Page 66 of The Wilder Widows

Madeline tipped her hat as we pulled up. “You ladies getting comfortable up there?”

“Yep,” I answered.

“Good. We got about fifteen miles of rough terrain to cover. Your jobs are to keep moving along the side of the cattle, making sure none of ‘em wanders off. If you see one make a break for it, don’t run after it yourself. Just holler up to us, and one of us will go retrieve it.”

“Got it,” I answered, and the Wilder Widows all nodded their understanding.

“Now, just kick back and enjoy the ride and keep an eye on those cattle. Holler if you need anything.”

I spun Whip away and fell in line on the flank of the sea of colorful cattle moving beside me. Their rainbow of earth tones blended together, and I had to blink periodically to make out the different longhorns in the herd. A small calf trotted up beside me before bucking wildly for a moment and racing back to his mother’s side. The little creature made me smile, and I tossed up a grateful prayer that those widows had knocked on my door that day.

Instead of spending my days alone in my quiet house after Bruce died, I was on the adventure of a lifetime. I was finding myself again, stepping back in time to reintroduce myself to the girl I once was. The one before the big job, the child, the husband. The one who laughed with her whole body and dreamed big. The one who loved freely and with her whole heart.

Our ride took us over terrain more beautiful than I could have imagined. Whip followed the herd across the river, and I stopped to take a mental picture of the small waterfall spraying along the rocks. Mountains stretched up in the horizon casting long shadows over the grassland. Even the sky looked bluer here. The girls were unusually quiet while we rode. Each of us seemed to be tongue-tied by the surrounding sights. Only Doris chattered away the whole time, laughing and talking with Axel while she rode up ahead at his side.

All of us had changed on this journey, but Doris had blossomed more than I’d expected. When she’d first knocked on my door, someone’s grandmother had stood there. But now, the woman on that horse, flirting and giggling beneath the gaze of a handsome cowboy, was so much more than just a grandmother. She was beautiful and alive. Free to be herself for the first time in her life. I was proud to have been at her side while she broke down the barriers holding her back. Broke through the loneliness I knew I would have experienced had I not had the Wilder Widows waiting on my doorstep.

“We got a runner!” Joe, one wrangler, shouted. A cow bolted past us and headed for the hills to our west. Before I could blink or call up for help, Marge screamed, and I spun to see her gripping her horn tight while Cochise barreled across the grassland after it.

“Holy cripes!” she hollered, her voice fading with the increasing distance between us.

Madeline started toward us, but she was far off on the other side of the herd, and that meant I was the closest. “Marge!” I shouted, spinning Whip toward her and kicking him forward. Alice appeared at my side, Lady’s long strides keeping up with us as we raced behind Marge.

“Pull on the reins!” I screamed, but the wind carried my voice away. “Marge! Pull back!”

Marge yanked on her reins, but Cochise shook his head, pinning his ears as he raced after the rogue cow. Bouncing and flailing, Marge screamed while she clung to her saddle, giving up her fight to stop the runaway horse.

“Hold on, Marge! We’re coming!” Alice screamed, and I saw her riding skill shine through while she and Lady launched over a fallen log. It may have been a lot of years since she’d been on the back of a horse, but she had a natural riding ability I would have killed for.

Cochise swung wide, circling back in front of the cow. Determination burned inside his mottled eyes as he charged toward it. Marge screamed again when he went low, spinning on his hocks and cutting off the cow’s attempt to escape again. Again and again, Cochise spun and cut, each time sending the cow back toward the herd.

“Just keep holding on, Marge!” Alice called, trying her best to steer Lady up beside them. But Cochise’s quick movements were impossible to predict, and every time Alice reached for their reins, he spun and loped away again.

Finally, the cow gave up his rebellious run, spinning on his hoof and galloping back to the herd. Cochise chased him for several seconds before realizing his job was done. As fast as he started, he slammed on the brakes, sending Marge slamming into the leather horn.

“Ugh!” she grunted when it collided with her stomach. Puffing hard, Cochise pulled the reins from her hands, lowering his head and going back to munching on the grass.

“Marge! Are you okay!” I rode up to her side, reaching down and snagging the reins in my hands.

“Cripes! This thing is insane!”

“Are you hurt?” Alice asked, huffing herself while she pulled up on the other side, sandwiching the horse between us.

“No. Not hurt,” Marge sputtered, and slowly the color returned to her face. As it came back, her shoulders started shaking. Thinking she was about to cry from the fear of her harrowing experience, I reached out to touch her shoulder. But instead of sobs, laughter floated out of her mouth. A rough, raspy laugh filled the charged air around us, and tears started flowing down her cheeks.

“Did you see me?” She sputtered between oxygen-stealing laughter. “I was like John fucking Wayne!”

The contagious laughter swept over me, and I started laughing with her. Alice followed suit, and soon matching tears streamed down our cheeks.

“John fucking Wayne!” Marge rolled with laughter.

“Well,” Alice said, gasping for breath to form words. “Cochise was John Wayne’s horse, so it only makes sense.”

When Madeline arrived, she and her horse huffed for breath, and I saw the concern tightening her face soften at the sight of us clutching our sides in stitches.

“Everyone okay?” she asked.

“We’re fine. Everything is fine,” I answered, struggling to catch my breath.