Page 10 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)
Chapter Nine
The Ranch
“Hello?” came a muffled voice.
“Poet?” I asked into the cell. “Are you okay?”
She sniffed. “Yeah, I’m okay.” And then she promptly burst into tears.
“Hey,” I soothed. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
It took a few moments for Poet to get herself under control, but she finally managed to pull herself together.
“I’m in the women’s restroom at work, hiding from my boss so she won’t see me cry.”
“Who made you cry?” I demanded, angry on behalf of my sensitive friend. “Was it Alba?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say to you?”
She exhaled a rickety breath. “We were in a meeting with Candace and . . . and . . .”
“And?” I pressed gently.
“You know that manuscript I was reading?”
“The one you couldn’t put down? I remember.”
“Yeah, well, I stupidly left it out on my desk with my notes and I was going to tell Candace I recommend she read the manuscript for herself because it was a real diamond in the rough. Alba took the manuscript off my desk and presented it to Candace as if she’d found it.
Candace read it on her lunch break and told Alba good work and that she was going to present it at the editorial meeting later this week. ”
“Oh, Poet,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You’re crying in the bathroom stall at work. Tell Candace the truth.”
“I can’t,” she said. “You know publishing is cutthroat. It’ll look like I’m a whiney tattletale. And at the end of the day, all I care about are good stories getting their day in the sun.”
“You also want the job title of senior editor,” I reminded her.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “But people like Alba usually give themselves enough rope to hang themselves. I just have to give it time.”
Poet had been working as a junior editor for a major publishing house for the last two years. She loved her job—but she hadn’t planned on people wanting to step on her on their way to the top.
“You called me,” she reminded me.
“I did.”
When I fell silent, she urged, “Go on.”
“I’m sitting in my bedroom closet so I can have this conversation in complete secrecy.”
“I’m intrigued,” she teased.
“You know the cowboy wrangler?”
“The one you’re determined not to sleep with? Yes. How’s that going, by the way?”
“I went to his cabin to give him back his coffee mug and he answered the door in a towel.”
There was a pause.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“What? No!”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
“Am I allowed?” I blurted out.
“Allowed? Allowed to what? Be an adult and sleep with a guy? Yes. You’re single. He’s single. I don’t see a problem.”
“It hasn’t even been two weeks since Gianni and I split up,” I pointed out. “Doesn’t that make me . . .”
“Make you what?”
“You know.”
“A slut?”
“I was going to say terrible , but thanks,” I drawled.
“I’m not calling you a slut. And you’re not a slut,” she stated. “Why didn’t you call and ask Salem for advice? Or Wyn?”
“Because Salem might be my twin, but Salem and Wyn are feral twins in spirit. Both of them would’ve told me to go for it. You and I though . . .”
She sighed. “Yeah, I get you. We’re kinda prudish.”
“I wouldn’t say prudish.”
“I would. I’m okay with that though. You . . . I think you’re not okay with that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be calling me asking me for advice.”
“I asked him to go riding with me this afternoon.”
“Riding, huh?”
“Horseback riding,” I clarified. “Jeez. You’re just as bad as Salem.”
“Why are you going horseback riding together?”
“Because I don’t feel comfortable riding alone while there’s a bear so close to home.”
“You could’ve asked your dad to go riding with you. Or your grandmother. She’s still spry at her age. And if I recall, she’s a better shot than your dad, too.”
“No lies there.” I laughed.
“So why did you ask Declan?”
“Because I wanted to.” I paused again. “Poet, there’s something I need to?—”
“Hang on,” she interrupted. “The bathroom door opened. Someone else is in here.”
It was muffled on the other end and then Poet came back on the line. “I’ve got to go. Let me know how your ride goes.”
She hung up before I had a chance to reply.
My screen went dark.
I reluctantly opened my closet door and crawled out.
“Okay,” I said out loud. “You’re going to go on this ride, but you’re not going to do anything to look pretty.”
I had to force myself not to glance in the mirror because there was no doubt that I would’ve primped. Earlier in the morning, I’d braided my hair and it was still intact, so that had to be good enough.
I’d spent the day outside and in the stables, breathing in fresh mountain air. I loved the familiarity and routine of ranch chores.
Maybe I had been deluding myself into thinking I could settle long term in the city.
I’d made it work because I followed my sister on her adventures, and then I’d forced myself into a box because of Gianni.
But now that I no longer had the tether of a fiancé, the only real draw to return was my sister and my friends.
And those relationships were important to me.
But what about what I wanted?
On my way to the stables, my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.
I pulled it out and saw Gracie’s name across the screen.
Gracie
Are you busy two nights from now?
Snorting, I texted back.
Me
No.
Gracie
The in-laws are willing to watch Bella. Cole is working, so how about you and I go to the Copper Mule for a drink and some dancing?
Me
I’m in.
I stuck my phone back into my pocket and entered the stables. Declan was already saddling Merlin.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey.” He looked at me, a slow smile creeping across his lips.
“What?” I demanded.
Without a word, he headed toward me. He reached out and gently stroked a finger down my cheek. “Dirt.”
My hand flew to my face. “Dirt?”
“Yep.” His grin was wide.
I groaned.
“What?”
“Never mind,” I muttered.
I saddled Goldie and then she trotted behind Merlin out into the late afternoon sunshine.
“Season is going to turn soon,” I said.
“What was that?” Declan called back.
“Oh, I just said the season is going to turn soon. Winter’s got its last grip, but I give it two weeks and the air will be warmer.”
“How can you tell?”
I smiled. “I’ve lived here all my life. I just know.”
He inclined his head. “So, which way do you want to go?”
“North,” I said. “The land has all been cleared that direction and if the bear is anywhere around, we’ll be able to see him before it’s a problem.”
“I’ll follow you.”
I took the lead. We rode across a meadow and a small stream, silence falling between us as we enjoyed the outdoors. Eventually, Declan brought his mount next to mine and we slowed the horses.
“If you go that way,” I pointed, “you’ll find the hot spring.”
“The hot spring? You’re kidding.”
I shook my head. “Nope. The original cabin that my great-great grandfather built was only a few hundred feet from the spring. It’s why he settled here.”
“I don’t think I know the story of the ranch,” he said. “I didn’t realize it’s been in your family that long.”
“Dad didn’t tell you?” I asked in surprise.
He shook his head.
“My great-great grandfather, Eamon Powell, was an Irish prospector,” I recounted.
“He struck silver in this valley in the early 1880s. He homesteaded the first 160 acres, and as the years went on he used the silver to buy as much land as he could around the original ranch until the mine went dry. He spent the rest of his life here, and the ranch has been in my family since then.” I shot him a grin.
“There’s a myth about the hot spring on our land, too. ”
“Oh yeah? What’s the myth?” Declan asked, his blue eyes bright in the sunshine.
“That it has healing powers.” I shrugged. “Eamon cut his leg once. It was bad enough he thought he’d have to have it amputated—but he went to the hot spring and soaked it, and somehow it healed and he was able to keep the leg.”
“How’d that story make it down the generations?” Declan asked. “Was it written down?”
“Like in the family bible?” I shook my head. “No. It was passed down orally.”
Declan nodded thoughtfully. “Do you believe it?”
“No.” I scoffed. “Of course I don’t believe it.”
“Why not? It could be true. Why don’t you believe it?”
“Because it didn’t heal my mother,” I said quietly.
Declan’s expression fell. “Hadley?—”
“Come on, I’ll race you back to the stables.”