Zane squinted. “Is that from the ranch?”
“No. That’s the opposite direction,” I said, relieved Zane didn’t have to find his own way back. Otherwise, he’d be lost for good.
I watched the smoke as we rode, curious about the cause. It was wildfire season, so seeing smoke wasn’t out of the realm of normal and didn’t spell danger. Not out here, anyway. The ranch sprawled over twenty or thirty thousand acres. Smoke could be miles away and still seem close.
It could be anything. Most likely, a small brush fire caused by the dry conditions.
Mrs. Keller’s voice lost some of its playfulness. “Should we be concerned?”
I kept my smile as bright and steady as I could. “If it were close, we’d smell it. And we’d hear about it over the radio.” I patted the walkie clipped to my saddle. It was as silent as it’d been most of our ride.
“We’ll head in at a quicker pace,” I said lightly. “Just in case.”
Zane made a sound, a mix between a scoff and a whimper. “You sound calm for someone who just said ‘just in case.’”
“That’s because Iamcalm.”
When we got back to the ranch, I’d check in with Cormac to find out what was going on, but I was certain they were on top of it. There was no use expending mental energy over something I couldn’t do anything about.
I nudged my mare forward. “Let’s keep moving.”
We’d barely gone fifty yards when Mrs. Keller’s gelding gave an odd little hop.
She adjusted easily in the saddle, but her hand dropped to her thigh. “Hmm.”
I turned in my seat. “What’s going on?”
Her brow furrowed beneath the brim of her hat. “My saddle moved.”
That pulled me to a stop.
Zane groaned. “Please tell me that’s a perfectly okay thing to happen.”
“It’s not,” I said, swinging down from my horse.
We were on a slope—not the ideal place to have tack issues. I went to Mrs. Keller’s side, one hand on the gelding’s shoulder.
“Lean forward just a bit,” I instructed.
She did without question.
The problem was obvious as soon as I checked the cinch. It wasn’t undone, just looser than it should’ve been. Between the horses wandering at the river and us remounting on uneven ground, it must’ve shifted.
“That’s on me,” I muttered.
Mrs. Keller waved a hand. “If we blamed ourselves for every minor inconvenience, we’d never leave the house. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy?”
Zane blinked down at us. “Speak for yourself. I enjoy my house.”
The leather creaked as I tightened the cinch another notch. The horse stomped in annoyance, but settled quickly when I rubbed his neck and cooed at him a little.
I stepped back to check the back cinch and frowned.
“Well, damn.”
“What?” Zane demanded immediately.
“The back cinch slipped.”
