High Country Cowgirl

Bonita took a small sip of her wine. She seemed a little more relaxed and if he had counted correctly, she was on her third glass. She said, “Janice is crazy. I love that about her.”

Looking straight ahead, Gabe nodded with a little smile. “She’s a nut, that’s the truth.”

“You’ve known her a long time.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

“A long time.”

His companion took another sip of the wine before she said, “The way she is with her ex, you’d think they were still a couple.”

Janice had invited her ex-husband, Gary, for dinner, along with a group of friends, all from the same horse community that Gabe hadn’t seen in a long time. Gary was a solid horse trainer in his own right and Janice still regularly referred her clients to him if they had a horse with training concerns.

“They’re much better friends than spouses.”

“That’s rare.”

He nodded. He’d never managed to stay friends with his exes. For him, once it was over, it was time to move on. It had been quite a while since he’d had to move on from a woman, though. He’d managed to fill his life with his horses. The last time he had to move on had broken his heart good and proper.

“I love the barn at night,” Bonita mused quietly. “Don’t you?”

He glanced at Bonita’s profile. It was his favorite time in the barn. In that moment, Gabe realized that he was enjoying sitting in the barn with Bonita a little too much. Instead of answering, he stood up.

“I’m going to turn in. We’ve got a long stretch tomorrow. I want to leave by four.”

His client’s sleepy eyes opened wide as she looked up at him. “In the morning?”

He nodded.

“That means I have to get up at three?”

“If it takes you an hour to get ready, then I suppose so.”

Bonita frowned.

“I want to get to our next stop by late afternoon. That’ll give Val plenty of time to stretch out his legs.”

Still frowning, Bonita asked, “Where’s our next destination?”

“I have Val booked for a stall in a facility in Grimes, Iowa.”

“Iowa,” she repeated so morosely that it made him smile. “How many hours to Grimes?”

“Ten,” he told her. “Today was a short day.”

“It didn’t feel short.”

“It was.”

They stared at each other for a second or two before Gabe broke the eye contact and waved his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey...”

He turned back to her.

“Do you mind if I keep Tater with me tonight?”

He couldn’t believe how long it took him to process that question. He was just used to having Tater with him.

“Sure,” he finally said. “If it’ll make the night better for you.”

“Gracias.” Bonita said, the word of thanks rolling off her tongue in a way that sounded mighty pleasant to his ears.

“De nada.” His you’re welcome came out stilted and heavily accented, but it made her smile, and he liked to see that smile.

With one final nod to his client, he left the barn and headed out to the rig. He planned on taking a quick shower, climbing into the sleeping bunk above the front cab and getting at least eight hours of shut-eye. He was lucky that he could fall asleep on a dime, and now that he didn’t have to worry about walking around the rig in his boxers, he could get comfortable and get down to the business of sleeping.

* * *

Morning came too early for Bonita. Soon after Gabe gave her the bad news about her three o’clock wake-up time, she finished her wine, made sure Tater had one last visit to a grassy spot on the lawn, said good-night to her new friends and then retreated to the guest room. After a long, hot shower and going through her nightly routine of brushing her teeth and putting on her face creams and brushing all the tangles out of her waist-length hair, as she always did, she called her parents to say good-night.

“I have to get up at three o’clock in the morning,” Bonita complained to her father. No matter how far into adulthood she got, she still went to her dad for comfort when life seemed unfair.

“And I’ll be subjected to another ten hours of country music, which feels like a form of torture.”

“I don’t even know why you insisted on going,” her father said. “I told you I trusted the man.”

“I know,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t.”

“How about now? You’ve spent the day with him. What’s the verdict?”

Bonita knew exactly what her father was driving at. He wanted her to admit that she was wrong.

“He seems competent,” she admitted, not saying the words you were right, I was wrong.

“Then come home now,” George suggested. “You’re right there near Columbus. I’ll send my pilot to come pick you up. There’s an executive airport there—I’ve used it before. If you’re not happy, come home.”

Yes, she didn’t want to get up at three o’clock in the morning. Who did? And, yes, she dreaded the hours of monotonous highway and basting in the music of every country artist known to mankind, but it hadn’t occurred to her—not once—to throw in the towel.

“I’m not unhappy.”

“You could have fooled me, mi corazón.”

Did she want to take her father’s offer and bail on the trip? Gabe was more than competent. He knew how to handle horses, that was easy to assess after a day. The way he handled a flighty, excitable horse like Val had been impressive.

“I’m just talking.” She backpedaled a bit. “Val is my horse. I’m responsible for him now. I’m going to stick it out. This is far from the worst experience I’ve ever had to go through.”

After those words, they both were silent and Bonita knew exactly what her father was thinking: her mother’s illness was the worst thing either one of them had ever gone through and the worst was yet to come.