And, yes, I’m well aware I’ll be the one pulling the tractor out of the creek.
But if it makes her leave so she’s notone more thingthat I have to take care of this winter?
I will happily pull her out of the creek.
All of Hell’s Bells knows this is a temporary thing for Maisey Spencer, until she gets over her divorce. There’s actually a pool going about if she’ll last through the winter.
Not because we don’t like outsiders. We’re a welcoming bunch.
But more because as far as any of us can tell, she has no plans, no clue, and we’ve all seen her show.
Maisey Spencer seems like a nice enough person. Never said a bad word about anyone on that show. I’ll give her that.
But a Wyoming-winter person? A ranch person? Acompetentperson?
I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she didn’t shut off the electricity or the water on a project she was working on that required shutting off the electricity or the water, and how many times she got zapped or sprayed because of it.
She doesnotbelong here, and I amnotup for being the person who saves her ass every time she can’t deal with a bear or a cow or her kid.
So maybe it’s good that she’s here. Once she realizes she’s bitten off more than she can chew, she’ll sell the ranch to the town, and everything can go back to normal.
“Looks like you got this cow under control, then.” I tip my hat to her. “Welcome to ranching, Mrs.Spencer.”
“Wait.” Maisey shakes her head, and that TV-show smile slips off her lips as I turn Parsnip to leave. “Are there other cows we should worry about? If we’re doing a funeral for one ...”
Probably not. If Kory had more jailbreaks, someone would’ve found them by now. “No idea. You’d have to ask Kory next door. He took in all of Tony’s cows. If anyone other than Gingersnap might’ve escaped, he’d be the one who knows.”
“Gingersnap? You know this cow? By name?”
“You know the cow?” Junie—no,June, she said—pops up in the window behind us, pulling earbuds out of her ears. “This specific cow? That’s really her name? You knew her?”
She’s practically her mother’s clone except for the dark-brown eyes and hair. Same round, white, freckled cheeks, same Cupid’s bow mouth, same pointy chin. “Yeah. Tony—your great-uncle—told me she wasborn here before I met him. Spent a lot of time with Gingersnap over the years.”
“So you could do her eulogy?” June asks.
Parsnip snorts. Probably because I jerk in my saddle at the request.
If Maisey had asked, I’d be snorting right along with my horse.
But a teenage kid completely out of her element, without friends nearby, who woke up on her first day at her new home tothis?
Fuck.
“Sure.”
Chapter 3
Maisey
I’m not dressed for a funeral.
But then, I can’t recall the last time I went to a funeral for an animal I didn’t know under the baking-hot noon sun with a cranky teenager and a surly high school teacher–slash–ranch hand who’s renting a building at the entrance to Uncle Tony’s land.
“Can you at least show some respect and cover your shoulders?” Junie mutters to me as she, Flint, and I make our way to the burial site, which is a lovely patch of dirt that will be in the shade once the sun drops below the trees along the creek bank that borders the western edge of the ranch’s property.
We’re about a football field’s length from the bunkhouse, which is as far as we can get from the rest of the buildings scattered about Uncle Tony’s fifty acres without having to dig up ground that’s as solid as concrete in order to get Gingersnap deep enough to prevent further investigation by the local wildlife.
“The cow’s not wearing clothing at all, so I’m totally appropriate,” I whisper back to Junie. “Also, shoulders are natural. Who’s telling you it’s your responsibility to cover them up? I need to have a talk with them.”
