Honeyed and Muddied (Raven Peak Ranch #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

INDY

There’s a lot to be said about horses and cattle, but bees are the real unsung heroes of ranch life.

They kept us afloat for the last year, their busy nature making us enough funds to skimp by.

The bees have taught me a lot, not just about patience and consistency, but also love and cooperation.

The weather’s pretty mild today considering we’re almost into summer, so the protective suit I’ve got on while harvesting isn’t making me sweat.

Chub rub, who?

I’ve been out here for hours, and I could spend even more time with them. Alas the Turner Dude Ranch waits for no one.

Summer camp starts in two weeks, which means I’ve got a shit-ton to do ‘round here before it’s ready to receive campers.

“Be good, little friends.” Running my hand down the closest hive box, I smile at the little fading doodles Lucy and I did one summer when we were younger.

My buzzing bees work happily while I grab my smoker and bucket.

Walking to my shed–which I lovingly named The Honey Hut–I smile.

It’s the place where I process the honey from the fresh combs.

Placing my suit, smoker, and bucket inside the hut, I lock it up and walk back toward the house. There won’t be any honey until later in the summer, but I like to be prepared, just in case.

I’ve lived in Goldpsur Ridge my whole life, and though I did do a stint in North Carolina for college, I always find myself back here.

The tall oak tree that sits just outside of the driveway, with a swing that’s seen better days, stands tall and lush with green. Beyond that, my home with Mama and Papa sits proudly on a hill. Its yellow exterior is bright, along with the robin’s egg blue shutters Mama repainted not long ago.

Lucy and Reese put together a fundraising carnival last year at his ranch, R&M Training.

It did so well we were able to upgrade the summer camp ground, along with the stables, and even do some much needed repairs to the house.

We’re finally out of debt, and my breath catches in my throat when I think about all the good that’s come out of that one act of kindness.

It was spectacular, until Lucy was kidnapped.

That’s a long story though.

Lucy’s been my bestie since kindergarten, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s one of a kind, unapologetically, even though I love to give her shit. Especially since she got together with Reese.

Walking up the porch steps, the front door’s open, as usual. The screen door serves as a barrier to the bugs and critters that come out this time of year, and since it no longer squeaks announcing someone’s arrival, I holler into the house. I don’t want to startle my parents.

“Ma!”

“In the kitchen,” she responds. I should have known, she likes to use the new dehydrator to make healthy snacks for the campers. She starts early every year, always has. “Will you pull that tray over here?”

She nods over her shoulder toward the opposite side of the kitchen. Grabbing the tray, I bring it over and hop up onto the counter. My legs hitch at my ankles and I snag a piece of the strawberry leather she’s made.

Swatting me she laughs, “You’re getting too old for this furniture sittin’.”

I gasp, holding my hand over my chest, “But Mama, I thought I’d always be your baby.”

That earns me a pair of rolled green eyes and a hand on her hip. “Get down from there and go help your Dad with the horses.”

Swinging my legs and jumping off the counter, I smack a kiss to her cheek and murmur, “I love you,” before heading out. She laughs and returns to her task while I make my way toward the back door, the white ruffled curtain over the window swishing as I pull it closed.

The ranch is divided into two major parts, the summer camp, and the dude ranch.

They overlap sometimes, but for the most part, they’re two separate things.

The horses cost a lot of money in maintenance, but they also bring in money considering the campers who come here to spend their summer surrounded by nature.

The family stables are closest to the house, with eight stalls and a few runs covered in sand for training.

Our horses are pretty seasoned, we only have one newer mare, and she’s been a dream to train.

It helps that my horse, Echo, really likes her.

He whinnies anytime she passes his stall, and he lifts his head to his full height.

He’s such a ham.

Papa’s Friesian and Mama’s Appaloosa are running in the ring, so I make my way to Papa’s stall hoping to find him. As I guessed, Papa’s cleaning his stallion’s stall. Mucking out the pellets, pulling up the mats to wash, all to replace it with new shavings.

“Come to help your ol’ dad?” He chuckles, stopping and leaning against the manure fork as he wipes his forehead with the rag he keeps in his back pocket. His deeply tanned skin is wrinkled with age, but his eyes are sharp as the day he was born.

“Of course,” I smile, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the stall wall. “Have all the volunteers checked in with you for the summer yet?”

He chuckles, and stabs the pellets, lifting the manure into the wheelbarrow. Idle hands, and all. “All but two, they have time though.”

At my impatient huff, he nods to the stall across the way and I head over, shaking my head with a smile.

Gingersnap’s stall is fairly clean, Mama likes to keep it that way, so I simply replace the hay and feed in her bucket before refreshing the water.

It makes sense that their horses are so close, it’s like Gingersnap and Tonka are married too.

“You don’t have to worry about the camp so much, BeeBee.” The name he’s called me since I was little makes me cheese, every single time. “Children are far less complicated than adults.”

I scoff, and turn to look back at him with my brows raised. “Says who?”

“Says me, that’s who. What’s even got your worry lines deepening anyways? We’re doin’ alright.”

I sigh, “I’m not even sure it matters, but I’m always nervous about new batches of kids around the horses. Every year there’s always one who pushes too far.”

“The horses are strong, and wise,” he says, laying the manure fork aside and lifting the barrow. “The kiddos will be well versed in safety before we let them near the horses.”

Our horses are well trained, however, some of these campers have never seen a horse, much less ridden one. It makes me nervous putting them on horses, no matter how many times I’ve done it before.

Finishing out the family stables, Papa kisses the top of my head and hops on the buggy heading for the camp where the big stables are located.

We have two keepers, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, a couple that’s been here since before I could walk.

They help us take care of the ranch and stay in the main cabin closest to the camp.

They’re like my extra set of parents, but they let me get away with way more than Mama and Papa ever did.

I need to check campers reservations, and do one last sweep of the cabins to make sure everything’s clean and ready to be stocked.

We provide the essentials, along with a welcome packet with rules and activities they can expect, though I doubt the kids will read them.

Either way, Mama makes every guest feel at home.

Grabbing Echo’s saddle pad, saddle, and bridle, I head for his stall. Whistling as I get closer to him, he pops his head out and huffs. “Sorry bud, fresh outta apples.”

He nods, flinging his head as if throwing a tantrum.

“Don’t be dramatic,” I giggle, holding out a piece of the strawberry leather I swiped from Mama. “I got somethin’ better.”

He stomps one hoof, as if to tell me how not funny that was. Rolling my eyes, I unlock his stall and step in, throwing the tack over the ledge where his head was. Holding my palm out, fingers pointed toward his chest, his lips tickle my hands as he eats up the leather.

It’s all natural ingredients, Mama wouldn’t offer campers anything less, so it’s completely safe for him. Most everything we eat comes from the farm. Our chickens produce so many eggs sometimes I have to take a whole bunch down to Lucy at the diner.

Before Lucy and Reese saved our farm, we had to sell off some of our cattle just to cover the mortgage. My parents have worked so hard, with only a few years left on the house, I couldn’t let the bank take it away.

Papa was furious, he didn’t speak to me for weeks after the butcher showed up with trailers ready to cart away our best cattle. Mama cried a lot during those weeks, he wouldn’t speak to her either. It was the one thing I thought just might tear my parents apart.

Money fucking sucks.

Shaking off those thoughts, Echo nudges my shoulder with his nose. “Alright,” I mock a sigh. “Let’s go, bud.”