Page 76 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Annie

A weathered wooden sign up ahead marks the Pine Valley Trail, the letters carved deep enough to survive years of rain and cold. The parking area is half full: a couple of trucks, one SUV with a dented bumper, and my car.

I sit there with my hands still on the steering wheel, staring at the tree line like it might offer some kind of reassurance if I give it long enough.

The trees stand tall and close together, dark green needles swallowing light in a way that makes the trailhead look more tranquil than it should.

Like once you step past that first line, the rest of the world stops following.

“Okay,” I murmur, because saying things out loud sometimes makes them feel more manageable. “It’s a trail. Gorgeous, apparently, and a great place to photograph.”

I grab my camera before I can talk myself out of it.

That’s the whole reason I came out here in the first place. To see some beautiful nature… and to forget the past week where my brain has decided to start a highlight reel of bad decisions.

The air hits different the second I step out. Colder, edged with pine and damp earth. It fills my lungs in a way that makes me realize I’ve been breathing too shallow all morning.

Better.

That’s better.

The first stretch of the trail is easy. Packed dirt, covered with pine needles, expanding into wide paths, with plenty of people in sight.

Sunlight filters through the branches in broken lines, catching on dust and leaves and the edges of things I wouldn’t notice if I weren’t looking for them.

That’s the part I like.

Looking for things, framing them, choosing where the focus goes.

I lift my camera and start shooting.

A curve in the bark of a tree that looks almost like a face if you tilt your head the right way. The way the light cuts across the ground in uneven stripes. A cluster of mushrooms pushing up through the dirt like they’ve decided to exist whether the forest asked for them or not.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Each shot brings a smile to my face.

It’s peaceful out here. There’s movement layered under the quiet, wind through the branches, a small creature shifting through the undergrowth, the distant call of a bird I can’t name.

Alive.

That’s what it is.

Alive and uninterested in me, which is ideal.

I move farther down the trail, following the curve as it dips and narrows, the light changing as the trees grow thicker. The sounds from the parking area fade until they’re gone completely, replaced by that peaceful breathing of the forest.

My shoulders loosen a little more.

I stop near a fallen log covered in moss, the green bright against the darker bark, and crouch to adjust my angle.

The light here’s softer, filtered enough that everything looks like it belongs exactly where it is.