One of the ranch hands—Mitch, I thought his name was—fell back beside me after about twenty minutes of riding.
“First time back in the saddle in a while, huh?” he asked, his voice friendly enough.
“That obvious?” I grimaced as my tailbone hit the saddle on a particularly rough patch.
He chuckled. “Your face is givin’ you away. Don’t worry, everyone’s ass hurts on day one. Even Cole’s.”
I doubted that. Cole seemed born to the saddle, his body moving in perfect harmony with his horse as they navigated the rocky terrain. I couldn’t help but admire the way he sat so effortlessly, the strength in his thighs as he guided his mount with barely perceptible movements. God, why was I looking at his thighs now?
“I’ll live,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. “How long till we reach the herd?”
“Few hours,” Mitch replied. “They’re up in the high meadow. Weather’s been good, so they’ve been stayin’ put. Makes our job easier. Roundin’ them up and gettin’ them movin’ is the hard part.”
I nodded, grateful for any break we could get. My body was already protesting, muscles I’d forgotten I had screaming with each step Penny took. The cold morning air bit at my cheeks, making my eyes water. I pulled my scarf higher, wishing I’d thought to bring thicker gloves.
As we climbed higher, the landscape opened up around us. Rolling hills gave way to steeper slopes dotted with pine and aspen. The aspens were golden now, their leaves trembling in the morning breeze. In another life, I might have stopped toappreciate the beauty, maybe even taken photos. Now all I could think about was how many more hours I’d be in this saddle.
Cole called a brief halt at a creek crossing an hour later, allowing the horses to drink. I dismounted awkwardly, my legs wobbling beneath me. Walking felt strange after being on horseback, like I’d forgotten how my feet worked. I led Penny to the water’s edge, watching as she dipped her muzzle into the clear, cold stream.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” came Cole’s voice from behind me.
I turned, surprised he was speaking to me at all after this morning’s debacle. He stood a few feet away, his own horse drinking beside him. His expression was unreadable, but at least he was looking at me now.
“Thanks, I think,” I replied cautiously.
He adjusted his hat, squinting up at the sky. “Storm’s coming in faster than the forecast said. Might need to push the pace if we want to get the herd moving before it hits.”
I followed his gaze to the western sky where dark clouds had gathered over the mountains. They could only mean one thing.Snow.
“Is it gonna be bad?” I asked, my gaze still fixed on those clouds.
“Could be,” Cole said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the clouds. “Hard to tell from here, but those are moving fast.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very out of my element. The prospect of being caught in a snowstorm on horseback while trying to herd cattle down a mountain wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to spend my day.
“I’m not really dressed for snow,” I admitted.
Cole’s gaze dropped to my clothing, assessing. “There’s extra gear in your saddlebags. Evelyn packed you a proper coat andsome waterproof gloves.” His lips twitched slightly. “She figured you wouldn’t know what you needed.”
A rush of gratitude for Evelyn washed over me. “She always did know best.”
“Still does,” Cole replied, then whistled sharply to the other hands. “Five minutes, then we ride hard. Storm’s pushing in.”
As the others hurried to finish watering their horses, Cole hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more. I braced myself, certain he was going to mention this morning’s embarrassing incident.
Instead, he just said, “Stay close to Mitch. He’ll help you if you get into trouble.”
I nodded, surprised by what almost seemed like concern. “I will.”
When we mounted up again, my muscles protested even more fiercely than before. The brief rest had only served to remind my body how unaccustomed it was to riding. But I gritted my teeth and followed the group as we set off at a faster pace, determined not to be the weak link.
The terrain grew steeper, the trail narrowing as we climbed higher into the mountains. Pine trees closed in on either side, their branches occasionally slapping against my legs as Penny navigated the path. The air grew thinner, making my breathing more labored, though the horses seemed unaffected.
“You hanging in there?” Mitch called back to me after we’d been riding for another hour.
“Barely,” I admitted, shifting in the saddle to try to relieve the ache in my tailbone. “How much farther?”
“We’re getting close,” he replied, pointing ahead to where the tree line began to thin. “High meadow’s just beyond that ridge.”
