Seth said nothing. He had no desire to talk about Ryan with this man.
“Are you two an… item?” Hayes prodded.
Seth forced a smirk. “Figured that was coming.”
Hayes leaned back; arms crossed. “She seems taken with you. Probably because you’re so different from men she knows, no suits, no fancy dinners.”
Seth blinked. He didn’t bother to deny it.
Hayes glanced toward the horses, then reached into his pocket. Seth crossed his arms, sun warming the sleeves of hisflannel shirt. When Hayes attempted to sit on a rock, he nearly fell off, scrambling upright with a groan. Seth bit back a laugh.
“Hope you can move tomorrow,” Seth teased.
Hayes rubbed his backside. “Think I’ll soak later.”
“I’ve got salve,” Seth offered. “Take a jar.”
Hayes nodded and finally fetched his paper, the pages crackling as he thumbed through them. They settled on the sloping bank, golden reeds whispering against their denim-clad legs in the afternoon breeze. Hayes fired questions about soil rotation, forage yields, irrigation, and his pencil poised above his notepad. Seth answered patiently, his fingers occasionally plucking at a reed as he spoke. He recited the same information about the feed that he told Ryan, watching Hayes's neat handwriting fill line after line. Then the questions turned personal, Hayes's voice dropping half an octave as he glanced at Seth.
“Have you ever been married?” Hayes asked.
“What does that have to do with growing feed?” Seth replied evenly.
“Nothing, just curious.”
“I’m not answering personal questions.”
Hayes hesitated. “But—”
“None,” Seth cut in. “We can head back.”
Hayes stood, letting his horse drink. Once she was done, Seth led Clover to the rock, and Hayes clambered into the saddle, face set in a thin line. Seth mounted Zephyr, heart thudding, and they turned away from the pond. The clop of hooves and whisper of reins were the only sounds as they rode back in silence, the late sun gilding their path.
****
After petting Pearl, Ryan set down a metal bucket of cool water, then sprinkled a handful of sweet-smelling oats into afeeding trough. The earthy scent of spent straw and horsehair filled her nose as the mare nuzzled the grain. Ryan slid her palm along Pearl’s velvety neck, feeling the warmth of muscle beneath the coat.
“I’ll miss you, Pearl. You’ve slipped right into my heart, just like your owner,” she murmured, resting her cheek against the horse’s mane. A single tear traced a path down her cheek.
After a final, lingering pat, Ryan pushed open the heavy stall gate. The hinges groaned, echoing down the barn’s aisle of rough timbers and golden straw. She made her way out of the barn, hoping to find Cull. As she stepped outside, sunshine spilled over her face. The vast Montana sky stretched overhead; an endless azure dome pierced by distant snow-capped peaks. Rolling fields of amber grass shimmered in the breeze, and she couldn’t help but smile at the raw, untamed beauty surrounding her. It was warm today and just recently, it had snowed.
“Ma’am?”
Ryan turned to see Micky coming from around a stack of hay bales. He was tall, hat tilted low, dust fanning out from his boots. A faint grin tugged at his lips.
“Hi, Micky. Do you know when Cull will be back?”
“He’s fixing the fence,” Micky replied.
“Yes, he did tell me that. I just… have no clue what to do next.”
Micky tipped his hat. “Seth’s got the walkie-talkie. You can radio him.”
Ryan fished her phone from her pocket. “I have this—”
Micky raised one gloved hand. “Service is spotty out here, ma’am. That’s why we use the radios.”
“Oh. Where do I find them?”
