Chapter 2
Jo’s ranch is about fifteen minutes further down the highway from my house.
The entrance to her driveway is straight off the main road and much easier to spot than the gnome trail that leads to my house.
There’s a wrought iron gate with an overhead sign announcing your arrival at Rock Salt Ranch, and then another three miles on a narrow dirt road that winds up into the mesa before you arrive at the main house and the acres of ranch land that spills out beside it.
I park on the paved driveway, the cloud of dust following me up the road, announcing my arrival.
“Welcome weary traveler!” Jo calls from her seat on a swinging porch bench as I make my way towards her.
She raises a glass of what looks like chilled rosé at me, and my mouth instantly waters.
Gordy, their weathered Bluetick hound, creakily stands and waddles over to me.
I give his graying muzzle a scratch as I take my seat next to Jo and graciously accept her proffered wine glass.
“Andy around?” I ask, taking a generous sip of wine. Unless Andy is out of town on ranch business, he’s usually glued to her side.
“He’s inside, starting dinner. I heard screams coming from the kitchen just before you got here, so it’s best if we stay outside for a while.”
“I think the last time Andy cooked, I had to drive him to urgent care for stitches.”
“He promised me this time he’d avoid sharp objects. Which means we’re probably eating mac n’cheese tonight.”
Jo’s house sits on a small hill that overlooks the ranch property. Acres and acres of pasture stretch out in front of us. The light is soft and golden this time of day and makes the waving prairie grass glint like spun gold.
“Where’s Kody?” I ask quietly, not wanting to break our easy silence.
“She’s inside, watching Bluey. How was the rest of your day?”
“Uneventful. Walked through town for a bit.” I say, then tell her about seeing the devil and his bride.
Jo raises an eyebrow at me and then shakes her head. “You’re going to have to get over that fear of running into them eventually. You live here too, you know. They don’t own the town.”
“Um, hello, he’s the mayor, Jo. He does own the town.”
A loud crash sounds from inside followed by a stream of muffled curses.
“Should we go inside and save Andy from himself?” Jo says, clapping her hands. She stands up and moves to go inside.
“Actually, if it’s alright, think I could take a short ride? It’s such a nice evening, feels like a missed opportunity if I don’t take advantage of my best friend’s horse flesh.”
“Sure! Moondoggy could use a ride. Make sure you’re back before dark though. I don’t want him throwing a shoe. Or you. And take your phone,” she says over her shoulder as she enters the house.
I can hear Kody call out from the living room about being so hungry her eyes hurt. Jo says something that makes Kody dissolve into giggles, and my heart soars. I may not share blood with Jo and Kody, but they are as dear to me as anything on this earth.
I trade my Chucks for a pair of Jo’s boots from the hall closet and make my way down the path that leads to the barn.
The large corral outside the barn is deserted.
Typically, you’d find it full of horses and trainers but they’ve all gone home or been tucked away for the night.
Instead, I’m greeted by chirping crickets and a couple of whinnies from inside the barn.
I enter through the small side door that leads into the tack room and grab a saddle from the rack.
Moondoggy’s stall is at the far back corner.
Jo has carried on her father’s habit of naming the horses after classic cinema heartthrobs.
I pass by the stalls of Butch, Sundance, and Curly.
Most of Jo’s herd roams in the large, fenced pasture, but these guys are the family horses that have stalls of their own.
Moondoggy’s head dips over the stall door as he hears me shuffling closer.
He’s a gentle giant and the only mount that Jo trusts me with when I ride alone.
He’s got a lovely tan coat and bright blond mane, which matches perfectly with his surfer dude name.
I imagine if horses could talk, this guy would sound like the ultimate frat bro.
“What’s up my man?” I ask, giving his soft nose a pat. He bobs his head and snuffles my hand, checking for treats.
I’m not an accomplished rider, but being in Jo’s orbit means I know how to saddle a horse and go for a canter.
However, it takes me about ten minutes longer than it would for anyone else on this ranch (including six-year-old Kody, who is basically a human spider monkey), so when I finally get Moondoggy saddled up and walk out of the barn, the sky is almost too dark for this ride to make sense.
“Well, looks like we missed our window, Moon.” I say, patting his neck. He snorts and stomps his front hooves, clearly eager for a leg stretch.
“Maybe just a quick once around the block.” It looks like I’ve got maybe 15 minutes before it’s too dark to safely ride anywhere, and that’s better than nothing.
I heave myself up in the saddle and barely manage to grab the reins before Moondoggy leaps forward, racing towards the open gate that leads into the pasture beyond.
Usually, I have to nudge him into anything more than a trot, but today he’s clearly got an itch for the wind in his hair.
We race across the pasture, and I whoop into the wind, doing my best to hold a decent seat.
A sore butt is assuredly in my near future, but I don’t care—this is awesome.
Moondoggy’s hooves pound across the grass, sending the occasional slumbering bird darting up into the safety of the sky.
His long stride eats up the ground below us.
I throw a glance over my shoulder and see that the ranch house has disappeared behind us.
We’ve gone much farther than I thought possible in such a short amount of time.
The world feels impossibly infinite at this moment, like I could ride this horse straight up into the stars. On his back, I am a warrior—a borderline middle-aged Rainbow Bright.
Everything is beautiful. Everything is sad. There are ends and beginnings in every direction. I am Paige Marion O’Flynn, and I am riding this horse into my next adventure. I feel the urge to yell so I do. I scream out the only thing that makes sense these days.
“FUCK YOU JOHN!!!” The sound echoes around me, sending more poor sleepy birds shooting up from their nests. “Sorry bir—”
Suddenly, a dark shape hurtles from the woods to my right. Then the world goes sideways, and every last molecule of oxygen leaves my body.