Page 6 of Finding Little Fiera

Instead, the woman extended her hand and smiled. “Hi, I’m Erika. You must be Fiera. I love your name, by the way. I’m a hugeWickedfan. I was actually on my way to greet you when we, um, met.”

It took a second for Fiera to realize that Erika wasn’t managing her. She was greeting her. Fiera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and took the offered hand.“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I should have… I mean, I wasn’t looking where I was… um, where I was going.”

Erika laughed easily. “You’re fine, sweetheart. This is your first visit, right?”

Fiera nodded, heat creeping into her cheeks. Had she already made a spectacle of herself? It was probably because she was now wearing her shoulders as earrings. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a touch,” Erika said kindly, glancing at the tower of luggage. “But that’s okay. You’re in the right place.”

Erika’s confident, straightforward tone relaxed Fiera’s shoulders. Erika led her to the check-in counter. The process was efficient and friendly. Fiera’s name was already on the list.

Before she knew it, a keycard lay cool in her hand, and a folder containing a schedule of the regular activities, printed on thick paper and stamped with little horses in the corners, nestled in her backpack. The structure of the sign-in process reassured her.

“Your room is on the second floor and down the hall to the right,” Erika said as she gestured to where the elevators were located. “If you want help with your bags, I can call Moses. He’s the best at handling luggage, among other things.”

Fiera smiled, managing to look steady. “That’s all right. I’m good.”

Erika’s smile lingered, as if she didn’t entirely believe her but wasn’t willing to challenge it. She just nodded and let Fiera go.

Fiera collected her bags and headed toward the elevator feeling a bit guilty about fibbing to such a nice person. Because Fiera was not, in fact, good.

But she was still standing. For the first time since she arrived, she had the distinct, unsettling sense that this place might notice if she fell and stop her before she hit the ground. But that was what she wanted.

Right?

Chapter Three

Mace liked a horse that listened without needing to be convinced.

Giddy did exactly that. Steady beneath him as he trotted through the outer pastures at Rawhide Ranch, his horse might flick an ear now and then, but his body remained calm. The gelding took the winding fence line like he’d memorized it in the two hours since they’d arrived. Mace kept his hands light on the reins, posture relaxed, eyes alert. Just in case Giddy had missed a gopher hole or old barbed wire hidden in the brush and grass.

Scanning the area, he had to admit he liked what he saw. Years of ranching had taught him the best way to take in a new place was to let it show itself to you. Today, it was doing a damn fine job.

Derek rode a few lengths ahead on Bolt, the horse’s stride confident and unhurried, much like the man astride him. Derek filled a space without effort. Mace respected that. Hawkins was the kind of man who’d been born already knowing where north was. His voice boomed when he spoke, carrying easily across the pasture, but Mace noticed how it softened whenever they passed a guest or when he spoke about his wife and Little girl, Sadie. Mace respected that, too.

To Mace’s left, Travis, the Rawhide Ranch Stable Master, rode Magic, a tall black horse with white stockings that looked almost theatrical against the green grass. Magic moved with precise grace, every step measured. Travis sat straight-backed, quiet and watchful. He had the presence of a man who noticed details most people missed and filed them away for later use. His eyes were kind but watchful. There was nothing soft about him.

Derek turned slightly in his saddle. “Camp starts Friday morning. We’ll sound the wake-up bell at seven sharp to go over the camp rules with the guests. Breakfast is in the dining hall at eight o’clock. This is one of the few mandatory meetings during camp, no exceptions. We have found this helps get everyone off on the right foot. It’s also a great opportunity to remind Littles who aren’t on time that choices have consequences.”

Travis spoke up with his report. “I’ve been working with Wren and Arlo on the stable assignments. I’ll have them posted by dawn on Friday. We’ll have all the horses double-checked by then. As always, we’ll keep the tack room locked for the weekend. No one gets in unless they’re cleared. Mace, I’ll make sure you’re on that list.”

Mace nodded, absorbing it all. The longer he interacted with Hawkins and his people, the more he liked it. There were no wasted words or drama. The Ranch ran like clockwork with respect and structure. “Anything else I need to know as one of the staff?” Mace asked, mostly to confirm what he’d already read and discussed.

Derek grinned beneath his beard. “Wear your yellow staff T-shirt the first day so you’re easy to spot, just in case a Little decides to wander where they shouldn’t. Obviously, most of your time will be spent on rodeo activities, but the rule of thumb is that if you see something that needs doing, you do it. It doesn’t matter whether it’s your usual job or not. For three days… Friday, Saturday, Sunday… we all pitch in. Everyone helps withcleanup, supervision, and even midnight hot-chocolate duty if that’s where you’re needed.”

“Midnight hot-chocolate duty? In August?” Mace repeated dryly.

Travis’s mouth twitched. “It’s a thing. Hot chocolate is not tied to a season or temperature on the Little calendar. And don’t underestimate it. Sugar-fueled Littles at midnight are a force of nature.”

Derek laughed, the sound rolling out across the pasture. “Travis once tracked a runaway Little by the trail of marshmallows she left behind.”

“Mini marshmallows,” Travis corrected. “Pink ones. If I remember correctly, she favored the pink ones.”

Mace snorted before he could stop himself. He liked these men already. They were good at their jobs, serious when it counted, yet kept a sense of humor. In Mace’s eyes, there was always a need to see the humor in a situation, if possible. Especially when dealing with Littles bent on mischief. He’d learned that by experiencing Little chaos up close and living to tell the story.

As they rode the perimeter of the main pasture, Derek explained sightlines, safe zones, and how the oversized playgrounds were designed for adult weight but scaled for Little joy. Mace listened, asking a few questions but mostly taking it in. He liked the way Derek spoke of discipline not only as a punishment but also as a way to bring clarity. Rules ensured no one had to guess where the boundaries were. And consequences existed so that safety could, too.

By the time they turned back toward the stables, something settled into place for Mace. He’d still had a few concerns about working here, but not anymore. Rawhide Ranch wasn’t built for show. It had substance, providing a space where people couldenjoy themselves openly. That was something most people who lived the DDlg lifestyle had never experienced.