I laughed as I quickly untacked the horses and gathered some wood before making a fire. The light was fading fast, but the golden glow from the flames warmed Richard’s skin to a deep honey color.
As we ate, we talked easily and companionably, just like we had all day out on the ranch. Anyone might have mistaken us for a pair of lifelong friends… if the air between us hadn’t been so thick with promise. Every so often, I caught his eye, and we exchanged a heated glance that went far beyond friendly. And each time he blushed and turned away, the coil of anticipation in my gut twisted just a little tighter.
Once the horses were tended to, camp was set up, and dinner was over, we sat on a fallen log by the dwindling fire, staring at each other, the glow of the flames dull compared to the furnace of our gazes. Richard was uncharacteristically quiet though, and I realized he might actually be nervous.