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The riders behind her looked as tired, worn, and miserable as she was feeling—with grimaces and downcast faces. She tucked her chin and kept riding forward, staying as close to the trees as she could to protect the group. Rex put his head down, pressing onward like a trooper. Her pack horse followed, equally obedient and soaked.
The hailstorm diminished after several minutes, and Beth dared to raise her head and look back. There were still a few frowns, but murmurs of conversation lifted above the squeak of leather and thud of hooves.
She couldn’t read anything more than focus and drive on Grayson’s face, but if she looked hard enough, sunshine cut the blackened sky along the horizon, offering the hope of a dry afternoon.
If only the slate-gray clouds overhead would yield a little relief for the time being.
Forty minutes later, the trail widened, the forest surrendering the picnic shelter from the spruce and pine. It had a fire break cut around it—enough of a clearing to give them room to easily gather.
It was like they’d finally reached the Promised Land. A land of dry clothes and a warm fire. A chance to redeem the whole day.
Sunshine split the clouds, offering the assurance of a dry spell.
Hallelujah.
She expected the riders were ready to get their saddle-sore backsides off their horses too.
She turned her face to the sun, relishing the golden glory of it.
“Look at that!” Colleen pointed in the opposite direction. It was the first glimmer of excitement she’d seen or heard from their riders since the monsoon had begun.
Beth turned. A vivid rainbow arced across the sky.
Ah. God hadn’t forsaken her. Hadn’t abandoned her.
She rode Rex to the side of the clearing, giving the other riders room to pass.
Oh boy. She sure hoped dry weather and a warm fire could brighten their spirits.
Grayson brought up the rear with the other pack horses. Hopefully those panniers were waterproof too.
“Okay, everyone, we’ve had quite an adventure since last night’s storm rolled in. We’ll dismount, and if you can hold your horses for a few minutes, that’ll give Grayson time to set up new highlines where the horses will be tied. They’ll be up under those trees”—she pointed to a spot uphill from the shelter—“so they can dry out and take a break too.”
She sought confirmation from Grayson, and he gave her an encouraging nod. “He and I will help you untack your horses again.”
Her words were met with silence and soggy-headed nods. Only a few halfhearted smiles.
So much for their immersive family camp ride. She had to find a way to salvage this mess.
“Once that’s done, we’ll head under the shelter and have lunch and dry out by the fire.” Beth hopped down from Rex and led her two horses to Grayson.
“You are a rock star.” Grayson dismounted. “I thought your idea was a little crazy, but this is a good spot.”
“You think so?” Something about the confidence and pride in his eyes made her go a little mushy inside.
The picnic shelter was a broad wood structure. Weathered and worn to gray, but it had a solid north wall with a large brick fireplace built into it, including a brick hearth. The other three sides were open, and the span of it held two broken picnic tables and three mostly solid—if bird poop covered—additional picnic tables.
Hopefully they could find a makeshift tablecloth or two in the panniers.
“I do.” He unpacked the highline from his saddle bag, and she took his lead lines for the pack horses and Mav.
Grayson smiled, and that was enough to warm her from the inside out. “Once they can all dry out and eat, everyone will come out of their funk.”
“Exactly. We can do this.”
He grinned at her, the weight of the storm lifting. “We’ve survived a flood and hailstorm today. I’m thinking you can do anything you set your mind to.” He wrapped her in a hug, and she leaned into his strength.
Together, they were pretty much undefeatable. No storm was going to spoil their fundraiser.
