“Aw, thanks, Quinnie. I’m not told that nearly often enough for my liking,” I say as I lift the heavy saddle onto Cash’s back.
“I was talking to the horse, Casanova.” She pats my cheek playfully and steps in front of me, bending over to reach the cinch.
I grunt, stepping back quickly so her ass doesn’t press against me. The last thing I need before getting in the saddle is a hard-on.
“You two ready yet?” I tear my gaze away from Quinn’s ass at the sound of Wes’ griping.
Guilt flickers through me, but I shrug it off quickly. I was just looking. No harm in appreciating the view.
I clear my throat. “Just about,” I say, rushing back to June to make sure I got her billet straps threaded and snug.
We ride out to the pasture where part of the breeding herd that has already calved grazes. I can feel Quinn’s excitement as soon as we get close enough to see the black dots on the horizon.
Luckily, it’s been a warm early spring, so we haven’t had to worry about calving in the cold. Now it’s time to move the cows that haven’t calved yet—cleaner pastures mean safer newborns. It’s extra work in the spring, shifting them more often, but worth it to keep them healthy.
“So, we’re moving them all to a new pasture?” Quinn asks, taking stock of the herd from atop Cash.
“Not all of them.” I shift in the saddle and gesture toward the grazing pairs. “The cow/calf pairs that were born here will stay put for now—at least until the calves are big enough to join the older pairs in the bigger pasture. We’re just moving the cows that haven’t calved yet.”
She nods. “Good. That should help prevent disease spreading to the newborns.”
“That’s the idea.” I click my tongue at June, easing her forward a few steps.
A slow grin pulls at my mouth as I glance over. “Think you can keep up with the boys, Quinnie?”
“I never had a problem keeping up with you two before, did I?” she shoots back, brow arched.
“Fair point," I say.
And before I can fire back with anything better, she nudges Cash into a gallop and takes off after Wes, leaving me and my smart mouth in the dust.
After a full day in the saddle and checking over all the new calves the best she could without getting trampled by the mamas, Quinn is hurting. Shewinces with every limping step, and her hand presses against her lower back.
Wes took off to shower and check on Pops right after we got back to the stable, leaving me and Quinn to untack the horses and muck out the stalls.
“Go sit down,” I order Quinn.
“No, I can help,” she insists, hissing through her teeth as she tries to lift the forty-pound saddle off June—and promptly drops it.
I shoot her a knowing look. “Is being stubborn required to be a Dawson? For fuck’s sake, woman. You’re saddle sore. It’s been ages since you’ve been in the saddle for a full day. Sit your ass down and let me do what Wes is payin’ me to do.”
She groans. “I’ll put June in her stall and let you get the saddle.”
I shake my head. “The stalls still need mucked out.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll muck out the stalls then.”
I heave a loud sigh. “Stubborn as mules, the lot of you.”
She makes a face that pulls a laugh from my chest.
“I saw that,” I tease.
“Good. I wanted you to see it,” she calls from the stable, shovel already in hand.
We fall into the rhythm of the work—me untacking the horses; her mucking out the stalls. She fills the water buckets; I throw down fresh hay.
In no time we have the horses back in their stalls, and we’ve both worked up a sweat. She wrinkles her nose as she wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.
