“I’m good.”
She tilted her head. “You’re sure? I’m available if you need help getting up.”
Mrs. Keller pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, do let her help. I’d love to see that.”
My pride burned, hot and fierce. I might’ve worn suits most days and didn’t get out here as often as I would’ve liked, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten how to ride.
“I’ve got it,” I said, swinging into the saddle.
I landed cleanly, and Dusty gave a satisfied huff.
Zara grinned up at me, and I was right back in that bottle, getting rocked something fierce. “I guess you do. What do you think about taking up the rear? I don’t want to worry about those guys getting lost.”
“I can do that.”
“Thanks, Maccie.” She brushed against my leg as she passed. Whether it was on purpose, I didn’t know, but I felt it all the way to my gut.
“Well…” Mrs. Keller said brightly, “you’d make a marvelous daughter-in-law. My son—”
“No thanks,” Zara breezed, still smiling.
Mrs. Keller laughed. “Straight to the point. I like that. Don’t worry—your message is received.”
With everyone settled, Zara stepped up to her own horse. She checked the cinch one last time, swung up smoothly, and settled into the saddle like it was an extension of her body.
“All right,” she said, reins loose, posture easy. “Let’s go before someone changes their mind.”
She nudged her horse forward, dust rising in the sunlight as the line followed.
The trail narrowed as we left the open stretch near the barn, sage and scrub brushing close enough to our boots, the scentrose warm and sharp in the sun. Zara set an easy pace, everyone falling into it.
Even New Boots, who’d started out too stiff in the saddle, relaxed inch by inch as she called back quiet instructions. A reminder to loosen his grip. A suggestion to let his horse pick its way over the rocks instead of fighting it. The other guy had been asking questions every five minutes, but began to peter out, settling into the rhythm of his horse.
Not noticing how natural and self-assured she was at this was impossible. Like she’d been back when we were friends. Before everything changed.
Mrs. Keller rode near the front, chatting away, and Zara handled her with the same ease she did the horses. When Mrs. Keller worried aloud about a narrow pass, Zara talked her through it. When she complained about the sun, Zara pointed out a bend where cottonwoods threw long shadows and promised we’d stop to rest there.
I stayed at the back like she’d asked, keeping an eye on the line, but my attention drifted forward more often than it should have. It drifted to the loose set of her delicate shoulders and to the way she glanced back often enough to make sure everyone was still with her. How she laughed when one of the guys made a dumb, self-deprecating joke.
I couldn’t picture her going back to an office after this. This was what she was meant to be doing. When she was a kid, her plans had always revolved around moving to Wyoming and riding horses all day.
And mine had revolved around her.
Somewhere along the ride, I realized my shoulders had dropped, the tight knot between them unraveling without me noticing, and my constant mental checklist went quiet. For once, there was nothing to manage. Nothing to anticipate.
I just rode.
Zara finally called a short break near a scenic overlook, and everyone stopped without complaint.
Mrs. Keller sighed contentedly. “I could do this all day.”
Zara smiled. “Careful. That’s how they get you.”
“You’re lucky to live here.”
“Oh, this is temporary.” Zara gave her horse a pat. “I have to go back to reality at the end of the summer.”
Mrs. Keller clucked her tongue. “If I were young and unencumbered, I’d make this my reality. Unfortunately, I was burdened by motherhood and marriage at a young age, limiting my choices. George is a lovely boy, but he’d never last a minute outside the city. You, dear, can do anything you want.”
