Page 64 of Blue Jean Summer

From the other side of the stables, Elvis glared at Maisey. The old barn cat eased off his perch on Elvis’s head, tiptoed along the edge of his stall, then jumped off and leaped over to the edge of Maisey’s stall.

Apparently, an ornery cat was more appealing than carrots. Maisey’s ears popped up. She let out a delighted whinny, then snapped at the cat’s tail.

The cat was faster, dancing edge to edge, skipping across the bottom of the stall, then darting out. The feline parkour twisted Maisey into knots.

It took her a moment to get her bearings before she realized the cat was gone. She huffed and blustered with frustration in those big eyes.

“Is that mean ol’ cat teasing you?” Catherine cooed as she hid the bag behind her back and offered Maisey a single carrot. “You just need some attention, don’t you?”

Maisey craned over the edge of the stall as far as she could and dropped her forehead onto Catherine’s shoulder.

“You’re a sweet girl,” Catherine gushed.

“You remember how to ride?” I asked.

“Do you remember how to tack up a horse?” she countered.

I glanced at Maisey, then at the spare cowboy hat that hung from the wall. It had Savannah’s signature leather branding on the brim—a bespoke “W. W.” for Walt Wilder. I snagged it off the nail and put it on. “I think the better question is, can we get Calamity Jane into the cross ties without her taking us both out.”

—

By some kind of miracle, Maisey was so excited at the prospect of being ridden that she stood still as a statue as I got her fitted with a saddle, saddle pad, and bridle. She was sweet, but I didn’t trust her enough to put Catherine on top of her.

Instead, Catherine rode Elvis while I was on Maisey. We quickly left the stables behind and headed to one of the trails that looped around the foothills.

To my surprise, Maisey trotted pleasantly, trying her best to match Elvis’s gait. Occasionally she would get a burst of excitement and skip like a giddy schoolgirl, making me hold on for dear life. Every time she got the zoomies like a puppy, Elvis would let out a low grunt and glare at her until she fell back in line.

Catherine’s features were serene as we circled the north side of the estate. The mountains loomed to the left and the valley stretched out to the right.

“You ready for tomorrow?” I asked.

Catherine nodded but didn’t look at me. “Everything’s coming together nicely. I think we actually pulled it off.”

“That’s not what I asked, Cath.”

I watched the rock and sway of her hips with each of Elvis’s steps and the rise and fall of her chest with each controlled breath.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted after a long stretch of silence. “And stressed.”

The old hitching post was still where it used to be. Once upon a time, I had spent countless summer days riding out to it, tying off my horse, then hiking up one of the barely marked trails. But that’s not where I wanted to go tonight.

I dismounted and tied Maisey off, hoping Elvis would keep her in check long enough for Catherine and me to make it up to the kissing rock.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she peered down from her perch atop Elvis.

I slid my hand up her denim-wrapped thigh and braced my other hand on the small of her back. “Helping you down.”

“Why?”

“We’re going up to the rock.”

Her brows lifted in the twilight. “It’s still there?”

I let out a laugh. “It’s been there for millions of years, sweetheart. Twenty years is a drop in the bucket.”

Catherine braced her boot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle, landing beside me.

I caught her by the waist before she tipped over.