Page 30 of His Eighth Ride

Satisfied with those thoughts, he realized Wes had gone on with his prayer, and all he heard was, “…and we love Thee with all we have, and all we are, and all we hope to become. Amen.”

“Amen,” Tag said, his gaze flying to Wes. Before he could tell him what a beautiful thing it was to love God with all he had, and all he was, and all he hoped to become, Bree picked up a pair of tongs.

She clacked them together and said, “Okay, poutine. I grew up in Vermont, and my family would vacation in Canada sometimes. I fell in love with poutine there, and now, I impose it on my family for special occasions.”

“You’ll love it,” Gerty said.

“Sometimes I make the gravy with meat, but today, it’s just plain. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, Tag.” She gave him a smile that he returned.

Then Bree tonged some French fries onto his plate. “So first, you take fries. Then, we’re going to add some cheese.” She nudged the bowl of little, miniature mozzarella cheese balls toward him. “As many as you want.”

“These?” He reached for his fork and started to fish out a ball of cheese from the whey.

“Yes, those,” Bree said. “The gravy will soften them, and it melts all together, and it’s divine. Like a party in your mouth.”

“Potatoes, cheese, and brown gravy,” Gerty said. “It sounds simple, but it’s so good.” She took the tongs from Bree and took some fries for herself.

“My favorite is the elk version she makes,” Wes said. “It’s got meat in it, but we’ve got meatloaf tonight.”

“My mama made a mean meatloaf,” Tag said as Bree ladled brown gravy over his fries and cheese.

She smiled at Tag and nodded. “Try it.”

“I can’t wait to try it.”

Gerty finished pouring gravy over her fries, and she said, “My mouth is watering. I really should make this at home instead of waiting to have it here.” She stuck the dripping-with-gravy fry in her mouth and said, “West would love this.”

“Of course he would,” Bree said, not commenting on Gerty talking with food in her mouth, and she smiled down the table to Wes.

“You’re getting how many horses tomorrow?” Wes asked. He’d taken meatloaf, and he was the last to get any poutine.

“Just four,” Gerty said.

“They’ll be good for you,” he said. “Bryce runs an amazing rescue operation.”

“They’re some of his permanent residents,” Gerty said with a nod. “Not ones he can sell, and he’s had them for years. He says it might break his heart, but he knows they need new pastures to roam.”

“Mm,” Wes said. “People are like that sometimes.” He looked at Tag, and he could see where Opal got all of her dark genes. Her daddy had dark hair and eyes, as did her mother. She honestly had no chance to be anything but the gorgeous brunette she was.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just look at Opal,” Wes said. “She couldn’t wait to get out of here, then she only stayed in California for a little bit, and now she’s in Ivory Peaks.”

Tag wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. He looked at Bree and then Gerty, and she seemed a tad nervous too.

“She’s amazing with West,” Gerty said.

Tag’s throat couldn’t swallow properly, but he still managed to say, “She makes the best oatmeal chocolate chip cookie in the world.”

Wes stared at him for a beat, and then Gerty. “I—I’m not saying anything bad about her.”

“Well….” Gerty drew in a breath. “Okay. But it sort of sounded like you’re saying she’ll get tired of Ivory Peaks and leave there eventually too.”

“Oh, no,” Wes said as he leaned back in his chair. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant, sometimes people need to roam other pastures too. Opal’s kind of like that, but she’s loyal and true, and she always follows her heart.”

“She does what’s right,” Bree said. “Is what he’s trying to say.”

“She does that too,” Wes said. He smiled at Tag. “And she does make the best oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the world.”

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