Page 12 of Stables Spurs Suits
“Well, aren’t they players?”
“I guess so,” he chuckles, and we get back to clearing the grass from the trail, slower now that we’re keeping an eye out for more of the Indigo Buntings.
I catch sight of the male about ten minutes later, and then Atlas spots another female on the other side of the trail. Their song is kind of like the sparrows we’d get every now and again in the city. It’s prettier than the coos of the pigeons that normally frequent the windowsills back home.
When we finally get to the end of the section we’d plotted out, I drop the scythe to the ground and plonk down on the grass beside it, stretching my fingers in and out, feeling the stretch and sting of the blisters as I try not to wince at the pain.
“Harder than it looks, huh?” Atlas asks, resting his scythe on the cut grass beside mine like he’s setting down a valuable antique.
“Are your hands still vibrating too?” I ask, and he chuckles and sits beside me. I instantly get a lungful of his delicious musk scent.
He turns his hands over in front of him, the calluses on his palms catching the filtered light.
“A little.”
“Do you think we’ll get this side done today?” I ask.
“Maybe. I guess it depends on how deep we go. Pass me the map.”
I hand over the tablet, and he zooms out.
“I’m thinking we continue up this way until about maybe here, then we can start wrapping around.”
If we do that, we’ll completely miss the creek I saw on the other maps. You can’t see it on the tablet, with the tree cover sodense, but I’m not sure I should say anything. It’s not like he’s wanted to hear any of my ideas for this place. Though he was pretty keen to know how I could pet Loki. Maybe. Fuck it.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a creek about here,” I say, leaning in to point it out on the map. My shoulder rests against his, and heat floods through my shirt and travels up my arm.
“Beaker Creek is on the other side of the property,” he says, and I nod.
“I know. This isn’t that big one, it’s smaller, and looked like it came down along this way,” I say, tracing the path on the map for him to see.
“I don’t remember seeing a creek out on this side of the land last time I was out here. Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. It was on a map they used when the Royals place was up for sale. If we take the trail deeper, it could be really pretty for the guests, break up the scenery a little, you know, so they’re not just riding through trees.”
He makes a sort of hmm noise as he zooms in on the digital map in the location I pointed out.
“I guess we can check it out,” he says, and my chest swells.
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not. If you’re right, it would be a good spot to stop to give the horses a drink too. Come on, let’s go,” he says, climbing to his feet.
“You want to check it out now?”
“You got better things to do?”
“No, I just thought… Never mind,” I say, and I stand and go to pick up my scythe.
“Leave it. No point cutting the way if we end up not going that way for the trail.”
“Oh, right, yeah, good point,” I say, and he holds out the tablet.
“Go on, then, lead the way to your creek.”
I take us through the trees toward where the creek should be. The ground slopes down, making the walk easier, though what goes down will have to eventually come back up at some point, and given my thighs are already burning from bracing my body to swing the scythe for the last hour, I’m not particularly excited about the walk back.
The deeper we go, the more I know Atlas has to be losing trust that this creek is even there. In truth, even I’m starting to wonder if I remember the maps correctly. I’m about to give up when I hear the faint trickle of water up ahead.
