Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. This kid looked about as handy on a ranch as a squid… if that squid was prone to smoking dope out of a homemade bong.
Dev glanced at me, and we shared a look of unspoken understanding, similar to the one Silas and Waylon had exchanged a moment before. This guy was an added complication Dev definitely didn’t need right now.
“I can help,” I offered stupidly. “With ranch stuff. If you need me to.”
Dev’s frown intensified. “You?”
He made it sound like this was slightly less believable than the stoner kid helping.
I straightened to my full height and tried to ignore the fact that I was still shorter than Dev. “I’m from Texas, in case you’ve forgotten.”
The edge of his lip twitched. “And that’s your ranching resume in its entirety, is it?”
I shot him a look that hopefully said, I’ll bet it’s a better resume than this guy’s.
He sighed. “I could use your help, Tully… Watching Lellie.”
For some reason, his rejection of my offer to help with ranch work stung. I’d sworn long ago never to return to boots caked in horse shit and long days in the saddle, but I felt the need to prove something to Dev. The fact that a day on horseback with Dev seemed like something I would enjoy was neither here nor there.
Belatedly, it occurred to me that I didn’t know when roundup was or whether or not I’d still be in town. That thought reminded me I needed to check in with the office to let them know I’d found Devon McKay.
I excused myself to make a phone call while Dev asked Indigo a few more questions.
And that was when I learned that Pastor and Mrs. Scott had officially filed a petition for custody of Dev’s daughter.
EIGHT
DEV
I was torn between the very fine view of Tully’s ass as he walked away and the need to keep an eagle eye on Lellie as she patted Buttercup’s nose.
“Foss,” she repeated happily. The hippie stoner Way had stuck me with smiled at her.
“You like horses, dudette?” he asked in a gentle voice. “My sister loves horses, too. She’s a tiny nugget, not much bigger than you. How old are you, sunshine?”
Why in the world did everyone need to know the age of random kids they had no relation to?
“She turned one in February,” I said before changing the subject. “Tell me about your experience working on a ranch.”
Indigo’s eyes blinked twice before he took a breath. “Well, ah… I don’t have ranch experience, per se, but I know horses. Like, me and horses… we vibe on the same wavelength, if you feel me.”
I fantasized about throwing a bucket of ice water on Way and Silas early the next morning while they were still comfy-cozy in their bed. “Do you know how to cut horses?”
“Cut!” His eyes went wide. “Oh, my dude, no…”
“I mean wrangle,” I snapped. “Cut one horse from the rest of the herd in order to move that horse to a different pasture.”
“Oh, that.” His shoulders dropped, and his goofy grin reappeared. “Sure. I know how to capture and lead a horse. Our polo ponies were, like—”
Polo? I blocked out the rest of his words. I played polo, too, but comparing it to ranch work was like saying that experience painting walls meant you’d be talented at painting pictures.
Was it possible to find anyone less qualified than Indigo in all of Wyoming? Surely if I went into town tomorrow and threw out a handful of pebbles, I’d hit several locals who knew more about ranching than Indigo. “Tell Way to get you on a horse and show you a few things before Friday,” I barked over my shoulder as I turned and walked away. “And meet me back here at four thirty for the afternoon feed.”
“Sick. But, like, what should I do in the meantime?” he called after me.
“Find a pair of boots and muck some stalls… dude,” I called back.
I refused to look toward the rental car in search of Tully. Instead, I headed straight up to my apartment in hopes of finding food I could serve a toddler. Was Lellie allergic to gluten? Would she choke on strawberries? Could the internet possibly help keep me from accidentally killing her with lunch?
Thankfully, Tully was already there, and he’d unpacked the little booster seat we’d bought for the kitchen table. After I set Lellie down and she toddled over to him, he picked her up and got her buckled in. “Your new hand seems like a helpful guy,” he began. “My dude.”
I saw the twinkle in his eye and grunted in response. “Helpful if you need to lose track of your herd, maybe. Or find spiritual enlightenment with the help of exotic mushrooms.” I closed my eyes and exhaled. “It’s my own fault.”