Page 68 of The Older Woman

I nodded and smiled at the horse Dad had been leading. “How’s the new girl?”

“Oh, Butterscotch here?” he chuckled, giving the horse a pat. “As sweet as they come. Already have a prospective buyer in mind. As long as her training continues as it has, she should be ready for her new home in a month or so.”

Training horses was the bread and butter of business at Wheeler Ranch.

He smiled back, shaking his head. “Well, get on with it. We’ll discuss dinner when you’re back. I believe your mother was keen on going into town tonight, though I suppose that all depends on what the weather has in store for us.”

I tipped my hat before climbing up on Margo and settling in.

“Be back before you know it!” With that, I nudged Margo with my heels, watching as Dad gave me a final wave before leading the horse into the barn.

I glanced downward, holding on to the brim of my hat against another hard gust of wind. Margo kept on straight and steady, but I could feel the nervousness quaking through her.

“You’re doing just fine, girl,” I said, stroking her side as she moved. “See? That mean old snow isn’t so bad.”

Margo let out another snort but kept moving forward all the same. The closer I drew to Wheeler Hill, the more I could make out the darkness of the clouds ahead. Part of me wondered if Dad was right, that it’d been a bad idea to go out with this kind of weather on the horizon. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, a picture of Margo on the lock screen. With a few quick swipes, I opened the hourly weather forecast.

It was looking rough. A large snowstorm was set to arrive in the next couple of hours, with a predicted eight to ten inches of snow. All the more reason to make the trek in good time. So long as Margo cooperated, we’d be back within the hour.

I spent the time it took to reach Wheeler’s Hill going over my plans for the next few months, specifically those relating to the wedding planning business I’d been putting together, although it wasn’t yet much to speak of. I’d spent all of last year learning everything I could about both running a small business and the wedding planning industry. So far, all I’d had to show for it was exactly two clients, one of them a family friend.

I’d set aside a little money that I’d earned from each event, but I hadn’t been able to land my next wedding. The ranch occupied a ton of my time, and as much as I loved living with Mom and Dad, it was hard as hell to keep my up-and-coming business separate from life on the ranch.

In short, I needed an office. With an office, I’d finally be able to get my business off the ground. An office would be a place I could go to and focus, to have meetings, to giveBeth’s Dream Weddings—my business name—the feeling of being, well,a business. Denver was only a forty-minute drive from the ranch, which meant the commute wouldn’t be much at all.

Mom and Dad had offered to pay for the deposit and the first year’s rent of the office. They didn’t like to make a big show about it in terms of what clothes they wore or cars they drove or anything like that, but my parents had money. Dad had been an investment banker who’d long since sold his firm for a huge payout, and Mom had been an executive project manager back in England.

None of that mattered to me, England was a lifetime ago. So long ago, in fact, that I didn’t even have an accent anymore. Besides, I wanted my business to bemything, something I built with my own two hands. Having my parents simply cut me a check to rent an office seemed hollow. Writing my own check, however… I couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying.

A cold rush of wind pulled me back into reality. I looked around, realizing that I’d become so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even realized I was nearly at the peak of Wheeler Hill. The name “Wheeler Hill” was something of a misnomer. It was tall, a thousand or so feet high, and afforded a sweeping view of the valley where the ranch was located. A well-worn path weaved upward, aspen and pine trees dusted with snow towering overhead.

It was my favorite place to come when I needed some fresh air, or just to clear my head. Not to mention, the view was killer.When I reached the clearing at the top, a smile spread on my face. The Rockies loomed large to the west, white peaks rising and falling across the length of the horizon.

The ranch was to the east, the gorgeous fifty-five-acre stretch of land nestled down in the valley. The property consisted of a handful of buildings; two barns—one for horses, the other for cows—a guest house, a supply shed, and a three-story home built in classic Colorado chalet style with a pointed roof and wood exterior. The interior of the house had been completely remodeled with just about every modern amenity one could want.

Sometimes I wondered why Mom and Dad had made the decision to leave their old lives behind and start fresh in Colorado. All it took for that question to be answered was a trip to the top of Wheeler Hill, to take in the gorgeous panoramic view of the ranch and Rockies, the sky vast and huge and endless up above.

Off to the west, the other side of the valley was covered in a thick blanket of trees, the endless green reaching all the way to the Rockies in the distance. A few plumes of gray smoke rose here and there from the woods, sure signs and a reminder that people lived out there. I imagined burly men in red flannel, axes slung over their shoulders, a metal mug of whiskey and coffee in hand. Tough, independent sorts of guys that you’d never see in downtown Denver.

I smiled, closing my eyes and letting the fresh, mountain air fill my lungs. Only the cold pinprick of snowfall on my face and the shudder of Margo underneath me brought me back into reality.

I patted Margo’s side. “Alright, girl, you’ve done good. Let’s get on back home, alright?”

Margo didn’t waste a second before turning, pointing us both in the direction of the path leading back down the hill. I pulled the reins, starting her off into a slow trot down. The path was covered in about a half inch or so of snow.

The precipitation picked up on the way down, swirling through the air, the cold making my cheeks burn. The sun had begun to dip lower, the sky behind the clouds aglow with a soft, dull light. Darkness was growing by the second.

Margo picked up her pace, in spite of what I instructed.

“Easy, girl. Easy.”

Between the snow and the cold and the dark, she was getting nervous. I needed to get her back to the barn soon.

Her pace seemed to pick up in direct proportion to the increase in snowfall. We headed down the path, my heart beating faster. I slipped my phone out of my pocket and checked the reception. It was spotty as it always was out there, but I had a couple of bars.

Margo let out a whinny while my eyes were on my phone. I looked up just in time to shove my phone back into my pocket and bring my attention to what she was upset about. I gasped, spotting two black figures crossing the path ahead.

“Whoa, girl!”

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