Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
The mares did not appreciate me putting their rain gear on either, and it took time to unhitch and then re-hitch them, but I wasn’t about to let them get soaked. They, like Juju, told me with near bites and loud whinnying that they especially disapproved of their head covering. I knew Juju was mad at me because normally, if another horse tried to bite me, she’d bite them to make sure they understood that was not acceptable. The fact that she allowed the mare on the left to nearly take a chunk out of my left shoulder said in no uncertain terms that she was displeased with her outfit.
“You’re gonna be happy you look this stupid when it starts to rain,” I groused at my horse, who could not have looked more disgruntled if she tried.
It was late to still be moving cattle, I was tired, and it struck me funny that she was mad. There was no controlling a case of the giggles, and I had it bad. I laughed myself hoarse looking at her, and she groaned in response.
Once I finally had myself under control, I climbed up on the wagon and we started following again.
I was actually in good shape when the skies opened up thirty minutes later because the wagon was covered, and since the rain was coming straight down and there was no wind, I stayed dry. So did Annalise, sleeping peacefully behind me, and the horses were good as well.
Mac rode back to check on me, squinting from under his hat, his shirt now soaked and clinging like a second skin.
“You put their rain gear on?” He sounded surprised, glancing at the other horses as well as Juju.
“Checked the weather on the sat phone,” I said loudly so he could hear me. “I’m a big believer in being ready for anything.”
He was staring at me when suddenly a man on a horse crossed my path, headed off in the wrong direction.
I chuckled, tipping my head toward the wayward guest, and Mac growled and was off to retrieve him.
Me and the wagon and Juju made good time, at a certain point catching up with the drag, waving to Pierce, Tom, and Ed.
“I should learn how to drive that thing,” Ed called over to me from under the water running off the brim of his hat.
The wagon, it turned out, was the best place to be.
I felt bad for the guests, bad for Mr. McNamara, bad for Robin and Ms. Kerr, but mostly I found myself feeling for Rand. He had just been trying to do the right thing by the cattle, and now he was driving them through mud getting thicker by the second, on a cold, stormy night. And there was nothing else to do but go forward. There was no shelter on the range; there was nothing until we hit the Lone Pine. It was a nightmare.
It was one thirty in the morning by the time we reached the Lone Pine. Since I’d just been there, I knew where it would be the safest and driest, so instead of going to the stable, I headed for the barn.
Inside, I took care of the two mares, then Juju, and got everyone settled, got some food and water, then put blankets on all three. I checked on Annalise, found her snoring, which was a surprise, and put another blanket on her. I wasn’t sure if I should go find her parents, but I didn’t want to leave her alone in case she woke up, and I didn’t want her to get wet and cold in the rain if I carried her up to the bunkhouse. I finally decided on calling the Lone Pine to talk to her parents on the phone.
I sat there for a bit, waiting, but finally Kate came on the line.
“Oh, Glenn,” she began, and I could hear her teeth chattering, “tell me where you and Annalise are so I can—”
“Ma’am, she’s sleeping. And warm in the back of the wagon. I took her off Juju before the rain started, and she fell asleep. At the moment she’s snoring, and it’s kinda loud.”
She gasped. “What?”
“Snoring,” I repeated. “And it’s loud.”
There was relieved laughter from Kate. “She didn’t get wet at all?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I was so worried about her but had no idea where you were, and that makes me a terrible, terrible mother to trust a stranger with her child so quickly, but I just had such a good feeling about you, and your horse loves you, and—”
“It’s okay. She’s okay. Everything’s fine,” I soothed her. “We’re in the barn toward the back, behind the bunkhouses, so you can come check on us as soon as you can feel your feet.”
She started crying then, bawling over the phone, and I told her again not to worry, and we hung up.