Page 145 of Westin

Rocky paces sideways. Gracey throws her head.

“Do you want to run the horses?” I ask.

Her eyes light up, and she nods.

“Good. Let’s take them up, then down. The river cuts across, but we can ford it where it’s shallow. We’ll keep going until you want to stop.”

I click my tongue, and Rocky slips from a walk to a trot, then a canter. His hooves pound the earth, drowning out Gracey approaching until she’s passing me by. I wonder if Gracey has a little thoroughbred in her; she’s got a long gait and gives Rocky a run for his money.

She keeps a half-length ahead. The wind is warm, the sun is pleasant. My head goes blissfully empty, and all I see is my girl, wild and free, the way she was born to be.

Golden waves tug free of her braid and whip around her face. She rides easily, one hand up with the reins, the other out for balance.

We eat up land, our horses flying until we reach the river. The ground levels out and is littered with flat, white rocks. The river bubbles over little dips and valleys. It’s shallow, barely reaching Rocky’s knee in the deepest parts. On the other side is a grove of Ponderosa Pines. We urge our horses up the bank and into the woods, sticking to the trail.

The trees provide heavy shade. The air is cool and green in the forest.

“Where do you want to live?” she asks. “Here at Sovereign Mountain forever?”

I shrug. “I don’t mind where I live, just as long as I’ve got land under my feet and sky over my head.”

She smiles. “I love that about you.”

“You’re the same,” I say.

She’s quiet, her face sober. We pass through the pines, and the world opens up. We take the shortcut through the thinnest portion of old Garrison land, and now we’re at the ridge that overlooks Carter Farms.

The sight brings sudden stillness over her face.

Her throat bobs.

“That’s my home,” she says, her voice husky. “I’d like to think I’d be fine anywhere, but that’s my home. I want to live and die there.”

I hate that I can’t hold her. She’s so small, wind whipping her hair over her face.

“You’ll get it back. Swear it.”

“I believe you,” she says. Her voice is so soft, I barely hear. “I spent so much time looking up at these mountains, riding through them. I never thought I’d be on the other side, locked out. I never imagined it would be because David traded me off.”

Anger flickers through me. I temper it down.

“I should move on,” she says. “I just mourn the person he could have been. I’m not making excuses for what he did.”

“Did your grandmother give the farm to David when she died?”

She nods. “I was pissed about that when David told me, but it makes sense. He ran it as soon as he was old enough to hold a pitchfork and drive a tractor. I wouldn’t have known what to do with it.”

I nod. “It’s a lot of work.”

Her eyes narrow. “I could have done it if anyone took the time to teach me. But after Nana died, David made me stay in the kitchen. He said it was cheaper if I did all the housework.”

I keep my mouth shut. She opens up so rarely; I don’t want to scare her off.

Birds sing in the brush at the edge of the pines. Rocky shakes his head, bridle rattling. She looks up, jerked from her reverie.

“Do you want to ride around to the cemetery?” I ask.

Her eyes light up. “Yes, please.”

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