Page 7 of Saddle Storm

He curses under his breath. “How bad?”

“I’ll find out tomorrow.”

He glances over. “I’ll go with you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m good, don’t need anybody holding my hand.”

“It wasn’t a question. I’m going with you. I may be pissed at you but I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “You going back to Hideaway Springs tonight?” Like me, Chase is the youngest of three from a small town outside of Denver, just a few towns over from Blue River.

“No. Staying at my apartment. I’ll head back once I know you’re all right.”

I don’t argue, since I know it’s useless. He’s not my best friend for nothing. And it looks like he’s letting me off easy for lying to him this past year.

“You on any meds right now?” he asks.

“No.”

“Got beer at your place?”

I frown. “I do.”

He smiles. “Then I’ll stick around for a bit. You know, chat.”

Spoke too soon.

2

I tighten my fingers around the reins and tug. “Easy,” I say, my tone firm. I rest my palm against her neck, settling deeper into the worn leather of Dream’s saddle.

She shifts under me until she calms herself. This one’s always eager to get out and stretch her legs. I pat her again. “Atta girl. We’ve got time.”

Well, that’s true for Dream, anyway. She’s got time to learn to ride with the big boys. Time to grow and discover how fast, free, and wild she can be.

Not all of us have that luxury. But I do love watching young horses discover their power.

It’s the only time I feel truly untethered from my responsibilities. You can’t rush a young horse. They pick up on that kind of tension. The stress. They don’t react well. They respond better to calm and confidence.

Things I’ve been slowly losing over the last few years. Well, since becoming a mother. After I had Max, life got hectic; every moment, every decision—every dollar—started to count.

The sun hovers low over the familiar hills of Blue River Ranch, painting the sky in pale pinks and golds as the land wakes. I suck in a long breath, and release. I like to start my day believing everything is the way it was meant to be. Max and I have a routine that works. He’s safe. He’s happy—for the most part. And he’s loved. Everything else is just details.

Somewhere near the barns, a feed truck roars to life. The smell of hay and damp earth drift from the tack room. And . . . as Dream and I move closer to the Saddle Room, Wilder and Dallas’s office, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my senses just as hard. It’s the hour I love most—before voices fill the air, before guest lessons, tourists, and chaos fire up my day like the fourth of July.

Please dear God let there be no engagement shoots today—or this week. Heck, can we just make that a spring thing?

It’s not that I don’t like weddings, or even couples who insist on proving their love to one another with photos. It’s that they always seem to upend the entire staff and disrupt schedules. And there’s nothing I hate more than entitled guests thinking they bought out the entire ranch for the day.

Oh dear. I need that coffee soon.

Dream snorts as I guide her toward the training ring. She’s young, all muscle and nerves, still learning that riders don’t mean fear. I keep the reins loose, communicating more with the shift of my weight than my hands. Patience builds trust faster than force ever could.

It’s what Carrie Thorne, Silas’s mother, always said when she taught me to ride. Right here on this ranch over sixteen years ago. I didn’t show up here a beginner by any means. I’ve been riding since I was a little girl. But apparently, back then I rode like a girl. Carrie taught me to ride “like a cowgirl.”

The ring’s gate creaks as I nudge it open with the toe of my boot. Dust stirs beneath Dream’s hooves as she steps inside. I flip back my braid, blonde strands coming loose. My muscles already ache from the hours I’ve put in this week, but that’s nothing new. Comforting, even. Ache meant work. Work meant money.

Even if it never seemed to be enough.