Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-one
Zara
For all her money, lavish lifestyle, and constant need for attention while she visited the ranch, Mrs. Keller was a damn good rider. It was my own brother slowing us down.
“It’s no wonder cowboys are bowlegged,” Zane whined as his horse meandered along the trail. “My ass is not cut out for a saddle.”
Mrs. Keller laughed airily. “That’s because it’s far too bony. Come visit me in Monterey. My chef will fatten you up.”
Zane scoffed. “My husband thinks my ass is just the right size, thank you very much.” Then he straightened his shoulders. “I won’t say no to a visit to Monterey, though. You can try to fatten me up, within reason, of course.”
I laughed. “Of course.”
When we arrived at a shaded area along the river, the three of us slid off our horses to give them a break.
The leaves of the trees whispered in the subtle breeze. The river moved with purpose beside us. The horses lowered their heads gratefully, reins loose, tails flicking at flies.
Zane groaned as his boots hit the ground. “Holy hell. Muscles I didn’t even know I had ache. If I ever agree to go horseback riding again, please slap me.”
Mrs. Keller arched a perfectly groomed brow. “I’d be honored, darling. Though I must warn you, I’m stronger than I look.”
He pressed a hand to his lower back. “A verbal slap will do fine.” Nostrils flaring, he took a deep breath. “God, what is that?”
“It’s called fresh air.” I pulled a small canvas bag from my saddle horn. “Very exclusive. We make it in Wyoming.”
Mrs. Keller accepted the bottle of water I handed her. “Darling, I grew up in Montana. I had fresh air before it was fashionable.”
Zane perked up at the sight of the wrapped sandwiches. “If that’s turkey, I take back every complaint I’ve made about this ranch.”
“It’s turkey,” I confirmed. “And I packed some of Phoebe’s cookies.”
He made grabby hands. “Now, please. I need them.”
We settled near the bank, boots in the grass. The horses shifted lazily behind us, content. The air smelled like sun-warmed earth and river water. It was one of those afternoons that felt suspended—no rush, no edges.
Mrs. Keller chewed thoughtfully. “I agree with your decision to make this your permanent home.”
“You do?” I asked, unsurprised she was aware of my plans and had an opinion.
“I do. I seem to recall saying you could do anything you wanted, and look at you now. You have a handsome beau, and you’re excellent at your job. Easy as pie once you got out of your own way, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe,” I hedged. “It was the getting out of my own way that was difficult. I’m really good at that.”
She flicked her manicured nails. “Aren’t we all?”
I leaned my head back on the trunk of the tree behind me and listened to Zane and Mrs. Keller banter, a smile curving my lips.
My brother could talk to a brick wall if that were his only option, and I was certain Mrs. Keller had never met a stranger, so their conversation well never ran dry.
She told him all about her house, the people who worked for her, and her wayward son George.
Zane shared stories about his patients at the hospital, the neighbor who kept putting their trash in his garbage can, and how he and Steven met and fell in love.
While my eyes were closed, the horses decided it was an excellent time to drift farther down the bank in search of better grass.
“Hey—nope,” I called, grabbing my reins and jogging after them.
By the time I’d gathered them back, one had managed to tangle a rein around a low branch. It wasn’t a big deal, but it had taken a few careful minutes to untwist the leather and calm a mildly offended gelding.
Mrs. Keller checked the sky. “What time is it?”
“Later than I meant for it to be,” I admitted.
The sun had shifted lower, the light turning richer, thicker. It would still be a comfortable ride back, but between the conversations and chasing down the horses, we’d lost more time than I’d intended.
“Mount up,” I said, brushing grass from my jeans. “Let’s get you back before the dinner bell rings.”
Zane made a show of bracing himself before climbing into the saddle again. Mrs. Keller swung up with effortless grace, and we turned the horses toward home.
The ride back was easy at first. The river curved away from us, replaced by open stretches of prairie and rolling hills rippling gold in the lowering sun. The breeze shifted cooler against my cheeks.
Halfway up a gentle rise, something caught my eye. At first, I thought it was heat distortion, but when we crested the hill, a thin ribbon of gray in the far distance rose straight into the sky before drifting sideways.
I slowed my horse without meaning to.
“What is it?” Mrs. Keller asked, following my line of sight.
“Probably nothing,” I said automatically. “There’s smoke. It isn’t thick, so I’m not too worried.”
But I didn’t look away.
Zane squinted. “Is that from the ranch?”
“No. That’s the opposite direction,” I said, relieved Zane didn’t have to find his own way back. Otherwise, he’d be lost for good.
I watched the smoke as we rode, curious about the cause. It was wildfire season, so seeing smoke wasn’t out of the realm of normal and didn’t spell danger. Not out here, anyway. The ranch sprawled over twenty or thirty thousand acres. Smoke could be miles away and still seem close.
It could be anything. Most likely, a small brush fire caused by the dry conditions.
Mrs. Keller’s voice lost some of its playfulness. “Should we be concerned?”
I kept my smile as bright and steady as I could. “If it were close, we’d smell it. And we’d hear about it over the radio.” I patted the walkie clipped to my saddle. It was as silent as it’d been most of our ride.
“We’ll head in at a quicker pace,” I said lightly. “Just in case.”
Zane made a sound, a mix between a scoff and a whimper. “You sound calm for someone who just said ‘just in case.’”
“That’s because I am calm.”
When we got back to the ranch, I’d check in with Cormac to find out what was going on, but I was certain they were on top of it. There was no use expending mental energy over something I couldn’t do anything about.
I nudged my mare forward. “Let’s keep moving.”
We’d barely gone fifty yards when Mrs. Keller’s gelding gave an odd little hop.
She adjusted easily in the saddle, but her hand dropped to her thigh. “Hmm.”
I turned in my seat. “What’s going on?”
Her brow furrowed beneath the brim of her hat. “My saddle moved.”
That pulled me to a stop.
Zane groaned. “Please tell me that’s a perfectly okay thing to happen.”
“It’s not,” I said, swinging down from my horse.
We were on a slope—not the ideal place to have tack issues. I went to Mrs. Keller’s side, one hand on the gelding’s shoulder.
“Lean forward just a bit,” I instructed.
She did without question.
The problem was obvious as soon as I checked the cinch. It wasn’t undone, just looser than it should’ve been. Between the horses wandering at the river and us remounting on uneven ground, it must’ve shifted.
“That’s on me,” I muttered.
Mrs. Keller waved a hand. “If we blamed ourselves for every minor inconvenience, we’d never leave the house. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy?”
Zane blinked down at us. “Speak for yourself. I enjoy my house.”
The leather creaked as I tightened the cinch another notch. The horse stomped in annoyance, but settled quickly when I rubbed his neck and cooed at him a little.
I stepped back to check the back cinch and frowned.
“Well, damn.”
“What?” Zane demanded immediately.
“The back cinch slipped.”
Mrs. Keller sighed softly. “Oh dear. We don’t want that.”
“If it swings too much, it can make them cranky,” I said.
“And we don’t want cranky,” Zane said solemnly.
“No, we don’t,” I agreed.
I crouched, readjusting the strap properly this time and tightening it enough to keep the saddle balanced. It wasn’t a difficult task, but it took time I really didn’t want to spend, considering we were already behind schedule.
When I stood, I brushed my hands off on my jeans. “Okay. Try shifting your weight.”
Mrs. Keller rolled her hips gently side to side. The saddle didn’t budge.
“It’s perfect,” she declared.
“Good,” I said, remounting. “Let’s head in.”
We rode on, the smoke still a faint smudge against the sky to our left. It hadn’t grown or changed, which was a good thing.
The delay, though small, had put the sun lower than I preferred. We’d get back before dark, but we’d be late, and Cormac would be watching the clock.
Behind us, the river disappeared from view as the ranch waited ahead.
And far off in the distance, that thin ribbon continued to rise into a perfectly calm sky.