Page 13 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

“I’m all done with the stalls for the day, and I’m ready to help on the tractor.”

Rory was the son of one of our longtime housekeepers. As a single mom, she’d worked hard to provide for her son. He’d just turned eighteen and had graduated from high school this past spring. His mom’s dream was for him to go to college. Rory’s was to work on this ranch.

So I’d hired him. The kid soaked up everything we could teach him. He didn’t bitch about the shit—literal—jobs. And if there was a chance for him to do something with the equipment, he was all over it.

I’d promised him yesterday he could shadow me as I worked on the tractor.

“Change of plan. Jake is working on the tractor today. He said he’d love to have your help.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks.”

“When you’re done, take lunch. Then we’ll wait for the trail rides

to get back in. I’m going to check the fence on the south side. Just hang out and help the guys with the horses when they get back.”

“Will do.” He jogged out the door.

Rory jogged everywhere. His energy was impossible to contain and he always had a slew of questions.

Those questions would drive Granddad, a guy who preferred to work in silence, nuts.

I chuckled.

“What are you laughing about?” My brother, Cash, strode into the office.

“I sent Rory to help Granddad service the tractor.”

He laughed too. “You’ll pay for that later.”

“Worth it.” I grinned. “I thought Katherine had you out with the guests this morning.”

“The folks staying in the Beartooth Chalet canceled their ride. They decided to hike up the ridge and take some pictures since the weather’s good. We’ll ride tomorrow.”

I swiped another pair of gloves from the pile of my spares. “Good. Then you can help me.”

“What are we doing?” he asked as I slapped the gloves into his chest and eased past him out the door.

“Fencing.”

“I knew I should have gone to see Grandma instead of coming out here.”

I walked to the wall where my saddle was draped over a thick wooden post. I pulled off a saddle blanket and grabbed a currycomb, then went to Jigsaw’s stall. I’d planned on just taking a survey and noting damage today, but if Cash was free, we’d tackle the repairs too.

“Do you want to ride or take the truck?” I asked.

“I’ll take the truck,” he grumbled. “Since obviously you’re going to ride.”

I didn’t feel bad for making Cash drive. He spent three times as long as I did on horseback, and he could be behind the wheel for a change.

It didn’t take me long to get Jigsaw saddled and outside. The crisp fall air filled my lungs and he pranced on his feet, anxious to get out in the open. My horse loved to run, but he’d been trained to wait. When I left him standing in a spot, his reins not secured, he stood and waited.

Because he was a damn good horse.

Cash pulled up with the fencing truck, the blue Ford we kept stocked with a pile of steel fence posts and a roll of barbed wire. On a thirteen-thousand-acre ranch there was always fencing to do.

“Lead the way.” He waved toward the two-wheel path that would take us to the south part of the ranch.

I mounted Jigsaw and clicked my tongue to walk away from the stables. When we hit grass, I gave him his head and let him go, our pace starting as an easy lope until he was galloping through the meadow.