Page 15 of Death Valley

That feels like victory enough for now.

Jensen helps me dismount, his hands firm on my waist. My legs nearly buckle when I hit the ground, muscles tremblingfrom the unfamiliar activity. He steadies me before stepping back.

“How’re ya feeling?” he asks, taking Duke’s reins.

“Like I just did a thousand squats.” I stretch, trying to work out the stiffness. When I look up, I catch Jensen watching me, his expression darkening before he turns away.

He busies himself checking Duke’s tack. “You’ll be hurting worse tomorrow. But you did better than I expected.”

“You mean for a city girl?” I say wryly.

“For someone who’s afraid of horses.”

I stiffen. “I’m not afraid…”

“Please.” He gives me a look. “I can read people. It’s all over your body language. Something happened to you? Or just a general fear of horses?”

“I was obsessed with horses, actually,” I inform him. “When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was ride. My dad finally gave in and booked me a lesson at an equestrian center. English style and all that. Got thrown minutes into it. Hit my head pretty hard. Thank god I had a helmet on.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. “Never got back on after that.” Not even when Lainey got older and begged for me to go on trail rides with her so we could pretend to be pioneers. If only she could see me now.

He nods like this confirms something. “Fear’s not always bad. Keeps you sharp. Keeps you alive.” His gaze drifts to the mountains. “Up there, you need a healthy dose of fear.”

I follow his gaze. As much as I know that the Sierra Nevadas are a tough mountain range, they’re also heavily trafficked by hikers in the summer and backcountry skiers in the winter. The amount of times he’s looked at the peaks with a combination of fear and reverence are enough to make me wonder what he’s really afraid of. Last night it seemed it was wild animals, but maybe it’s something more than that. Superstition, perhaps?

Duke’s head suddenly snaps up, ears pricked toward the tree line. The horse’s muscles tense, a tremor running through his body.

“Easy,” Jensen says soothingly, but he’s not looking at the horse. His eyes scan the shadows between the trees, where the morning sun hasn’t yet reached.

Duke shifts nervously and something moves between the trunks—maybe a deer, maybe a shadow.

Maybe something else entirely.

“What is it?” I can’t help but whisper, as if I don’t want it to hear me. Whateveritis.

“Mountains are full of things that don’t want to be seen.” His voice is low, sending a shiver down my limbs. “Best to let them be.”

The moment stretches, loaded with things neither of us are saying. The forest remains dark and still. Then Duke relaxes, the spell breaks, and Jensen steps back, though his eyes linger on the trees.

“That’s enough for today,” he says. “We’ll work on your seat tomorrow, providing the storm ain’t so bad.” His eyes latch onto mine, looking more green in the morning light. “You felt it, didn’t you?”

A chill tickles my neck. “Felt what?”

“Whatever got Duke spooked, got you spooked too.”

He starts leading Duke toward the barn and I follow. “Well, it’s hard not to be spooked when you keep looking over there and talking about how I need to fear the mountains.”

He grunts, nodding his head slightly. “Well, up there, when you get that feeling? Trust it.”

“What feeling?”

“The one that tells you to be afraid.”

We lead Duke back to the barn in silence. The morning sun is fully up now, but it feels colder than before. Jensen’s shouldersare tight, his movements sharp as he leads Duke into the stall and helps me untack. Every few seconds his eyes drift to the barn doors, to the mountains beyond.

“Your arms are shaking,” he says as I struggle with a buckle. His fingers brush mine as he takes over, and I try to ignore how my skin tingles at the contact. “Go get some breakfast from the main house if you want. Eli made enough. Then get some rest. You’ll need it for the coming days.”

“What was that out there?” I try again. “In the trees?”

He focuses on removing Duke’s bridle, taking his time before answering. “Could’ve been anything. Wind. Wildlife.”

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