“It’s not enough anymore?”
“The shop is huge. It’s got tall ceilings, lofts, windows and doors everywhere. But when I’m in there, I can’t breathe.” She glanced sidelong at him. “And that’s something I haven’t told anyone else. Which I think makes us even.”
His face was close, his eyes hard to read. But then the corners of his mouth tipped up in a sexy half smile and he angled the neck of his beer bottle toward her. “Then I’d like to propose a toast.”
“Which is?” she asked, expecting something about life as a roller coaster, or how she should appreciate her family.
“To the strange and awesome powers of Mustang Ridge.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
He nodded toward the party, where Wyatt and Krista sat at the edge of the crowd with a handful of the dude ranch’s guests, all grubby and soot-streaked, but laughing like they were the best of friends, rather than just passing through for a week. “Wyatt has told me, over and over again, how people come off that bus enemies and leave friends, and how kids arrive not talking to anybody and wind up singing along at the bonfire. He’d be the first one to admit that he’s a thousand times happier now than he was the first time he set foot on the ranch, and he’s not the only one. So it seems to me that if you’re ready to make some changes in your life, you came to the right place.”
Grateful—that he understood, that he wasn’t going to push—she tapped her bottle to his. “To Mustang Ridge.”
* * *
Over the next couple of days, Danny attacked the personality quizzes with a vengeance, working her way through What Kind of Donut Are You?—a jelly-filled cruller covered in a hard chocolate shell, again with the barrier layer and the mushy insides—What Is Your Myers-Briggs Animal?—a cat, self-confident and a good listener, but overly private, needing her personal space, and not good with long-term commitment—and What Is Your Superpower?—time travel, which said she was a perfectionist, a planner, and a romantic.
She didn’t know about that last one, but, hey, the goofier-the-better theory sort of implied the answers weren’t all going to be spot-on. Besides, Farah hadn’t promised lightning-bolt insights—she had thought Danny needed a new way of looking at things, something fun to push her outside her mental comfort zone. She also liked to say that when one rehab exercise got easy, it was time to switch it up to something else that wasn’t nearly so comfortable, thus avoiding a plateau. Which was how Danny found herself setting aside What Harry Potter Character Are You? and What’s Your Favorite Medical Procedure? and pulling out the tarot deck Farah had given her, instead. Just go with the flow and relax, Farah had instructed. Shuffle until it feels right, then turn over the first card that calls to you.
“Okay, okay. I’m shuffling.” How would she know when it was right, though? It wasn’t like there was an indicator light or a convenient ding-ding-ding sound to tell her when she was done.
A rustle brought her attention up just as two familiar bushy-tailed forms dropped from a tree onto the roof of the RV, and from there scampered down to the edge of the awning. Seeing that he had her attention, the bigger of the two flicked his tail and stomped his feet in the unintelligible—at least to her—squirrel dance that she had decided to consider a greeting.
“Howdy, Chuck. Hey, Popov.” She had figured since they kept coming back, she might as well name them. “What do you think? Are my cards ready yet?”
Even as she asked the question, she fumbled the shuffle and a card fell out, tumbling to the table and skidding to a stop beside her laptop. Popov—smaller and reddish, and quicker to investigate than his companion—moved partway down the awning strut, attention fixed on the fallen card.
“Sorry,” she said, snagging it. “And how many times do I have to tell you guys that I’m not going to feed you?” Though admittedly she couldn’t police every crumb, which was probably why they stuck around. “Anyway. Let’s see what the cards have in store for me today.”
She flipped the card over, half expecting the Tower, which she was pretty sure symbolized change. Instead, she got a man and a woman in a full-body embrace and a title at the bottom: The Lovers.
“Whoa. That’s . . . Hm.” She wasn’t sure how to feel about that one, especially when she’d caught herself thinking about Sam a few too many times since that night at the Sears place. Not that there was any reason not to think about him—he was as appealing in her mind’s eye as he was in real life, with the bonus that she could stare without him knowing. She didn’t want to lean, though, didn’t want to get into anything serious when she needed to be working on herself. And she took her lovers seriously.
Grabbing her Noobs Guide to Tarot, she flipped through the table of contents, found the proper page, and read:
Despite its name, the Lovers card isn’t about romance, but rather relationships. In the positive, it speaks to intuitive choices and true connections. In the reverse, it refers to emotional conflict and contradictions. In a single-card spread, drawing the Lovers card suggests that it is time to make new connections.
“Oh, okay. Phew.” She leaned back in her chair and glanced over at Popov. “At least it’s not trying to tell me that the next guy I see is going to be my soul mate.”
Still, what it was saying bumped up against the low-grade urge she’d been fighting all day. She didn’t need supplies, didn’t have any real reason to head back over to Mustang Ridge, but she had a hankering to do exactly that. More, she had an open invitation, and Krista had offered her friendship. Which definitely counted as a new connection.
“Okay,” she decided, gathering up the book and the deck of cards. “Sorry, guys, but you’re on your own for the afternoon. Keep an eye on the place for me, will you? And don’t even think of breaking into the RV and helping yourself to more candy!”
* * *
When Danny arrived at the ranch, the barn was abuzz with people and horses, and a group of guests were down in the arena, getting a roping lesson that seemed to involve lots of laughter and catcalls as they threw loops at wooden sawhorses decked out with plastic cow heads. Figuring that if Krista wasn’t in her office, someone in the vicinity would know where she was, Danny headed for the main house, nodding to a mother and daughter pair in passing. Both fair-skinned, freckled redheads, they were wearing turquoise cowgirl shirts, sunburned noses, and matching vacation-happy expressions.
“Excuse me.” The woman reached out and grazed her arm. “Do you work here?”
“Sorry, no.” But Danny turned back. “Can I help you find someone?”
“Oh, no. It’s not a crisis or anything. We were just wondering what kind of bird that is over there.” She pointed to the far side of the lake, beyond the boathouse and floating dock to a cluster of trees.
It took Danny a second to pick out the big, hulking shadow perched near the trunk of a thick pine. “Wow, what is that, a pterodactyl?”
The woman laughed. “Okay, glad I’m not imagining things. When it flew over the boats, its shadow was huge!”
“I was afraid it was going to swoop down and eat me,” the little girl announced.
Judging her to be a precocious six or seven, Danny said, “Actually, there wouldn’t be much danger. It’s a buzzard, and they’re mostly scavengers.”
“It eats dead things? Ew!”
“Not ew,” Danny said. “Cool! Their stomach acid is so strong that they can eat stuff that’s real old and rotten, which means they help stop other animals from getting sick. And they can glide for miles and miles without flapping their wings.”
“Okay, that is cool,” the mom agreed. “What do you say, Siobhan?”
“Thank you. What about that one?” The girl pointed to a soaring silhouette that was little more than a dot in the sky.
Danny squinted. “A hawk, probably. Maybe a red-tail? They’re pretty common around here. You know how on TV and the movies, whenever you see an eagle,
the sound track has that scree-aaahh, scree-aaahh noise? That’s actually the sound of a red-tailed hawk, not an eagle.”
“Wow, you know a lot about birds.” Siobhan peered up at her. “Are you an orthodontist?”
“I think you mean ornithologist.” Stifling a laugh, Danny gave her points for trying. “Nope, just someone who loves being outdoors, and enjoys knowing about the places I visit. Kind of like you, huh?”
They shared a grin.
“Okay,” Siobhan’s mom said. “Now that we’ve got that settled, what do you say we go get cleaned up for dinner, and let this nice lady get where she was going when we shanghaied her for the bird edition of twenty questions? Say thank you first, though.”
“G’bye! Thanks!”
As they headed off, the mom waved and mouthed, Thank you!
Amused by the exchange, Danny continued on her way to the main house, only to catch sight of Krista emerging from the barn with a couple of coiled-up ropes in her hands, Abby in her baby sling, and a scruffy gray dog trotting at her heels. Changing her course, Danny headed over to intercept.
Krista’s face lit up. “Look who’s here, Abby! It’s our resident hermit. Only she’s not being so much of a hermit this week, is she?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Danny said.
“Don’t be silly! In fact, if you’re sick of the RV, there’s an apartment over the barn with your name on it. Just say the word.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could and should.” Krista grinned. “But you’re happy where you are, so you won’t. The offer’s open, though.”
“Thank you. Seriously.”
“I’m being selfish, of course. I’d like to see more of you, and Jenny’s dying to get together as soon as she gets home. Which, for the record, is the day after tomorrow.”
The gray dog bounced up on his hind legs and grabbed at one of the ropes.
“Klepto, don’t you dare. Give that back.” Lowering her voice to a this means business tone, she said, “Drop it, mister.”
He released the rope instantly and plopped down on his shaggy butt to lift his paw endearingly.
“Ha!” Krista said. “Don’t believe him for a second. He may look all cute and innocent, but this morning he ate my corn muffin and hid my keys.” She ruffled the fur on his head, though, suggesting she wasn’t holding much of a grudge.
“That’s better than the other way around,” Danny pointed out.
“I suppose.” A calculating look crossed her face. “You could use a dog out there in the valley, right?”
“Oh, no you don’t. I’ve already got a pair of squirrels looking to rob me blind. I don’t need a dog to help them do it.”
“Worth a try.” Krista shrugged. “Besides, Wyatt and Abby would miss Klepto. Wouldn’t you, baby?” After giving the squirming sling a quick one-handed snuggle, she tipped her head. “Come on. Junior needs a couple more coils for roping practice.”
As they headed toward the arena, a generously padded fortysomething guy whooped and did a couple of celebratory booty pops at having gotten his lasso around one of the sawhorse cows.
There was a smattering of applause, and as she hung the spare ropes on the fence, Krista called, “Looks like the first round is on Rudy tonight!”
“You know it!” he agreed cheerfully, and the others laughed.
“The drinks are included in their stays, of course,” Krista said as they moved off. “The ropers get special cupcakes tonight, though, complete with little lassos.”
“You’ve got a great setup here,” Danny said. “The guests always seem to be having such a good time.”
“Thanks. We work at it, but we also seem to attract the right sort of people. Just lucky, I guess.”
“My dad always says luck is ninety percent preparation.”
“Sounds like a smart guy.” A burbling chirp rose up from the vicinity of Krista’s hip. She held up a finger, patted the spot, and pulled out her phone. “Sorry. I’m waiting for a call. Give me a second?” At Danny’s nod, she took the call. “Martin, hi. Did you hear back from your grandson?”
Danny wandered off a little way and watched as the roping practice shifted, with the guests now trying to lasso each other, with lots of ducking and laughter involved.
“Well, drat,” Krista said, her disappointment clear. “No, that’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. I just wish . . . Well, anyway. Thanks for trying. If you think of anybody else, let me know, okay?”
A moment later, she came up beside Danny, smiling as Rudy made finger-horns on his head and pawed the ground, daring his partner to rope him. The stress crinkles remained at the corners of her eyes, though.
Danny hesitated, then said, “Something wrong?”
“Not wrong, exactly, it’s just . . .” Krista sighed. “It’s the Sears rebuild. They’re working on the main house this week, skilled labor only, and my dad really wants to help with the wiring . . . but we need him here.”
“For repairs?”
She shook her head. “No, we could work around that. It’s the wilderness treks. He’s in charge of entertaining the folks who don’t want to ride on a given day, or at least offering them an alternative.”
“Like bird-watching?” Danny asked, thinking of Siobhan and her mom.
Krista nodded. “Fishing, nature hikes, canoeing . . . Whatever he feels like offering, really. Unless we get a special request, I leave it up to him. A couple of years ago, I could have skipped the treks for a few weeks. But they’re too popular now, and we’ve got repeat visitors who are coming with their families, expecting to have options.” Her expression went rueful. “He’s not pushing me, mind you—I’m the one who’s pushing. I know he wants to go, and I know the rebuilding project could use him, but it’s too late in the season to find a qualified guide and I can’t hand the guests over to just anybody.”
“What about me?”
Krista eyed her, but then shook her head. “You’re a sweetheart to offer, but come on. You don’t really want to hang out with the guests, do you? Five hours a day, five days a week for the next month, maybe longer? That’s not what you signed on for.”
No, it wasn’t. But Danny didn’t hate the idea as much as she would’ve expected—she was kind of intrigued, actually. Not to mention that it would be a way for her to balance the scales. “I can do the job. My family’s shop offers hikes and guided bike rides during the summer for the tourists, and I did that stint with Jungle Love, helping keep the singles safe on their bungee-jumping and zip-lining dates.”
“That’s not the point. You’re on vacation, girlfriend!”
“Which means I get to do what I want, right? And I want to help out.” More than she would have expected, really. She was supposed to be stepping outside her comfort zone, after all, and trying something new, so this fit. “That is, if you’ll have me? I know I’m not a local, but I’ve studied the flora and fauna, and gotten pretty familiar with the trails. I can do more reading, talk to your dad about fishing the river, and—”
“If I’ll have you?” Krista’s voice went up in a gratifying squeak.
“I know you don’t know me very well—”
“Danny, seriously?” A broad grin split her face. “You’d do it?”
“I want to do it.” Enough that a prickle of excitement ran through her body and her head was suddenly full of ideas—plant hikes, bird-watching scavenger hunts, forays out to see the mustangs in Blessing Valley. “Come on. What do you say?”
With a whoop, Krista flung her arms around Danny’s neck. “I say welcome to the team!”
7
On Wednesday, Sam gave Axyl, Midas, and Murph the day off, locked himself in the mansion, booted up Legend of Zelda in the game room, and let himself fall into the fantasy world that had been a long-ago birthday present, secondhand yet beloved.
The hours bl
urred as he worked his way up the levels, killing bad guys and gathering coins and spells. “Ha!” he said over the bloop-dee-boop music. “Gotcha!” Then, as a three-headed green alien-thing closed in on him, he worked the controller, ducking and weaving his body, even though the old-school tech didn’t translate the movements on-screen. “Take that. And that!”
“Yo!” Wyatt’s voice called from the kitchen. “Hey, Sam. You in here?” The game gave off a bloop-diddly-beep, and he chuckled. “Right.” Boot steps moved from tile to hardwood, and he came through the door saying, “If he’s in the house and not asleep, then he’s in the game room.”
Eyes glued to the screen, Sam said, “Everything okay at the ranch?”
Wyatt propped a hip on the battered couch that still had the same duct tape patch it had worn back in college, when they had shared an apartment. “Yeah. Why?”
“I locked up. Figured you wouldn’t have busted in unless there was a good reason.”
“If you really wanted your space, you would’ve snagged the spare key out from under the mat.”
On-screen, Sam splatted a couple of flying snakes, wishing he could make Wyatt disappear that easily. “I’m not really in the mood for company.”
“Too bad, because you’ve got some.” Wyatt was carrying a couple of beers he’d grabbed from the kitchen. Holding one out, he said, “To living on the edge.”
A sword-wielding skeleton stabbed Sam’s on-screen character in the gut, and damned if there wasn’t something wonky going on, because the doop-doop-diddly became a death knell and the screen filled with two of his least favorite words: GAME OVER.
He glared at the screen. “What the hell was that?”
Wyatt took the controller out of Sam’s hand and replaced it with the beer. “A hint that you’re ready for a time-out.”
“I was on Level Seven.”
“Now you’re back in the real world.” Wyatt tapped his longneck against Sam’s and took a swallow.
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