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Meadow recognized it, and now she knew why the interruption had bothered Dal. He and the florist . . . She cut off the thought.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said, and hung up.
She put the phone in her pocket and trudged down to the barn, where one of the older cowboys was sitting.
“Have you seen Snow, Harry?” she asked hopefully.
He looked up. “No, ma’am. Well, not since this morning, anyway. She was playing in the snow. Loves the outdoors, don’t she?”
“Yes, she does.” She fought tears. “I can’t find her. I thought she might be at Dal Blake’s place, but he hasn’t seen her either.”
“Suppose we saddle up a couple of horses and go looking?” he asked gently.
She almost fell on him in gratitude. “Could we?”
“Gonna be hard on your legs, you not used to riding and all.”
“I wouldn’t care if it broke them, if I can just find my dog,” she said, and had to fight tears.
He saw that anguish and understood it. “She’ll be all right. Probably just wandered off after a rabbit.” He got up. “I’ll saddle the horses.”
“Harry, thanks,” she said huskily.
“Ma’am, any of us would do anything we could for you,” he said gently. “We’ll find your dog.”
He went off to saddle the horses. Meadow stood in the snow that was up almost to the top of her boots and shivered in her thick coat. She was wearing a wool hat that should have repelled the wetness, but it seemed to soak it up. She’d even forgotten her gloves. Well, she’d manage. She had to find Snow!
Harry led out two horses, both geldings. He gave the older of the two to Meadow by the reins. “He’s old and gentle. He won’t throw you. His name is Mickey,” he added with a grin.
“Hello, Mickey,” she said, patting his mane. “Don’t toss me, okay?”
The horse lifted his head and looked at her with big, brown eyes.
“He’s sweet,” she said.
“Yes, he is. Let’s go.”
She mounted up and rode behind Harry as they started down the ranch road that led past the sheds where the pregnant cows were kept in bad storms, past fenced pastures where huge round bales of hay were protected from the elements in plastic bags.
“They look like giant marshmallows,” she commented.
“So they do. It keeps the hay from rotting, though,” he replied. “Not a bad thing.”
“Not at all.” She rode up beside him. “Harry, doesn’t Mr. Smith trap animals for fur?”
“Yes, he does.” That thought had occurred to him, too. “Want to ride down by his place?”
“I would.”
“Okay then. It’s this way.”
He turned off the trail and eased his mount up a small rise, looking back to make sure Meadow was following.
Her legs were already sore and her hands were freezing, but the only thought in her mind was that she had to find her dog.Oh, Snow, she thought miserably,please, howl, bark, do something to let me know where you are! I can’t lose you. I can’t!
Harry noted her worried expression. He had the same thought she did, that Snow might be caught in a trap. If she was, and they couldn’t find her . . . Well, it was better to think positively.
“I wish we had more people looking,” he commented. “All the men are out checking on cattle, except me.”
