“Come on.” Seth nudged me. “Heifers are waiting.”
Saddling up in the barn, just the two of us, with the horses’ breath warm in the chill air and the scents of leather and critters in my nose felt like a dream. We didn’t talk, other than simple things like, “Use her saddle, we’ll fetch yours later,” and “Is your curry comb better than this one?” Seth gave me Ahwan and took Bumble, scratching the gelding’s neck through his furry bay coat. “His winter coat’s so damned thick, he looks rough.”
“He looks warm. Good for him.” I led Ahwan out the back door, adjusted the stirrups an inch shorter, and mounted up.
Beside me, Seth swung onto Bumble’s wide back and settled into the saddle. Every movement was so practiced, so easy. Even with his own winter beanie on his head, Seth was every inch the cowboy. He picked up his reins, but before he could nudge the gelding forward, I kneed Ahwan close enough to reach over and brush his lower lip with my gloved thumb.
“Look at you,” I murmured. “Jesus, how did I get so lucky?”
“That’s my line.” Seth eyed me back, the low winter sun turning his eyes a pure green. “What Davis said, about seeing Erin and knowing. I saw you that November day, and it was like touching an electric fence.”
“Oh, that’s flattering,” I teased.
“I mean, a jolt that doesn’t really hurt but sets you back in your tracks, vibrates from your skull to your boots. I’d been going through the motions, being the perfect cowhand, trustworthy, no surprises. You? You were a shock that woke me out of my rut. You made me want more.”
“You can have more. You can have everything.”
Seth laid his hand on my knee. “I already do. Right now.”
Kissing on horseback would be a bad idea, even with mounts as steady-natured as these two. So I didn’t lean in and try it. I just grinned at Seth, hoping what I felt was in my eyes, and said, “I do too. Now let’s go look at some pregnant ladies, right?”
Seth grinned back. “Right. First one to the pasture gate gets a blowjob.” He whooped and set Brumble leaping through the snow down the lane.
I didn’t mind being behind him, watching Seth’s back as he rode, but on the principle of the thing, I tightened my legs on Ahwan to chase them. Bumble was fast, but Ahwan was taller. We’d see who ended up on their knees, when this long, perfect day was done.
Epilogue – 11 years later
Seth
A blast of cold air followed Austin into our cabin. “Whoo-ee!” He slammed the door and shucked his jacket and boots. “It’s pretending to be January out there, instead of November. Almost wish we had some snow to make the chill worthwhile.”
“I don’t,” I noted from where I had my laptop open on the table. “Then we’d be stuck hauling hay.”
“True enough.” Austin washed his hands at the sink, then wandered over. “Whatcha doin’?”
I quickly switched tabs from“Good places for a short gay-friendly Christmas vacation”to“Dude ranch ideas.”The trip was supposed to be a surprise, if I could swing it. “Looking at things we might add to the dude experience.”
“You’re always working.” Austin bent and I tipped my face up for his kiss. “What now? Baby goats again?”
“I still think those would be a draw,” I insisted. “But I figured I’d see what other places are doing.” I checked the screen tosee what had come up, pretending interest. “See, here’s a place that’s doing a Christmas event.” I looked closer. “Five days, all-inclusive holiday fun that’s LGBTQ-friendly.” I guessed my other search had bled into this one.
“Not a bad idea.” Austin leaned on my shoulder looking at the website, his face close to mine. A little chill from outside still wafted off him, and I set a hand on his cheek to warm him. He kissed my palm, then stiffened. “Holy fuck.”
“What?”
“That dude ranch? It’s in my hometown. Dover’s Ridge. I remember the Circle-K. It was owned by old man Pascal. Total grump and tightwad. It was just a cattle spread then, no dudes. I wonder who bought the place.”
I clicked to the “about us” page. A set of photos dotted the write-up about the ranch but before I could start reading, Austin pointed at an image of a weatherbeaten cowboy holding a pretty black gelding’s head.
Austin’s finger trembled. “That’s Joe.”
“Your Joe? McNeil?” I looked closer. The cowboy was tall and lean, standing at ease, his attention fixed on his mount with one long-fingered hand splayed on the horse’s cheek. Joe appeared close to my age, early forties at most, which surprised me because I’d imagined him much older, a mentor to Austin. Joe must’ve been a young man himself when he sold his truck for a dollar to a kid in desperate need. Ordinary looks, nothing special I could see, but Jesus, I owed that man everything.
Austin spun away from me to stare out the window at the bare November trees. “Read the text.”
Peering closer, pretending I wasn’t starting to think about reading glasses at age forty-four, I read. “The Circle-K welcomes guests to an authentic Colorado cowboy experience—”
“The names,” Austin interrupted. “Who owns it?”
