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“Ah, manslaughter. Isn’t it hilarious?” Mollie squeezes my arm before letting me go. “You’re a funny guy, Cash.”

“Manslaughter is, in fact, quite the opposite of hilarious,” Goody says.

My heart dips at the loss of Mollie’s touch. “Y’all keep up. We got a good ride ahead of us.”

Same as during lunch, I let Goody do most of the talking. She knows the ins and outs of Lucky Ranch’s operations almost as well as I do. The way she and Garrett worked so closely together over the years, I’d have thought for sure the two of them had a thing going on if Goody wasn’t married to Tallulah Smith, Hartsville’s largest landlord. Tallulah also moonlights as a bartender at The Rattler, which she owns.

Goody talks. I keep one eye on Mollie and the other on the pastures we pass through. She doesn’t look comfortable in the saddle, but she stays in it. Doesn’t complain. I gotta give her credit for that.

The ride doesn’t turn out to be a total waste of time. We run into a pair of heifers that went missing yesterday. I radio in their location—a little island in the creek by the southeast pasture. Duke and John B say they’re on their way with a trailer and medical supplies. One of the heifers was hanging at the back of the feeding pen earlier this week, so Doc wants to take a look at her.

Mollie sits up in her saddle. “Where are the rest of the cows?”

“Long ways away. You gotta move ’em around so they don’t overgraze the pastures. A herd this size, we’re movin’ ’em often. They’re about four miles that way.” I point into the distance.

Mollie’s eyes go wide. “Four miles?”

“That’s nothin’.” I turn my horse and head for the river. “Lucky Ranch is big, but it ain’t nearly as big as some of the famous ranches. Some of the older ones that have been around a while, they’re the size of Rhode Island.”

Goody smiles. “You don’t appreciate just how big Texas is until you’re out here, do you, Mollie?”

“I really had no idea.” Mollie puts a hand on her head. “Wow.”

I point in the other direction. “The river was Garrett’s favorite part of the ranch. You should see it.”

It also happens to be a hilly ride from here. Figure the longer City Girl’s in the saddle, the higher the chance she’ll be so sore and tired tomorrow, she’ll hate everything.

Me. The ranch. This life.

What if she doesn’t, though? No way I’ll stick around if she decides to stay. Either she’ll fire me or I’ll have to quit, no question. But then what?

Realistically, my hands are tied, whether Mollie stays or not.

I catch her looking at me a couple of times. Maybe because she knows I’m looking at her? But I don’t see ire or annoyance in her eyes when they catch on my face.

Or more often, my body. She checking me out? Or is she watching me ride, trying to pick up some pointers?

I’m sweating bullets by the time we crest the final ridge that rises above the mighty Colorado River. I can smell the water before I see it: earthy petrichor, the smell of rain on land that’s gone too long without it.

Glancing at Mollie, I wonder what she’d do if I pulled off my shirt and went for a swim to cool down. Would she fire me on the spot? Or would she just keep staring?

The river’s quiet rush fills the silence.

I stop a little before the edge of the cliff and dismount. “Safer to walk the horses. There’s a twenty-foot drop at the edge there.”

“Um, okay.” Mollie glances at the ground. Glances at me. “You made getting off your horse look easy, but somehow, I don’t think it is.”

Goody dismounts, too, pulling off her gloves. “You need help, Mollie?”

“I got her.” Sidling up beside Maria, I loosen my grip on my reins but keep them in hand. I hold up my arms. “Come on, then.”

Mollie turns her head to look at me from the corner of her eye. “I keep thinking about manslaughter.”

The heat presses down on my neck and back as I squint up at her. “I’m not gonna drop you. Even if I did, at worst, you’d break an arm.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Put your hands on my shoulders, and I’ll handle the rest.”