Chapter 16
Jewel was up before her alarm.
It wasn’t really that unusual. Her mind had its own schedule and rarely consulted her.
This morning, it had decided that five forty-five was time to get up, and she woke up with the odd in-between sleep and wakefulness that comes after a night of light, surface sleep instead of the deep, restful kind.
She lay still for a few more minutes, listening to the lake house settle around her, the creak of timber, the sound of gently lapping water just outside her window.
Cole was already in the kitchen when she opened her door and stepped out, which didn’t surprise her. He kept his own early hours. As soon as he saw her, he looked up from his coffee, took in her riding outfit, and handed her a travel mug with a smile.
“I kind of thought you might back out of going.”
She accepted the mug gratefully. “I honestly thought about it.”
With a grin, he picked up his own coffee again. “I’m glad you didn’t. I think you’ll really enjoy it. The Johnsons said they’d be waiting for you at the lodge at seven thirty.”
“I know.”
“Beck’s still sleeping. I’ll stay here till he wakes up.”
“Thanks.”
She wrapped both hands around the mug and looked across the kitchen in the gray pre-dawn quiet, feeling there was something in his expression she couldn’t fully understand.
It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he just nodded once and told her to have a good ride, so she took her mug and carried it out to her car.
The road between the house and the lodge was familiar enough by now that she drove it without thinking, the mountains pale and still against the lightening sky as she went.
The maples along the roadside showed early signs of change, with patches of amber and rust just beginning to peek through the green.
The color was still faint but clear enough, the first quiet hint of what was to come.
The parking lot was quiet when she pulled in, and the Johnsons’ truck and trailer were already parked near the stable block, ready to go.
She saw Richard moving around the rig, probably running through a checklist he’d completed many times before.
Emma then appeared from the barn with her helmet in hand, her silver braid neatly tucked behind her scarf.
As she climbed out of her car, Emma waved. “Perfect timing. Go get your girl; we’re almost ready.”
She’d left Sundancer at the lodge last night, and the mare was bright and eager from the moment she unlatched her stall.
She had her head held high, her nostrils wide, and her dark eyes were sharp with alert interest. The mare loaded easily, stepping into the Johnson’s trailer with the confidence of an experienced traveler, and settled in calmly, immediately starting to munch on the hay Richard had placed in her manger.
With a smile, she patted her horse, feeling excited about the day. It had been way too long since she and Sundancer had been on a real adventure.
She latched the trailer door and climbed into the back seat of the truck, her travel mug still warm in her hands. After one last check in his rearview mirror, Richard smoothly pulled out of the lot.
From the passenger seat, Emma talked freely, relaxed and unhurried, as the road wound through the trees. Jewel sat in the back, letting the conversation swirl around her and watching the pines pass by.
The assembly area announced itself with a sign just as they reached the turn-off, and once they pulled in, she could see trucks and trailers through the trees as the road curved ahead.
It was larger than she expected, with wide, well-organized lots divided into sections by rows of mature trees, their canopies touching overhead and casting the parking areas into shifting, comfortable shade.
The day parking, marked with green posts, was along the near side, while the overnight lots were farther in.
Through the trees, she could see the standing stalls and the square shapes of trailers with living quarters already settled in for the weekend.
A few tents were also visible, while someone’s camp chair was set out beside a small folding table with a coffee maker on it, an extension cord running back to the trailer.
It was the easy, comfortable scene of people who had clearly done this many times and knew exactly what they needed.
When Richard pulled into the day parking, there were already a dozen trailers there, and she guessed nearly twice as many in the overnight areas.
People unhurriedly moved between them while their horses stood tied to the sides of the trailer, being groomed, tacked up, or simply waiting.
The air smelled of leather and wood smoke from the campers’ breakfast fires, mingled with the cool, sharp scent of the mountain air.
Richard backed the trailer into their assigned spot, and Emma was already out before he fully set the brake, heading around to the side door of the trailer with her helmet in hand.
“Beautiful morning,” she announced happily to no one in particular, smiling at the world.
As Jewel slowly stepped down from the cab, she paused for a moment, soaking it all in.
The clearing around her hummed with friendly energy.
A few trailers down, two women were laughing, their horses tied head-to-head, noses nearly touching.
An older man in a worn oilskin coat was carefully performing a meticulous pre-ride check on a small Appaloosa, working through it as if he’d done it a thousand times but still took it seriously.
A child around ten years old sat on a tack trunk, eating a breakfast bar, completely at ease while waiting.
She walked back and helped Richard unload the horses, securing Sundancer on the trailer tie while Emma laid out tack. Her mare was alert and eager, head up, ears swiveling to catch the sounds of the clearing, observing the voices and the distant call of someone’s horse from the overnight section.
When Sundancer tracked a pair of riders moving past on a loose rein, Emma was watching. “She’s going to be good today, you can just see it in her. She’s got the right kind of forward.”
She continued running the girth up slowly and smiled. “She definitely likes an occasion. Always has.”
By eight thirty, the parking lot had filled up significantly, and the check-in table near the gazebo, where lunch would later be served, was busy.
They joined the line, collected their ride numbers, which were stamped on a round leather disc, and attached them to their saddles.
After stowing the maps they received, they headed toward the trail entrance, where a group of riders had started to gather, all waiting for instructions on when to begin.
When Jewel and the Johnsons rode up, the volunteer—a compact woman in her fifties—was talking to a young couple near the trail entrance.
She remembered seeing the couple pull in shortly after they had, hauling a rusted trailer behind a truck that had seen much better days, the whole rig rattling into the parking area.
Up close, they confirmed her initial impression even more.
The man was broad through the middle and had sloped shoulders, wearing jeans that were too baggy, a flannel shirt with a missing snap at the collar, and boots that could’ve been for work or riding but had long since lost their distinction.
He carried himself with a relaxed, confident ease, reminiscent of someone whose main relationship with horses was recreational in the broadest sense.
The young woman riding beside him had directed her efforts elsewhere entirely.
Her jeans were too tight for riding, and she obviously knew it, but didn’t care.
Her hair was down and carefully styled to last about ten minutes on a trail, while the heels of her boots were too high for anything involving actual movement.
She was laughing at something the man had said, one hand on his arm, her attention more focused on him than on the horse she was riding.
The horse itself was a plain-headed bay with a patient, long-suffering expression that suggested it had carried all kinds and learned not to have opinions about any of it.
Between them, they were managing two saddle bags that clinked with the unmistakable sound of cans when they shifted, leaving her a fairly clear idea of what was in them.
As they rode closer, the volunteer turned to them with a friendly, businesslike smile.
“Good morning. It’ll be just another minute or so, and then you can be on your way.
” She glanced from the young couple back to them.
“Would you mind if these two joined you to start? They’re not with any other group, and it would be faster for everyone if they could just join your group. ”
Emma looked at the man’s chestnut, which at that moment made a dramatic sideways leap at seemingly nothing and was pulled back into place with a quick jerk that caused Sundancer’s ears to flick forward in mild surprise.
“Of course not,” Emma said pleasantly.
The volunteer smiled, made a note on her clipboard, and then turned to address everyone together.
“Welcome to the Friends of Otter Creek Fun Ride.” Her gaze shifted briefly, without judgment, to the young couple.
“For those of you joining us for the first time, this is not a race, and there is no score. There are five stations along the six-mile trail, each with a different obstacle or game. You are free to try all of them, some of them, or none at all. You know your horse better than anyone else here. Trust what you know.” She looked around the small group with a steady, practical gaze.
“Please be courteous on the trail and give each other room at the stations. And have fun!”
The man with the chestnut had a question about who was timing.
The volunteer gave him an indulgent smile. “There is no timing.”
He nodded like he was filing information under the “does not apply to me” category.