Page 53 of Savage Heart

I maneuver Thunder around one of our older cows and show the kids how to let the cattle think it’s their idea to move where we want them to go.

“We’ll start slow. They’ll move with pressure. And once we have them going the right way, we can move a little faster.”

They laugh as I get the cow in line. Between Grady, Cameron, Teddy, Pickle, and me, we could probably handle all these cows and the kids, but we have the rest of the staff out here, including our best wranglers, just so everyone is fully covered.

When it seems like it’s clicking, we get to work.

One of the cows breaks left, and instead of freezing, the kids adjust. They laugh. Dust kicks up under hooves, and the pasture is alive with motion.

Linc rides to my right, focused. He nudges his horse exactly the way I showed him, and when a cow turns back into the group, he looks at me with elation.

The kid loves it out here. And it’s clear that he’s a natural. There hasn’t been anything I’ve thrown at him in the past week and a half that he hasn’t handled like a pro. I’d love to get him out here cutting. He has the instinct to make it work.

We move the herd cleanly through the gate. When the last cow ambles through, the kids erupt in a loud cheer.

We slide off our horses, and Jessie, a nine-year-old girl, throws her arms around my waist without warning.

“Oh, hi,” I say.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever done,” she says into my shirt.

I pat her head awkwardly. “You did great.”

We break for lunch by the creek. It’s sandwiches, chips, bananas, and water—nothing fancy—but the kids inhale it. Then they kick off their boots and wade in the cool water, which started as snowmelt at the top of the mountain. Charlie sits beside me on a fallen log, stealing one of my chips.

“Admit it, you’ve had fun,” she says.

I keep a straight face and watch the kids playing in the water. “It’s been all right.”

She snorts. “I’ve seen you laugh more the past week than I have in a whole year. You know the last time I saw you laugh like that?”

“When?”

“Last year at camp!”

She cracks herself up, and I roll my eyes good-naturedly.

“Whatever,” I mumble.

“Mm-hmm.” She gives me a satisfied grin and goes to hang out with the kids.

When we ride back, Mom is waiting for us with a cooler full of popsicles. She gives Linc a cherry popsicle, and he grins.

“My favorite,” he says.

“I know.” She winks. She glances up and sees me watching them. “Camp legends,” she tells the kids, jerking her thumb at me and Billie because we’re next to her. “Your counselors here learned to ride before they could spell their names.”

“She’s our mom. She likes to brag and exaggerate,” I tease.

“It’s absolutely true, no exaggeration!”

The kids laugh. As the afternoon stretches on, things slow down. Horses get brushed, and saddles are cleaned. Everyone’s tired and happy.

Cameron teaches one kid how to coil a rope, while Grady shows another how to inspect a horse’s hooves.

Linc wanders over with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Do you think I could do this someday?” he asks.

“Own a ranch? If you want to, absolutely,” I say.