Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Didn’t help that its eyes were so unusually blue.
Unnaturally blue.
I shiver at the thought and dress quickly in layers—tank top, thermal shirt, flannel, my most comfortable jeans and a suede and shearling jacket. Everything practical, nothing that would betray what I really am. My gun is still safely hidden in my duffle, zipped at the bottom. I check it quickly, making sure the magazine is full, before repacking it carefully.
Time to see if the riding lesson was worth it.
The crew is already mounted when I reach the barn, their horses stamping impatiently in the morning chill. Jensen sits tall on his horse, Jeopardy, a handsome dark dapple grey gelding with a long salt and pepper mane. Jensen looks every inch the seasoned tracker in his worn leather jacket and dark hat pulled low. He barely glances my way as I approach.
“About time, city girl,” Red drawls from atop his paint horse. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”
“Not a chance, country boy.” I adjust my duffle strap on my shoulder, trying to appear casual even as my heart rate picks up. Duke is already saddled, waiting patiently beside a stocky mule laden with supplies.
“That’s Angus,” Eli says, noticing my glance at the mule. “He’ll carry our gear. Here, I’ll take your bag.”
“No!” I step back, then try to cover my reaction with a laugh. “I mean, I’d rather keep some things with me. If that’s okay.”
Jensen’s eyes narrow slightly but he doesn’t comment. Instead he dismounts in one fluid motion and approaches Duke’s side.
“You remember how to mount up?” he asks, voice professionally distant. As if his hands hadn’t been all over me last night.
“I think I can manage.” I place the duffel on the ground and move to Duke’s left side, trying to ignore how my muscles protest. The bruise on my side throbs as I get my foot in the stirrup.
“Your bag will throw off your balance,” Cole says from his perch on a massive black gelding. “Better let Angus carry it.”
“He’s right,” Jensen says quietly. “You’re still learning. Can’t risk a fall in the mountains.”
I hesitate, hand on the pommel.
“Fine.” I nod at it on the ground. “But handle it gently. I’ve got some…personal items in there. Lady stuff.”
Jensen takes the bag and secures it to Angus’s pack, thankfully not commenting on “lady stuff.” When he turns back, his expression is all business.
“Mount up. I want us set up and settled at the campsite while there’s still light.”
This time I manage to get into the saddle without help, though I wouldn’t have minded Jensen’s strong hands on me again…
Duke shifts from underneath, bringing me back to the present. I need to keep focused on riding in one piece. Thoughts about last night are too distracting, whether it’s Jensen or the rabid horse attack. Though I’m actually amazed that it hasn’t brought my fear of horses back.
We head out single file, Jensen and Jeopardy in the lead, followed by Eli, then me on Duke, with Red, Cole, and Hank bringing up the rear. Angus plods along beside Hank, the supplies creaking with each step. My duffle bag is secured near the top of his pack, and I have to stop myself from glancing back at it more than once, since I know that will only draw suspicion.
The morning is crisp and clear, the storm having swept away the humidity, leaving the air sharp enough to hurt my lungs. We take a dirt road that winds through stands of ponderosa pine, their trunks still wet from the snowmelt, bark gleaming like copper in the early light. Patches of snow linger still in the shadows.
“We’ll hit the trail proper in about twenty minutes,” Jensen calls back. “Cuts through public and private land, keeps us away from the vacation homes.”
Already I notice that Jensen is constantly scanning the tree line, the ground, looking for signs of…something. Even though logic says any trace of Lainey would be long gone after three years, he studies the landscape like he expects to find fresh tracks.
The road is wide so I nudge Duke forward until I’ve passed Eli and am riding beside Jensen. “You always this observant?” I ask. “Or are you actually seeing something?”
His eyes don’t leave the trail. “Track long enough, you learn to read the land. Everything leaves a mark. Everything tells a story.”
“And what story are you reading already?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then points to a fallen log as we pass by. “See those marks? Bear. Recent. Probably within the last day.” His finger shifts to a grove of yellow aspen. “See how the grass is slightly flattened? Deer bed down there regularly. Good to know where the prey animals gather. Tells you where the predators might be.”
I study the forest with new eyes, trying to see what he sees. But all I notice is how the golden aspen leaves shiver in the breeze, how the mountains loom closer with each step, their peaks frosted white and formidable.