Page 62 of The Wilder Widows

“No one said anything about camping.” Alice spun around and pierced me with a glare.

Giving her a sheepish smile, I chuckled. “Did I forget to mention this was a working Dude Ranch, and cattle drives and camping are part of the experience?”

Narrowing her eyes, her lips faded into a thin white line. “Yes, Sylvie. You forgot to mention that.”

“Oops, I must have forgotten,” I lied.

“I’m feeding you to the pigs,” Alice growled.

“I love camping.” Marge stretched and then sat down on the bed, giving it a bounce while she felt it out. “Fresh air and stars are good for the soul.”

“We think so too,” Madeline said. “Don’t worry. We supply tents, and there will be three home-cooked meals every day. But why don’t you ladies rest for an hour, settle in, and then come out and find me. I’ll finish showing you around, and you can pick out your mounts.”

“Thank you, Madeline.”

With a curt nod, she backed out the door and closed it behind her.

“I love it here!” Doris flopped on the bed beside Marge. “I’ve never ridden a horse or been on a ranch. But I think it’s wonderful!”

Alice only arched a brow and crossed her arms.

“Oh, come on, Alice. At least camping is better than the room in Barcelona, right?” Marge teased.

“I’ll be at the Ritz if you need me.” Alice reached for her bag and lifted it up.

“Okay. Stop.” I demanded but struggled to conceal the laughter. “I ran with the bulls for Marge. I flashed my tits to all of Paris for Doris. I kidnapped a woman for you. Now the least you can do is suck it up and go camping, Princess.”

With a scowl and a long exhale, she dropped her bag. “Fine. But I’m not going to like it.”

“You don’t have to.” I stepped forward and patted her on the shoulder. “But you’ll do it anyway because we’re the Wilder Widows, and we have a pact. And this is something I’ve dreamed of doing my whole life.”

“We’re with you, Sylvie!” Doris stood.

“You know I’m in.” Marge joined her.

Alice huffed another breath. “Fine. I’m in.”

I clapped, stopping just short of jumping up and down. “Yay! We’re going to have so much fun!”

****

After taking a short nap and recovering from the flight from Spain, we pulled out the clothes we’d purchased at the country store on our way here.

“Do I look like a cowgirl?” Doris asked, modeling her jeans, pink cowboy hat, pink plaid shirt, and hot pink cowboy boots.

“Like a real authentic cowgirl,” I lied, and she squealed her excitement.

Marge and I had chosen sturdy brown boots, jeans, muted flannel shirts, and simple cowboy hats. Practical. The kind of outfit Madeline was wearing when we met her. Alice stepped out of the bathroom wearing a stark white cowboy hat, designer jeans, a white button-down blouse, and bright red alligator boots. Her boots alone had cost more than all our outfits combined.

“If I’m going on this stupid cattle drive, I’m going to look damn good doing it.”

Marge snorted. “Yeah, for about five minutes until you fall in a pile of horse shit and ruin your white shirt.”

Glaring at her, Alice strutted out the door. We followed after her, but as we started down the steps from our cabin, Alice skidded to a stop. One by one, we slammed into her, then fanned out, looking to see what caused her abrupt halt.

It only took a second to see what had all of Alice’s attention.

“Holy shit, is that Sam Elliot?” I whispered while I took him in.