One Less Lonely Cowboy

“I knew that.” She gave a quick smile. “Just sticking up for a friend.”

“You changed your boots,” he said with a pointed glance, and she knew what he was thinking. These boots were navy blue with tan wingtips and fancy stitching to match her favorite show outfit, which she’d found—to her surprise—hanging in the back of her old closet.

“I haven’t worn these in years. I’ve had them since high school.” She planted her heel in the dirt and turned her toe up, hoping he would notice that they were broken in and had a few scuffs. She remembered a time when she’d felt pretty damned dazzling wearing her blue boots. “At least they’re comfortable.”

“I don’t know how they do things in the big city, but out here, you find a boot that works for you, you stick with it.”

“And don’t worry about looking the part?” She took the reins he offered and swung up into the saddle. “Freeedomm!”

His laughter rang out behind her as they urged the two sorrels through their paces and made for the wide-open spaces.

The closer pastures were reserved for calving this time of year, and the size of the bellies on the mostly black white-faced expectant mothers gave proof that the smallest of the pastures would soon be a busy place. For now the cows moved slowly or stood quietly, showing no interest in anything but nibbling last year’s grass or soaking up this afternoon’s sun.

“The heifers calved out pretty easy this year,” Jack told her as the horses wended their way through the herd. “Cows should start dropping their calves any day now.”

“Perfect weather for calving. Nice and dry.”

She wasn’t even missing her gloves, but that was partly because it felt so good to be back on a horse that all she wanted to do was sit on top of the world and enjoy the warmth of fuzzy winter coat, silky mane and muscles not her own working in concert with hers.

“We had an easy winter out here,” Jack was saying, and his voice became part of the warmth until he added, “Mike thinks that means we’re in for a spring snowstorm.”

Lily groaned. “Either that or he thinks we’re in for a drought. The weather is one glass that’s always half-empty, whatever the forecast.” She looked to him for agreement, but he wasn’t smiling. She shrugged. “Which is fine, unless he half emptied the glass while he was grumbling about it.”

“In his business you’re always at the mercy of the weather.”

“How long have you been working for him?”

“About seven years.”