“Oklahoma—”
“—You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t say it for a reply. I said it because it was true. I was waiting to die, Sugar. The years were long and slow. Especially without my brother. I wasn’t looking forward to spending so many years alone.”
“And now you’ll never have to be alone again.”
Oklahoma presses his hand against a black box attached to a wooden post when we come up to the gate. The scanner flashes green. The gate unlocks and swings open, allowing us entry into the pasture.
He moves to hold the reins in one hand, then wraps an arm around my waist, his hand settling on my stomach.
“I really love the sound of that,” his gravel voice sounds in my ear, and my entire body shivers, the baritone slipping down my spine.
Thunder rolls from up above, and I tilt my head back, settling on his shoulder while the sky calls to me. The weather has been more unpredictable over the last few days. Ruka might not think so, but I have been paying attention. Weather is my life. I tend to notice when supercells come out of nowhere.
And lately, too many of them have been popping up,
Storm clouds have been coming and going all afternoon, the sun barely having moments to peek through. I think sunlight has lost the battle for the day as shade covers the pastures.
“Wow,” I awe.
Van Gogh follows the worn trail, and the fields to the left and right of us have long grass blowing in the breeze. I watchthe motion, the warm air circulating, but not enough to cause a tornado.
To the left are woods, thick with dark depths that hold the unknown. The tall trees stretch towards the sky, the branches swaying with every gust.
Texas longhorn cattle graze to the right of us, mooing as we pass by.
“Harmless,” Oklahoma says, to ease any worry I may have. “I rescued them from a slaughterhouse, too. They won’t charge at us.”
I watch in fascination, the big bodies thick with muscle mosey a few feet to bend down and chomp on grass. Birds fly down and land on their backs, plucking at their skin for any flies.
Not wanting to miss anything from the tour, I turn my head left, and we come up on a pond with ducks. Their musical quacks make me smile. I point to them, and Oklahoma grins, whistling again, and Van Gogh picks up the pace.
I’m not sure how long we’re riding for. We pass sheep, horses, even alpacas, and none of them bother us.
It isn’t until we get to a wide-open space as far as the eye can see that I’m astounded by its beauty. It’s a view out of a movie. Time stands still. The wind breezes, drying the sheen of sweat on my arms.
“Mammatus clouds are moving in. We need to be careful. Did the radar say anything about bad weather?” I ask him.
“What are those?”
“Oh, come on,” I scoff in disbelief. “You know what those are. Your brother was a chaser.”
“Tell me anyway,” he says. “I want to hear and learn everything from you.”
He clicks his tongue, turns the reins to the left, and Van Gogh clobbers the long wheat. There’s an old cabin a few yards away.It’s small and rundown. It’s seen better days. Even from here, I can see the sagging porch and broken beams.
“Come on, Sugar. Tell me everything.”
He tugs us to a stop and hops off Van Gogh. He doesn’t tie him like I expect him to. He slips the harness off, allowing Van Gogh to roam if he wants.
Basket and blanket secure on the porch, he holds out his arms for me. “Come on. I got you.” He widens his stance, and his tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll catch you.”
Right. I need to get down.
“I’m good up here.”
“Nariko.” He gestures his fingers towards him. “Come on. I will not let you fall. Or you can swing your leg over and slide off the saddle. You’ll land just fine, but if you don’t want to, I’ll catch you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I swing my leg over and scream when I launch myself at him. I hit him in the chest so hard, he grunts and stumbles backwards.
