leg, indicating she should put her foot up into the stirrup. “You make it sound like I’m torturing you. It’s just a little ride. I’ll even make it short to spare that pretty little rump of yours.”
“Ha ha,” she said as her crotch made contact with the saddle.
“Just hold on to the horn. I’ll hold your reins with mine. Not so hard to learn. Maybe you can take them on the way back.”
He walked over to Midnight, and as he wedged his booted foot into the stirrup she gazed upon the majesty that was the man’s jean-clad backside. She suddenly understood why her granny had loved watching those old Westerns, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with good versus evil and the steely American spirit. Nope. It was all about the asses.
“I’m going to show you some of the major landmarks so if you ever get turned around out there, you can reorient yourself or at least make an educated guess what your position is.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just programmed your house’s GPS location into my phone and just referred back to it if I got off track?”
“Easier, yeah, but what are you going to do if your battery dies? Charge it up with your attitude?”
Asshole . She sucked her teeth. “I don’t have an attitude.”
He laughed so loud it echoed in the valley.
They rode in silence until the ranch house and outbuildings faded from view. He led the horses near a copse of trees situated by an anemic stream. He hopped down and then held his arms up to her.
“What’s this place?”
“We’re about five miles from the road. Come on down. I want to tell you a story.”
Story time? She looked at the patchy ground, then John’s too-calm face. He wasn’t joking. “Snakes down there?”
“Probably.”
She tightened her fingers around the horn. “You’ll have to excuse me if I beg off.”
“You’re not that big of a priss. They generally leave you alone if you leave them alone. Come on. Just step careful. Won’t be long. Want to explain to you why I live in this beautiful stretch of America.” He swept his arm toward the pastures.
“Yeah. Beautiful.” She sighed and swung her right leg over Sandy’s neck and let John ease her to the ground.
He wrapped his left hand around her right one and pulled her to the edge of the stream. “My family has lived on this property since around 1850. I think the Ericksons came a bit after. We’ve somehow managed to never intermarry with that lot. Thank God.” He added that last bit in a mumble. “Anyhow, you can thank the Mormons for luring us Swedes out here. My folks ended up ditching them on the trail west. They were starving and thought they could do better by themselves. Well, they didn’t know the country.”
“I would imagine.”
“Things got pretty dire for a while as they wandered through the Laramie Mountains. It was so dry and sparse and they were running out of reserves, but they kept moving because they thought dying while moving would be better than letting the buzzards pick them off. Eventually they started eating whatever they could forage. Roots. Grubs. The occasional snake and groundhog.”
“Risky.”
“No kidding.”
“So, what happened to them?”
“Believe it or not, some Arapaho traders actually led them to this place. Knew there’d be water here, and the occasional critter.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Legend has it that someone in Lundstrom party was knocked up earlier during the journey west by one of a group of mysteriously appearing Arapaho traders. Said she had snuck off one night somewhere in the Dakotas and kept sneaking off again and again each long stop they made.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. She ended up running off with them, and I guess in trade the Lundstroms didn’t get killed in their sleep for being Western expansionists.”
“Good story.”
He cocked his hat up so she could see the twinkle in his eye. “Not one I tell much, truth be told.”
“Ever think of living anywhere else?” she
“Ha ha,” she said as her crotch made contact with the saddle.
“Just hold on to the horn. I’ll hold your reins with mine. Not so hard to learn. Maybe you can take them on the way back.”
He walked over to Midnight, and as he wedged his booted foot into the stirrup she gazed upon the majesty that was the man’s jean-clad backside. She suddenly understood why her granny had loved watching those old Westerns, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with good versus evil and the steely American spirit. Nope. It was all about the asses.
“I’m going to show you some of the major landmarks so if you ever get turned around out there, you can reorient yourself or at least make an educated guess what your position is.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just programmed your house’s GPS location into my phone and just referred back to it if I got off track?”
“Easier, yeah, but what are you going to do if your battery dies? Charge it up with your attitude?”
Asshole . She sucked her teeth. “I don’t have an attitude.”
He laughed so loud it echoed in the valley.
They rode in silence until the ranch house and outbuildings faded from view. He led the horses near a copse of trees situated by an anemic stream. He hopped down and then held his arms up to her.
“What’s this place?”
“We’re about five miles from the road. Come on down. I want to tell you a story.”
Story time? She looked at the patchy ground, then John’s too-calm face. He wasn’t joking. “Snakes down there?”
“Probably.”
She tightened her fingers around the horn. “You’ll have to excuse me if I beg off.”
“You’re not that big of a priss. They generally leave you alone if you leave them alone. Come on. Just step careful. Won’t be long. Want to explain to you why I live in this beautiful stretch of America.” He swept his arm toward the pastures.
“Yeah. Beautiful.” She sighed and swung her right leg over Sandy’s neck and let John ease her to the ground.
He wrapped his left hand around her right one and pulled her to the edge of the stream. “My family has lived on this property since around 1850. I think the Ericksons came a bit after. We’ve somehow managed to never intermarry with that lot. Thank God.” He added that last bit in a mumble. “Anyhow, you can thank the Mormons for luring us Swedes out here. My folks ended up ditching them on the trail west. They were starving and thought they could do better by themselves. Well, they didn’t know the country.”
“I would imagine.”
“Things got pretty dire for a while as they wandered through the Laramie Mountains. It was so dry and sparse and they were running out of reserves, but they kept moving because they thought dying while moving would be better than letting the buzzards pick them off. Eventually they started eating whatever they could forage. Roots. Grubs. The occasional snake and groundhog.”
“Risky.”
“No kidding.”
“So, what happened to them?”
“Believe it or not, some Arapaho traders actually led them to this place. Knew there’d be water here, and the occasional critter.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Legend has it that someone in Lundstrom party was knocked up earlier during the journey west by one of a group of mysteriously appearing Arapaho traders. Said she had snuck off one night somewhere in the Dakotas and kept sneaking off again and again each long stop they made.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. She ended up running off with them, and I guess in trade the Lundstroms didn’t get killed in their sleep for being Western expansionists.”
“Good story.”
He cocked his hat up so she could see the twinkle in his eye. “Not one I tell much, truth be told.”
“Ever think of living anywhere else?” she
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