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MUSIC AND LAUGHTER leaked from the wooden dance hall, following Kate as she skirted the building and veered toward the horse paddocks. She couldn’t avoid the raucous hall for too much longer. But the sun hadn’t set yet, and Monty might need help preparing for the trail ride.
A flashy palomino snorted, eyeing her suspiciously as she walked past the holding pen. None of the other horses even bothered to lift their heads. Most of the animals knew the ranch routine better than she did. Guests never rode at night and riders were brought back long before dusk. It was too dangerous to be riding trails in the dark. Even the overnighters stopped to make camp long before the sun dropped. The horses knew they wouldn’t be saddled at this time of day and were more interested in gobbling up their hay than checking out a random human.
She scanned the two small paddocks and the animals that had been selected for tomorrow’s trip. Two mules, two sets of distinctive ears. No, three mules. A wave of relief swept her. Thank you, Monty. Mules were smarter than horses, more cautious and unlikely to tumble off a trail. Or over a cliff.
“Evening,” Monty said, his laconic greeting coming from the left side of the corral.
She walked over to join him.
“I had the wranglers round up Belle for you,” Monty said after a moment. He was never one to rush his words, and Kate had learned to wait him out. “She’ll question your judgment a bit. But she’s a good girl.”
“Thank you,” Kate said, giving Monty a grateful smile. She hadn’t wanted to inconvenience anyone by insisting on a mule, but Monty understood. Riding Belle also meant she’d be in back with the pack animals, where conversation with guests would be limited. And that suited her just fine.
At the sound of her voice, the palomino scooted sideways, ramming into the shoulder of a stocky sorrel who had been busy eating. The sorrel immediately flattened his ears, snaking his head and letting the palomino know of his displeasure.
“You teach him, Banjo,” Monty said, scowling at the palomino.
“Is that a new horse?” Kate asked. The animal looked familiar, but he was acting like he’d just stepped off the trailer.
“No,” Monty said. “We’ve had Slider a few years. He’s popular in the arena. Just not my first pick for an overnighter.”
Now Kate remembered. Slider was brilliant at all the reining maneuvers, and the wranglers loved to impress guests with his long slides and powerful spins. He was usually stabled in the barn though. Clearly he didn’t appreciate his new sleeping quarters, or the fact that he’d been removed from his friends. He paced the far end of the corral, scooping up bites of hay and stretching his head over the top rail as he chewed. But he wasn’t stupid. He now kept a respectful distance from Banjo.
Monty tilted his cowboy hat and swiped at his brow. “Guess he’ll be okay,” he said. “The two girls insisted on horses with color and both App mares are in heat.”
They both stared in silence at the handsome palomino, neither Monty nor Kate saying anything more. Matching horses to riders was always a balancing act. Most guests were easygoing, letting the wranglers pick a suitable mount. But some people believed they were much better riders than they really were, or thought that experience at horse shows translated to the ranch. A different skill set was required on the trail and that applied to both horse and rider. As well, failure to win a blue ribbon didn’t hurt anyone while mistakes on the trail could be painful, even deadly.
At least the ride would be relatively easy. In the summer, the wild horses grazed on the other side of the Mustang River where they were buffered from off-road vehicles and hikers. While it was an isolated area, far from roads and towns, the trail was relatively flat with the toughest obstacles being distance and water. All in all, the palomino was probably a better choice than either of the Appaloosa mares, that could quickly draw a feral stallion’s aggressive attention.
Still, Kate couldn’t stop a shiver of unease. The fact that riders wanted horses based on color revealed a disturbing lack of respect for the back country. And it was surprising Monty had even tolerated that sort of request.
But it wasn’t her place to question him. Clearly, Sharon Barrett was prepared to go to great lengths to keep these particular visitors happy. And Monty knew it. Besides, Kate would be in the back with the mule train—a quiet attendant who merely set up camp, cooked meals and took photos of smiling guests upon request.
“I’m going to hang out here for a bit,” Kate said, “and get to know Belle. And I can pack up the dry goods when they’re delivered from the kitchen.”
“That’s all happening in the morning,” Monty said. “Under supervision. We won’t be touching anything.”
Kate’s gaze shot to the orange panniers lying in the open shed. Nothing had been packed yet, not even the tents. She remembered the cook’s watchful gaze when she’d prepared the gluten-free wraps. So these people were paranoid. However, there was no point in asking questions. Monty wasn’t prone to talking at the best of times, unless it was about the animals.
Besides, morning would come quick enough. She already knew there’d be five guests just by counting the horses in the holding pen. “I’ll come early tomorrow,” she promised, “to help with the animals. Is there anything else I should know?”
Monty fingered the brim of his hat, as if weighing his words. “The list that Boss gave me was very specific,” he said. “One hatchet only, to be stowed in the locked panniers. No firearms or weapons of any sort are to be carried...at least not by us.”
Kate shifted, her hand automatically reaching for her hip. Her knife wasn’t there of course. She was headed to the dance hall. But the idea of riding without it left her feeling unprepared. And unsafe. And dammit, she could feel her heart quickening.
“I know,” Monty said morosely. “We all need a knife. I had a packhorse topple over once. Fool horse wasn’t paying attention to the trail. Or maybe I had the pack a little uneven.” He paused as if considering the possibility of such a rookie mistake, then shook his head in quick dismissal.
“Anyway,” he added, “next thing I knew, the horse was upside down, twenty feet below, feet waving in the air like a turtle. If I didn’t have my knife to cut him loose, it would have been much worse. Luckily only his feelings were hurt. Most trail riders have had wrecks like that. I know you’ve seen worse.”
Monty looked at her, as if expecting some sort of reply. But Kate’s mouth felt bone dry. She’d been thoroughly grilled about the tragic mountain accident, by investigators, by the media and again in her exit interview. And she didn’t want to talk about it ever again.
“We’ll be riding the river trail,” she said. “As long as the animals can cross the water, I...we, won’t have any trouble.”
“I know,” Monty said. “You’ll be fine. I’m just saying it’s natural for anyone to want their knife. Especially you.”
“Right,” Kate said. However, the idea of riding without a knife to help in an emergency left her feeling physically sick, and while she appreciated his tact, they both knew it wasn’t natural.
She flattened her palms against her jeans, wondering if she really was the best person for this trip. She’d probably been a little too eager to please. Maybe it would be possible to back out. Maybe Sharon could find another wrangler, one of the guys...
“They asked for a woman,” Monty said. “Someone to help with lady stuff, but who won’t sell stories to the media. Donna’s hurt, and you’re the only other one I trust. So bring along whatever you feel you need. Just know that Boss is depending on you. So am I.”
Kate jammed her fists in her pockets. Monty wasn’t usually talkative but he certainly knew how to push her buttons. No one had needed her in a while. That knowledge left her torn. Then his words sunk in and the vise around her chest loosened a notch.
“Bring whatever I need,” she said hopefully. “So you’re saying it’s okay to bring my knife?”
“I’m not saying that, not exactly.” Monty extracted a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “Boss gave me this list, and we have to follow directions. Still, our most important job is to keep everyone safe. Animals included. And it’s reassuring to know I have a partner who can untangle a pack string.
“Guess I’m just saying it’s up to you.” He yanked his hat lower over his forehead but not before she caught the conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. “And I don’t suppose they’ll check your boot.”
