Page 65 of Chasing the Wild
Between the two of us, we saddle up our horses, side by side. In a silence that aches in my bones, only the little whinnies and snorts and munching sounds of the other horses in their stalls surrounds us. Outside, there’s an insistent howling and swirling as the conditions continue to deteriorate.
As much as I’d love to put this off, or just go on my own, the reality is that I need Layla to come with me so we can get the cattle checked and fed before it’s too dangerous. I don’t need either of us to be caught out by thickening snowfall while down in the far paddocks.
Up here, it could be life or death if you don’t respect the laws of Mother Nature.
She’s up on her horse, rugged up for the elements without so much as a peep, and I follow suit.
“Layla—” I venture.
“Let’s just go. I’m sure the weather is only going to get worse.” She shuts me down efficiently and I get the sense she’s retreated into herself.
There are a thousand things I want to say, but instead, I grind my teeth and take the lead. Once we’re both out of the barn, the biting cold and whipping snow feel like razors against my skin. I turn in my saddle to catch a quick glance at Layla and silently confirm she’s right behind me. All I get is a dip of her chin, but not her eyes.
I can’t fucking stand it.
My mind is anywhere but focused, which is going to be a massive problem if I can’t keep it together for the time it takes us to get down there and get shit done promptly.
As we make our way through the deepening snow, I’m quietly calculating how much more time we’ve got together up here: just over five weeks. Out of that, it’s going to be at least another twobefore the mountain will be reopened again, given how thick and fast this storm has come in.
Burying my face in the collar of my jacket, I blow out a long breath. This is exactly what I’m used to—silence and being alone on top of the godforsaken mountain, working my ass off day in and day out. So I just need to suck it up and get the fuck over whatever this obsession is that keeps festering away inside me.
Layla is here to do a job. I’m going to make sure she gets her hours signed off, and at least I can sleep at night knowing I’ve helped the girl out.
Somehow, in five weeks’ time I can try to rid my house of the wisps of jasmine and pear after she’s taken all her things and left an old man like me buried in the snow with my misery.
As we reach the cattle, they’re already lined up, waiting close to the gate. Snow coats their ears and flanks, and plumes of white stream from their wide noses. Layla doesn’t even have to ask, just heads straight for the gateway while I head over to load up the tractor with a large bale.
Everything is white as far as I can see, and there’s a threatening sky, full of heavy-set ominous clouds rolling toward us.
Devil’s Peak has retreated out of sight, completely obscured by the weight of the storm approaching.
I slide off and hitch the horse, making fast work of the usual routine. With Layla to man the gate and check round the cattle while I’m feeding out, it doesn’t take us long to be done. Thank fuck, because the snow is damn well pelting down by the time I’ve gotten myself back in the icy cold saddle.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I reach forward and give Winnie a pat on the neck, dusting some of the snow off her mane. Her haunches flinch, and she snorts, clearly unimpressed with the need to be out here in the first place.
“Layla. We gotta move.” I glance up at the sky again and see that the front is bearing down on us. Snow whips around my face, and the cold stings every exposed part of flesh. It’s deteriorating quicker than the forecast suggested, and that makes my gut churn.
While we have a lot of easy-to-identify markers to help make our way back to the yard, I don’t like the idea of risking being in a total whiteout. Shit can go sideways real quick, and I’m not taking any chances.
I have to squint against the force of the wind, and clumps of white determined to haze my vision. She’s on her horse, but not moving away from the gate.
“Layla.” My bark in her direction is loud, even to my own ears. While I don’t want to sound pissed off, now isn’t the time for any of us to be fucking around. And even though I deserve every second of her silent treatment, there’s also a time and place for her to be pissed off at me.
That’s when I see her slide off her goddamn horse and go back over toward the gate. She’s fumbling around with the latch, and I can barely make out a faint, blurry outline of her from where I am.
Jesus. We’re both going to get caught out down here with no shelter and every possibility that neither of us will make it back to the barn or the house in one piece.
Growling under my breath, I urge Winnie back in their direction, and my heart pounds. I’ve never been particularly worried about myself up here, I can handle my own, but knowing that she could get hurt—lingering in a blizzard, when we need to fucking move—my teeth are grinding themselves to dust at the mere thought.
I need to get her to safety, but I don’t understand why she’s not listening to me.
“Layla. For fuck’s sake.” I’m outright shouting now. Against the wind and the force of the snow falling and trying to drown out the thundering sound of my own pulse in my ears as I hit the ground.
Crunching over ice and powder, I’m jogging in her direction, with all sorts of curses and threats on my tongue, when I realize what she’s doing.
Layla is tugging and hauling on the gate that’s become lodged in the pugged-up, frozen mud, and she’s trying with all her might to get the latch to slot securely in place.
I feel my stomach drop down into the soles of my boots.
