“See you, Jerry,” Logan called toward the back of the store. “We’re taking off.”
We hopped in Logan’s truck and headed for Triple M.
The truck bounced along the road. Warm air flowed through the open windows, and I stuck my hand out into the sunlight.
“Is what we’re doing really dangerous or really, really dangerous?” I asked Logan.
“It’s only dangerous if you’re not prepared. If a storm comes, we’ve got a shelter. If a mountain lion bothers us, I’ve got a gun. We’re prepared. But that doesn’t mean you have to do this.” He looked at me for a second before directing his eyes back to the road. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“I’m doing it,” I said. I was annoyed when my voice wobbled. He wasn’t going to talk me out of it. “I just want to know what to expect.”
“Well,” he said, flipping on his blinker as we turned into Triple M’s driveway. “We’re going to take the horses and guide the cattle on flat land for about five miles. Then, we’ll start going up the mountain and go about a fourth of the way up before we hit flat land where the cattle will stay. They’ll have water from the creek and shelter from trees. That means I don’t check on them during the summer and fall. I just come up to get them right before winter.”
“Do any ever die?” I asked.
He nodded. “Calves and sick cows are vulnerable to being picked off by coyotes and mountain lions. The herd does its best to protect its own, but that’s really not enough.”
“That’s sad.” I frowned and looked ahead to the barn.
“I know. But it’s a circle of life kind of thing. That’s just how it goes around here,” Logan said.
“Speaking of sad, my dad was complaining about the horses again.”
Logan took a deep breath. “There’s nothing I can do for them yet. No one from the BLM has called me back. I’m just going to have to show up at their office once we get back.”
He pulled the truck along the side of the barn that was hidden from the house and we got out. Logan pulled open the barn’s silver door and I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior light. “Ever saddled a horse before?” he asked.
“A couple of times,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. I held back a grin. “I don’t know if I remember everything.”
“Well, let me saddle up LG and then I’ll help you with your mare,” he said as he patted a horse’s black cheek. “You can pet her until I’m ready, if you want. Her name’s Mazy.”
I giggled under my breath as Logan walked a few stalls down to saddle his horse. I made sure he was gone before I opened a trunk in front of Mazy’s stall and found everything I needed.
I started to tack up the small black-and-white appaloosa. She was sweet and batted long lashes at me while I slipped off her halter.
I looked around—the barn was huge, with tractors housed in the back and box stalls of various sizes lining the wall. Mazy easily took the bit and I fastened the bridle onto her head. The cotton saddle pad fit over her black back and with a grunt, I heaved the Western saddle on. After a quick check of the cinch and stirrup length, I took her reins in my hand and led her out of the stall.
We found Logan, and I hung over the half door. “Damn,” I said with a serious tone. “How do you tack up a horse?”
“It’s not hard,” he said, not looking up from the saddle. LG stood quietly while Logan tightened the girth. “But—hey!” His mouth dropped as he glanced up at me and saw a fully ready Mazy standing behind me.
I smirked. “Looks like the greenhorn beat the cowboy.”
Logan laughed and tipped his hat to me. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Belize,” I said. “A lot of people rode horses on the beach or from work to home, so I picked it up.”
“There’s more about you than I know, isn’t there?” Logan asked, cocking his head.
“Definitely,” I said. “Now, do you need help?”
Logan mock rolled his eyes. “I’m going to watch out for you from now on. Who knows what else you can do that you haven’t told me about.”
I stepped inside the stall and pressed my lips against his. “There are lots of things,” I murmured. “Wait and see.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Most men are like a barbed-wire fence—they have their good points.
I held LG and Mazy by the barn’s corner while Logan ran inside the house and told his dad he was going. “I’ll tell him I found a guy from school to go with me,” Logan said before he headed inside.
I petted Mazy’s shoulder and stood in the rare silence at Triple M. We were really doing this. In a few hours, we would be halfway up a mountain with no cell signal, no adults, and no fast way to get down.
“You guys ready to go soon?” I asked the horses. They blinked at me, and LG rubbed his head on my arm.
Logan stepped out of the house, shut the screen door carefully, and jogged over to me. “Let’s go!” he said, taking LG’s reins and vaulting into the saddle. I copied him and we kicked the horses into a trot, our camping gear rattling in the saddle packs behind us.
“What first?” I said. I easily neck-reined Mazy with one hand and looked at Logan for guidance.
“We’ll go to the pasture, gather up the cattle, and herd them down the driveway. Once they’re all together, we’ll take them across the road into the open field.”
Logan turned his horse toward the pasture and I followed. The lead dogs, Jane and Lara, trotted along quietly beside us. Three other less experienced dogs were behind us. I repeated Logan’s words in my head. I didn’t want to do something wrong and let the cattle escape.
He opened the wooden gate and we rode through.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“I’m going to start herding them toward the gate. Stay beside the entrance and make sure they go out. Mazy knows what to do. She’s an old pro, so let her do her work,” Logan said. He smiled at me. “You’re going to do great.”
“I hope so,” I said. I patted Mazy’s neck. “I trust you, girl.”
Logan squeezed LG into a fast lope and my breath caught at the way the horse ducked and cut in front of the cattle and herded them into an almost perfect line of black, white, and brown that headed for me and the gate.
“Jane! Here!” Logan gave a sharp whistle and pointed at the cattle. The dog zigged and zagged into the herd and within seconds, she had them moving. She growled at a few stubborn cows and they quickly joined the ranks of the cattle walking in line. Lara, needing no directions of her own, danced around the cattle with more speed than Jane, if that was even possible. Logan pulled up LG and watched Jane and Lara keep the cattle moving.
I grinned and called to Logan, “You don’t need me and you know it!”
“Aw, don’t say that!” His smile could have knocked me off Mazy’s back.
“It’s true,” I said, shifting my weight in the saddle. “You could have done this by yourself. Jane and Lara are all the help you need.”
Logan eased his horse next to me and left the dogs to their work. I could barely pull my eyes away from the dogs and cattle long enough to look at Logan.
“The dogs are good,” he said, “but they won’t keep me as warm as you.”
I gave him a sideways glance. “Excuse me?”
“We have to share a tent,” he said. I watched him—seeing him try to look serious but failing. “I only have one.”
“One tent? Please.” I rolled my eyes. “You camp all the time, so I doubt you only have one tent.”
Logan nodded. “You got me. We probably have more tents, but I could only find one. I . . .” He paused and sighed. “I could sleep outside.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to think. “Nah, I’d rather you slept with me. In case a bear shows up or something.”
I grinned and guided Mazy closer to him. We leaned over the space between us and tried to kiss, but Mazy decided it was time for a bite of grass and she yanked me away from Logan just as our lips touched. When I pulled up her head, she stra
ined against the reins and arched her neck toward a clump of clover.
“Let’s go,” Logan said. He trotted his horse through the gate and I followed. “I’m going to be the point and you can be the drag.”
“Huh? I don’t speak cowboy!”
“Sorry. I’ll be riding up front and you ride in the back and watch for stragglers.”
“Okay,” I said, slowing Mazy and letting the cattle follow Logan down the driveway. They fell into a quiet rhythm, plodding along as if they knew where they were headed, and Logan led them across the road and into the open field across from Triple M.
For three hours, I rode along at the back of the herd, listening to the cattle’s hooves rustling in the tall grass and the occasional moo of protest when Jane or Lara got too close. Logan rode back to check on me every so often but he had to stay in the front to lead. I sighed with relief when Logan turned and headed toward me. The sun was beating down on us and sweat trickled under my cowboy hat. The temperature was probably in the low eighties, but it felt so much warmer.
“Hungry?” he asked. “Want to stop for lunch?”
“I’m starving.”
“Okay, let’s dismount by those trees and let the cattle graze.”
Logan cantered up to a clump of scraggly fir trees and whistled at Jane and Lara. The dogs circled around the cattle and lumped them into a rough circle. The cattle began chewing up clumps of grass and a couple of them trickled a few yards away to a tiny stream.
I dismounted from Mazy’s back and started unclipping the packs of food Logan had attached to my saddle.
Logan brought over two bottles of water and a blanket. He spread the checkered black-and-red blanket in the grass and I put the bags on the blanket. The trees shaded us as we sat down next to each other, legs stretched in front of us. I took off my hat and Logan removed his. Sweat darkened his hair to a golden amber shade.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Better than I thought.” I pulled out two wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I dug into mine. “I was worried that I would be more of a hindrance than help.” I’d finished half my sandwich before Logan opened his. I gulped my bottle of water and poured some into my hand to splash on my face.
“You’re not slowing us down at all. You’ve been great.” Logan reached over and touched my cheek. “It’s going to get a little harder soon. We will start going uphill, so you’re going to be leaning forward.”
“Okay,” I said. “I can do it.”
“I have no doubt.” Logan leaned over and kissed me. His lips were soft on mine. I put a hand on his neck and kissed him deeper.
One of the horses let out a neigh that echoed, and I jumped, almost biting Logan’s lip.
“Sorry! So sorry!” I said. I looked at the horses and Mazy was swishing her tail and her head was high. “Mazy scared me!”
“Bad girl,” Logan called to Mazy. “Very bad!”
I laughed. “Poor Mazy,” I said, giggling.
Logan looked over at me, watching me with soft eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
I smiled, looking down. “Thank you.” I looked back up at him. “How far are we going tonight?” I asked. I finished my sandwich and opened a box of raisins.
“We should be able to get about half an hour away from the grazing ground. We’ll ride until just before sunset and then we’ll set up camp. If you’re okay, it would be a good idea to keep going now.”
“Sure,” I said.
Logan put his hand on my back and rubbed slowly up and down. I looked over the ankle-high grass at the cattle grazing calmly. Logan had removed the bridles from the horses, trusting them not to wander off, and they were resting with one hoof cocked a few yards away. Blackheart Mountain looked huge from this angle.
“Relax for five more minutes with me?” I asked.
“Okay,” he said, smiling.
Easing myself onto my back, I looked at the puffy clouds filling the blue sky. The shade had helped me cool down, but my jeans clung to my thighs. Too bad you couldn’t ride in shorts. I patted the blanket with my hand and Logan flopped onto his back beside me.
“Pretty perfect, huh?” he asked.
“Almost,” I said, raising myself up on one elbow and leaning over to look in his face. “We got interrupted before.”
“Yes, we did.”
He smiled and reached out to touch my hand. I leaned over him. We kissed until I was giddy. Resting on our sides, we looked at each other. I closed my eyes and relaxed in the shade.
While Logan had his eyes shut, I looked over at him. A wave of sadness hit—surprising me. It occurred to me that no matter how little thought I had given toward leaving Lost Springs, it was inevitably going to happen. How was I ever going to leave Logan? Stop, I told myself. Be here. Now. I took a deep breath and refocused my mind. After a few minutes, I let Logan pull me to my feet and we got ready to hit the trail again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Horses are partners, not pets.
With a grateful sigh, I dismounted from Mazy and slipped off her bridle. “You’re so good,” I said to her. She leaned into my pat and huffed. I put a halter and lead line on her and tied her to a tree branch while Logan did the same to LG.
“You okay with this spot for tonight?” Logan asked, releasing the small pot and the bags of food from his saddle.
“This is great!” I said, looking around.
We’d reached our campsite for the night. We were within closing distance of the grazing ground, but it would be dark in a few hours and Logan didn’t want to get stuck somewhere. He was afraid, too, that the horses would step in a pothole. The climb to get here had been exhausting. I hugged Mazy and then LG. They had been rock stars.
After Logan and I had left our lunch spot, the land started to go up an incline and we had to lean forward the entire ride. I’d concentrated on the fact that we were going uphill and spent most of the time grasping the saddle horn or Mazy’s mane. My stomach muscles were already sore from clenching and sitting in that odd position. Logan, Jane, and Lara had never faltered and they had kept the cattle moving easily up the gradual slant.
Logan signaled the dogs to round the cattle into a circle.
“Want to gather firewood or get the fishing gear?” he called to me.
“Firewood is fine,” I said.
I started scanning the ground for dry twigs and small logs. We were in a flat part of the mountain with a rushing creek a few yards away. Logan had said the clearing was a frequent stop for other ranchers making this trek. There was a circle of rocks in the center of the clearing with a charred spot in the middle. Large, looming trees surrounded us and the only way up the mountain was a narrow path on the far side of the campground. I quickly gathered an armload of kindling and dumped it in the campfire circle.
Logan brought two buckets of water from the creek and set them near the fire pit, just in case.
“You up for fishing?” he asked as he untangled fishing wire and put together two crude poles from his bag. “It’s okay if you need to rest.”
“Totally up for it,” I said, taking a pole and finishing threading the line. “What kind of fish are in the creek?”
Logan put lures on our hooks and we made our way to the river. “Mostly trout and a few cutthroats,” he said. “They have a red slash on their throat. Ever fished before?”
I took a careful stance on the rocky riverbed and peered into the clear water.
“I’ve fished,” I said. “Ocean fishing with my parents down by the Florida Keys. We rented a boat to catch swordfish and after eight hours, my dad finally caught one.” I tossed my line into the water and huffed. “I was so annoyed that it wasn’t on my line!”
“I bet,” Logan said. “I’ve never even been to the ocean before.” He cast his line and trolled it slowly through the water.
I kept my attention on my line as the bobber started to wiggle. “If you stare at the horizon long enough, you think you’re
looking at the end of the world.”
“It sounds great,” he said, “and you’ve got a bite!”
My bobber disappeared under the water and I gave my pole a couple of tugs and began reeling in my line.
“First fish!” I said, catching Logan’s eye.
“Damn.” He shook his head. “You beat me saddling the horses this morning and now this.” He jiggled his line hopefully, but nothing was attached.
“Ha,” I said, reeling the fish out of the water and holding it up for Logan to see. “What is it?”
“That’s a brook trout,” Logan said, running his finger along the fish’s red stomach. The fish wriggled its dark gray body, which was spotted with bluish dots. “Good eating.”
I removed the hook from the fish’s mouth and tossed it in the water bucket Logan placed beside me.
“Your turn now,” I said to Logan. “You better get the next one.”
A tiny bead of sweat popped against Logan’s forehead and he reeled in his line and tossed it back in the water. “Now I’m embarrassed,” he said.
“Sorry.” I rubbed his shoulder. “Girl of all trades, I guess.”
Logan’s bobber sank beneath the water and he reeled furiously on his line. “My manhood rests on this fish,” he said. He walked so close to the creek’s edge, he almost stepped into the water. He didn’t take his gaze from the bobber. With a tug, he lifted the fish out of the water and pumped his fist in the air.
“Nice one,” I said, pulling the line over so I could look at the fish. “You definitely got the cooler one.” I pointed to the red slash on the fish’s neck. Logan’s pink-and-yellow cutthroat was twice the size of my trout.
“That’s plenty to eat,” Logan said. “I’ve got soup and chocolate chip cookies, too.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We headed for the campsite and Logan started the fire. While he cleaned the fish, I cooked a can of vegetable soup on the fire. Logan tossed the fish in a pan and within minutes, they were sizzled to golden-brown perfection.
In silence, we hungrily dug into our food. We were eating fresh fish on a mountain. No cell phones, no street noise, no parents, and no hiding our being together. It was just us and I loved it.
Wild Hearts Page 17
