Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
The Vincent Hunting & Fishing Tours ranch looked like something out of a Western movie in the pre-dawn darkness—weathered barns, split-rail fences, and horses moving restlessly in the corrals as if they sensed the coming adventure.
Lark’s stomach churned with a mixture of nerves and excitement as Tara’s truck crunched over the gravel drive.
“You sure you’ve got everything?” Tara asked for the third time, eyeing the two packs in the truck bed.
After Ty’s pointed comment about packing light, Lark had agonized over every item, finally settling on the bare essentials plus her camera equipment, plus some additional socks contributed by Tara, as suggested by Ty, not that she wanted to admit it.
“I’m sure.” Lark’s voice sounded steadier than she felt.
The diamond studs were gone, replaced by simple silver posts.
The diamond tennis bracelet was locked in Tara’s safe at the ranch.
All that remained of her old life was the thin gold chain around her neck—her grandmother’s locket, the one thing she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind.
The one woman who believed in her and her dreams and the key to her freedom.
Ty’s black pickup was already there, and he was working with who she presumed was Luke Vincent, moving around the horses with the quiet competence of a man who’d been doing this for decades.
Luke was approximately the same age as Ty, lean and moving with a quiet competence that probably put clients at ease.
Ty, on the other hand, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“You’re late,” he called out as Tara’s truck doors slammed shut. Never mind that it was barely five-thirty, and the sky was just beginning to lighten in the east. Caesar raced over to greet her, his tail wagging enthusiastically. At least someone was happy to see her.
“By three minutes,” Lark shot back, shouldering her pack. The weight of it—even pared down to essentials—reminded her that this was really happening.
“Three minutes can make the difference between good weather and bad weather in the mountains,” Ty said, not looking up from checking the cinch on a sturdy bay gelding. “Time moves differently out there.”
Luke caught Lark’s eye and gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, ignore him. “Morning, Lark. This is Ranger—he’ll be your mount. Gentle as a lamb but sure-footed as a mountain goat.”
The horse was beautiful, with intelligent dark eyes and a coat that gleamed even in the dim light.
Lark had ridden since childhood—one of the few privileges of her upbringing that might actually prove useful—but that had been at boarding school, English-style dressage and show jumping.
The western style saddle looked very different from what she was accustomed to.
“Ty’s riding Scout,” Luke continued, nodding toward a larger gray horse that was currently trying to steal hay from Ranger’s net. “They’ve been partners for about five years now. And Meadow will be your pack horse, solid and sturdy, and an alternate mount if necessary.”
“Great,” Lark muttered, watching Ty move around his horse with practiced efficiency. Everything about him radiated impatience, from the sharp movements of his hands to the way he kept glancing at the lightening sky.
“Lark.” Tara appeared at her elbow, voice low. “Remember what we talked about. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to spend a week with him.”
“No, but I did spend three months with West trying to drive me away from this place. Stubborn mountain men are kind of my specialty.” Tara squeezed her arm. “You’ve got this.”
“Mount up,” Ty called out, swinging into his saddle with fluid grace. “We’re burning daylight.”
“The sun isn’t even up yet,” Lark pointed out, but she accepted Luke’s boost into Ranger’s saddle. The familiar weight of reins in her hands was oddly comforting.
“It will be soon enough.” Ty wheeled Scout around to face the trail that wound up into the foothills. “We’ve got twelve miles to cover before we make camp, and that’s assuming we don’t waste time stopping every five minutes for selfies.”
Lark’s jaw tightened, but she bit back her response. She could do this. She would do this.
Luke handed her Ranger’s lead rope and a small radio. “Channel three if you need anything. I’ll be monitoring.” His eyes flicked to Ty. “Both of you.”
With Caesar trotting alongside, they set off into the growing dawn, leaving behind the safety and comfort of the ranch compound.
The trail wound upward almost immediately, switch backing through the steep incline of aspen and pine that whispered in the morning breeze.
Behind them, the lights of the valley floor grew smaller and more distant with each step.
For the first hour, Lark was too focused on staying in the saddle and following Ty’s rigid back to notice much of anything else.
Ranger was indeed sure-footed, picking his way carefully over steep rocky sections and narrow paths, but her legs were already starting to ache in ways she’d forgotten were possible.
Ty hadn’t said a word since they’d left Luke’s place.
But as the sun finally crested the mountains ahead of them, painting the landscape in shades of gold and pink, Lark began to see what she’d come here for.
The valley spread out below them like something from a dream—endless wilderness broken only by the silver thread of a distant river.
An eagle soared overhead, riding the thermals with effortless grace.
And then she saw them—a small herd of mule deer picking their way delicately through a meadow about a hundred yards off the trail. The dawn’s morning light caught on their coats, and one of the does lifted her head to watch the horses pass, alert but unafraid.
Lark sucked in a breath. This was it—the shot she’d been dreaming about. Wild animals in their natural habitat, backlit by the rising sun, completely at peace.
She pulled Ranger to a stop and reached for her camera.
“What are you doing?” Ty’s voice was sharp with irritation. He’d continued another twenty yards up the trail before realizing she wasn’t behind him.
“Working,” Lark said quietly, not wanting to spook the deer. She adjusted her telephoto lens, framing the shot. “This is why I’m here.”
“We don’t have time for this. We need to keep moving.”
“I’m the client,” she said without lowering her camera, “and my goal is to take pictures. This is what I’m paying for.”
She gave Ty a sideways glance and saw his face darken, but she ignored him. The deer were moving again, and the light was perfect. She fired off a series of shots, adjusting her angle to catch the way the morning mist clung to the meadow grass.
“Lark.” Ty’s voice held a warning note.
“Five more minutes. I don’t want to miss them,” she murmured, enveloped in her work.
One fawn had spotted something interesting and was investigating with the curiosity that made perfect nature photography.
The morning was utterly still except for the soft sound of the horses breathing and the distant call of a meadowlark.
This was what she’d come for. This moment when the wild world revealed itself without artifice or pretense, when something real and beautiful existed just for the sake of existing.
Behind her, she could hear Ty’s horse shifting restlessly, but she didn’t care. He could wait.
She was exactly where she belonged.
Ty checked his watch for the third time in five minutes, his jaw aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth, as Lark continued photographing what had to be the most ordinary mule deer in all of Montana.
They had a schedule to keep, terrain to cover before the afternoon thunderstorms rolled in, and she was treating this like some kind of nature documentary.
Scout shifted beneath him, picking up on his rider’s impatience, and Ty had to resist the urge to ride back down and physically drag her away from her precious photo session. The deer weren’t going anywhere—hell, they’d probably see fifty more herds before the week was out.
But then he actually looked at her.
Lark had gone completely still in her saddle, camera raised, and there was something different about her now.
The tension that had been radiating from her all morning—the way she’d held her shoulders too straight, the careful politeness in her voice—had melted away completely.
Her face was soft with concentration, lips slightly parted as she tracked the movement of the animals through her lens.
She was beautiful like this. Not the polished, expensive kind of beautiful he’d noticed at the ranch, but something deeper. Natural. Like she’d found exactly where she belonged and everything else had fallen away.
The morning light caught the gold in her hair where it had escaped from under her hat, and when one of the fawns did something that made her smile—a genuine smile, not the careful ones she’d been giving him—something loosened in his chest.
Fuck. This assignment was going to be more complicated than he’d thought.
“Let’s keep moving. We’re expecting storms today. Summer storms. I’d like to have camp sorted before they hit,” he growled, his voice rougher than intended.
Lark’s head snapped up, and for a moment he saw her as she’d been—open, joyful, completely absorbed in something she loved. Then her expression shuttered, jaw tightening as she lowered her camera.
“Of course,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “Heaven forbid we enjoy ourselves.”
But there was a fire in her eyes as she said it, a tone in her voice that made Ty want to push harder just to see more of it. He wanted her to fight him, wanted to see that spark of irritation that proved she wasn’t the delicate princess everyone probably thought she was.
Then she frowned as if his words just registered. “We’re not staying in the cabins?”
He suppressed the twinge of guilt at her question. “The cabins are further out from where you wanted to photograph. We’d spend more time riding to your sites and have less time for your pictures. The site I thought we’d use is better located for the animals you want to see.”
“So, where are we staying?”
“In a tent. Which is why we need to move. We have to set it up before the storms. Shake a leg.” He kicked the horse into a trot and headed up the trail.
After a long moment, she kicked Ranger into motion and followed him up the trail without another word.
They rode in silence for the better part of an hour, the trail winding higher into the mountains.
The air grew thinner, crisper, and Ty found himself hyperaware of Lark behind him—the soft sound of her breathing, the quiet encouragement she murmured to her horse when the terrain got tricky.
She was holding up better than he’d expected, he had to admit.
Finally, his curiosity got the better of him.
“Why the deer?” he asked without turning around, slowing Scout so she could draw even. “They’re common as dirt up here. You’ll see hundreds before we’re done.”
There was a long pause, and Ty thought maybe she wouldn’t answer. Then her voice came, thoughtful and unhurried.
“That’s exactly why,” she said. “Everyone wants to photograph the dramatic stuff—the bears, the wolves, the eagles. But there’s something beautiful about the everyday moments too.
The way that doe was teaching her fawn where to find the sweetest grass.
The way they all just... belonged there, you know?
Like they were part of the landscape itself. ”
Ty glanced back and found her looking out over the valley, her expression soft again.
“Most people look at deer and see dinner or pests getting into their gardens. But they’re survivors.
They’ve figured out how to live in harmony with everything around them—when to run, when to stay still, when to trust.”
“And what did you see in those deer?” he asked.
“Peace.” The word was quiet, almost lost in the sound of the horses’ hooves on the rocky trail. “They weren’t worried about what they were supposed to be doing or where they were supposed to be going. They were just... present. Living in the moment.”
Something in her voice made Ty rein in Scout and turn to look at her fully. “Is that what you’re looking for out here? Peace?”
Lark met his eyes, and for a moment the careful walls she’d built between them seemed to thin.
“Maybe. I’ve spent my whole life being told what I should want, what I should do, who I should be.
But when I’m behind that camera, when I’m watching something wild and beautiful just exist without apology.
..” She shrugged. “It’s the only time I feel like myself. ”
Ty stared at her, seeing her clearly for the first time. Not the spoiled rich girl he’d been expecting, not the burden her father had made her out to be, but a woman looking for something real in a world full of artificial expectations.
The realization hit him like a gut punch. She wasn’t here to play at being outdoorsy or to collect pretty pictures for her social media. She was here for the same reason he’d originally fallen in love with these mountains—because out here, pretense fell away and left only truth.
“Come on,” he said finally, his voice gentler than it had been all morning. “There’s a meadow about two miles ahead. Might be some elk if we’re lucky.”
The smile she gave him was small but genuine, and his carefully constructed distance wavered.
Yeah. This was going to be a problem.