Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Since I didn’t have to drive, I pulled my hat down over my eyes and took a nap. I woke up when we stopped an hour later, surprised when I looked out the window at the large transport van a few people were climbing into.
“The hell is going on?” I asked Pierce.
“Well, since not all the guests were already out there at McNamara’s ranch, Rand volunteered to pick ’em up along the way and have us all caravan together,” he told me cheerfully. “Gonna be three big fancy vans in all.”
This just got better and better. “So we’re makin’ a few stops?”
He snickered. “We are makin’ a helluva lot more’n a few.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groaned.
“This has clusterfuck written all over it,” Chase said, rolling his eyes.
“Here’s hopin’ it’ll still even be light out when we get there,” Tom grumbled from the passenger seat. He didn’t sound any happier than I did.
“I dunno,” Pierce said, still grinning. “It’s an awful lotta people to fetch.”
“That’s why we’re startin’ on Wednesday instead of Thursday,” Chase informed us. “It’s because we got all these regular folks along on the drive.”
“Yeah, but they’re just in wagons or something. They’re not riding horses,” I said.
No one said a word.
“Right?”
All three men turned to look at me.
“No,” I whined, and I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. “No, no, no.”
“Oh yes,” Chase replied irritably. “People are gonna be fallin’ off horses, and we’ll be stoppin’ every five minutes, and…shit. We’ll be lucky to get home by next Sunday.”
I really needed to get better about asking questions before I committed myself to things. I’d have to write myself a note for next time.
We finally got lunch many hours later, stopping at another ranch—the Lone Pine, said the sign that curved over the entrance. We took a right off the paved drive instead of following it up to the main house, and ended up in a shaded area where everyone got out. What was nice was that a couple of trucks showed up, and there were boxed lunches for all of us. Rand greeted his neighbor—the Red Diamond covered a lot of area on the map, so it wasn’t a surprise that it took hours of driving to hit the boundary of the property—and I learned that we were guests of Mr. Lawrence Patterson, owner of the Lone Pine. He had even gone so far as to rent five portable toilets for our group, which I thought was more than generous. I was guessing that having Rand Holloway on his land was a big deal.
The second we stopped, I got out and went around the back of the gooseneck four-horse horse trailer to spring my girl.
“No, Glenn,” Mac barked at me, “we’re not taking the horses out here. We’re—”
“Are you kidding? Mac, they need to get out. This has already taken two hours longer than it should’ve, and they’re gonna get antsy.”
He groaned but nodded because there was no argument to be made. I was right, he was wrong. Horses needed to move, not just stand.
Opening the door, I ordered Juju to wait while I pulled down the ramp. Since she’d been the last one loaded and I hadn’t tied her, instead of listening, she walked over as soon as she saw me, stuck her muzzle in my face, and checked me over, my eyes, my nose, and my chin. Stepping back because I didn’t want to be in mid-pull on the ramp and have her leap on it—which she’d done in the past and nearly yanked my shoulders out of the sockets—I waited while she jumped down like people always told me most horses wouldn’t or shouldn’t do.
Once she was beside me, I told her to stay there and got the ramp ready for the others. When that was done, I turned and pointed at the creek I could see maybe fifty yards to the left.
Nothing.
“Well? Go have a drink.”
She looked at me like I was nuts.
“You have to drink water or—”
She bumped me with her head, stomped her foot, and gave a loud whinny like she was so much more than annoyed.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, going into the trailer, grabbing one of the buckets hanging at the far end, away from where the horses were, and then stomping back out. I charged by her to the creek. Once there, I rinsed the bucket, even though it looked clean, and filled it, walking it back to her and banging it down so it sloshed water near her feet. Not on her, because heaven forbid I got her wet if she didn’t want to be. Apparently, though, from the lack of movement, she wasn’t happy with me.
I looked at her. She looked at me.
After long moments, I picked it up and put it back down gently so nothing spilled.