Page 12 of The Wrangler and the Tenderfoot

“You ever work in the Hill Country before?”

“First time. They said it’d be easy. Turned out, nothing about this place is easy.”

She said it with a laugh, but I could see the truth behind it. There was a hardness to her, but not the brittleness that breaks a person. It was the smooth, layered resistance of something that had been tested too many times to fail.

The sun was up now, and the world had changed color. Heat shimmered on the ridges, and the bugs started their morning riot in the grass. We crossed the rise, followed the fence to where it kinked north, then cut down toward the draw that separated Maddox from Coleman.

Every so often she’d stop to take a GPS reading or snap a photo, her phone crashing enough times that she eventually switched to a battered field journal.

“You ever wish you’d done something easier for a living?” She asked, then patted her horse’s neck. “You’re pretty but you’re not easy, are you, Jupiter?”

“No. I like the work. Sure wish it paid more.”

She grinned, just a flash of teeth. “That’s the story of the world, isn’t it?”

At the draw, I stopped and unscrewed the cap from my thermos, poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Jennie. She accepted it with a grateful nod, sipped, and immediately made a face.

“That is... robust,” she said, choking a little.

“Buck’s blend. He says it’s for men, but I’ve seen Sloane and Ash drink it and live. Even Tess has managed to get some down.”

She snorted, wiped her mouth. “I don’t know who they are, but I’ll stick to science. Safer that way.” She looked at me, then out at the land, and I could feel the edge soften. “I think I mentioned the other day, my grandfather used to tell stories,” she said. “He lived in East Texas, spent his whole life hunting, fishing, and never left the state except to get drafted. He’d say, ‘Watch out for the things that move after dark. They’re not always what you think.’ Used to scare the hell out of me.”

“Did you believe him?”

She smiled, sad this time. “For longer than I’ll admit. Thought the woods were full of all kinds of monsters.”

“They are,” I said. “Just depends on your definition.”

She sipped, then said, “He had this theory that the world was once full of people who could change shape, shapeshifters, skinwalkers, whatever you want to call them. Said they lived among us, that the only way to spot one was to catch them in a lie or watch the way they watched you.”

There was far too much truth to that. “What changed your mind?” I asked.

“I grew up. Learned that most things have a practical explanation.” She shrugged, a graceful motion, but her eyes were on the distance, following the line of the fence.

“Most things,” I echoed, and she nodded.

We finished the coffee and remounted. This time, she let Jupiter walk a little closer, maybe because the ground was rough, maybe because she wanted to see how I’d handle it. At the break in the fence, where the gate swung into Coleman territory, she reined in and looked at me. “You think there’s anything to those old stories?”

I considered lying. Instead, I said, “I think the world is full of things we don’t talk about. But I don’t believe in monsters.”

She smiled, and it was genuine. “That’s almost disappointing.”

“Most truths are.”

We rode on, side by side, and the horses found a shared rhythm. The heat was up now, and the ground crackled with every step, the dry grass desperate for the next storm.

At the next fence crossing, she dismounted to inspect a low spot where the wire had buckled. She squatted, touched the ground, and I saw the way she read the space, clocking angles, measuring distances, scanning for threats before she even knew it. Not a geologist, not even a little. She looked up and caught me staring. “What?”

I shook my head. “You move like someone who’s had training.”

She hesitated, then stood, brushing her hands. “I did a semester in Army ROTC,” she said. “Didn’t take.”

Bullshit. I didn’t call her on it. “Maybe it stuck more than you think.”

She grinned, but her eyes didn’t lose their edge. “You’re always this suspicious of visitors?”

I just chuckled.