4. Bryn
FOUR
Bryn
Stitches and all, I was sitting on the porch and waiting for Stetson when he arrived at dawn—as promised.
I wasn’t going to wait; I needed to get back to the creek.
Plus…the kids had gotten up early and they were already gathered at the breakfast table, so I’d gotten pancakes out of it.
Stetson got out of his truck, watching me with a scowl on his face. I stood up to try and show him just how tough I was, bouncing a little.
Immediately wincing, then stumbling, then almost tumbling down the stairs—
He caught me.
Again.
“Sit down,” he muttered in my ear, my hands braced on his forearms.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m ready.”
“You just proved you’re not.”
“It was one step!”
“One step you couldn’t take right.” He didn’t let go of me. “You’re not walking the whole creek on that foot.”
“I told you I’m going—”
“I’m not saying we’re not going.”
“But we can’t drive.”
“We’re not driving.” He sighed, shaking his head. “We’ll go on horseback.”
I stared at him. “You’re…you’re an actual cowboy.”
“My family raises horses,” he said.
“Like cowboys.”
“Stop.” He huffed. “It’s normal.”
“Okay.” I paused. “I suppose I should tell you that I’ve never ridden a horse.”
Stetson sighed.
He did that a lot. Mostly with me.
Still, we got in the car, my pack in tow, and drove the short distance over to the barn.
I hadn't seen any horses on the way to the house in the first place, but I realized now they had at least twenty—beautiful and calm, flicking their tails to brush away flies.
I tried to climb out when we got there, but Stetson grunted and grabbed my arm.
“You stay right there,” he muttered. “I'll get the horses ready.”
I stayed.
Looked back at Buck, who was being similarly obedient.
“Is he always like this?” I asked.
Buck huffed a long-suffering sigh.
“Guess so,” I replied.
Stetson came back leading two horses—one tall and dark, saddled for riding. The other was smaller, packs already strapped across its back with a space for what looked to be my backpack.
Yeah….I didn’t want to admit it, but this was going to be much nicer than walking the whole way on an injured foot.
I swung my legs out of the car and hobbled toward Stetson, who looked extremely annoyed that I was walking at all.
“That one’s Rowan,” he said, nodding at the dark horse. “You’re riding with me.”
“As in—”
“As in you don’t know how to ride and I’m not teaching you.” He glanced at the other horse. “Packhorse is Copper. Buck will walk with us.”
I hadn’t even realized the dog was there, but Buck woofed softly right at my heel. I jumped a little.
“Wow,” I said. “He is sneaky.”
“He’s a good boy,” Stetson said. “Now…you stay right there. Stop movin’ on that damn foot. I’ll get your pack out of the truck.”
He did as he said, as usual. I just stood there. When he came back, he secured my pack to Copper and then came toward me with his hands out like he was going to—
I lurched back a little. “Excuse me—what are you doing?”
“I’m lifting you onto the horse,” he muttered. “You wanna do this or not?”
“I can climb up myself.”
“You just told me you’ve never been on a horse.”
“I’ve seen it in movies.”
His eyes narrowed.
I sighed. “Fine. Lift me.”
He got one arm under my knees and the other across my back, then he set me on Rowan like I weighed nothing. My hands found the pommel. My stitched foot throbbed, but I very intently ignored it.
This…was going to be a problem.
The frogs were more important.
Stetson put his foot in the stirrup, then he was swinging up behind me without a word, the horse shifting.
Stetson’s legs bracketed mine on either side of the saddle, his chest filling the space behind my shoulders, solid enough that I stopped worrying about falling even though sitting on a living animal felt strange..
“Hands on the pommel,” Stetson said, his arms coming around to take the reins.
He had…very nice forearms.
Tan and muscled and covered with dark hair and a few little scars—
I got distracted when the horse actually started moving, the packhorse following us without so much as a word. Buck fell in ahead of us, glancing back every so often as we headed toward the treeline.
It was much scarier when we were moving.
“You’re fine,” Stetson said, his breath against my neck. It made goosebumps break out all over me, and I hoped he couldn’t see them erupt along my right arm where I could feel that breath.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”