The Ranch

“I'll be sure to do that,” Zoe said, rolling her eyes, and Mary Stuart shepherded them all to the corral. They were the last to get there, and when they arrived, Tanya's appearance once again made a huge sensation. There were whispers, people staring at her, kids shoving each other and pointing fingers. A couple of people snuck photographs, but she turned away from them artfully and quickly. She didn't mind posing for photographs with fans from time to time, but she didn't want the intrusion on her private life, and she was definitely “off duty.” The Star Is Out, she whispered to Zoe. But both of her friends were good at blocking people's view of her, and the three-some huddled discreetly in a remote corner, while the woman in charge of the stables called out names, to match people with horses. The night before they had all filled out forms, absolving the ranch of liability, and explaining the extent of their ability and experience with horses. Tanya had written down Advanced/Hate them/Will ride only intermediate level with friends. Both Mary Stuart and Zoe were only fair riders. Mary Stuart had more experience, but she hadn't ridden in years, and she had only ridden English. Zoe had ridden several times, but not recently, and none of them was anxious to prove anything. They just wanted to go on easy trail rides. And the ranch had already explained that there were too many guests at the moment to send them out without other guests, but Tanya said she didn't mind that. If it got too difficult because they hounded her or took constant photographs, or she didn't like the people they chose, she could always opt to stop riding. But she was willing to try it for the moment.

As it turned out, their names were among the last to be called, and there were only three other guests left beside them. The head of the corral came over and talked to Tanya personally, as a tall wrangler with dark hair led her horse out.

“We wanted to let the crowd thin a little bit to give you some air,” Liz Thompson explained to her. She was a tall, lanky woman with a weathered face and a powerful handshake, somewhere in her mid-fifties. “I didn't think you needed to have fifty people taking photographs while you got your feet in the stirrups,” she said sensibly, and Tanya thanked her. “I noticed on your card you're not a horse lover,” she smiled, “I think we have a nice old guy for you here.” For a minute, Tanya wondered if she meant the horse or the wrangler, but it was obvious from the man adjusting the saddle for her that it was not the cowboy. He looked about forty years old, and he had a powerful build and broad shoulders. But when he looked at her, she saw that he had an interesting, weathered face, and he was eyeing her with interest. If you looked at him for a while, he was almost good-looking. His cheekbones were a little too broad, his chin too prominent, and yet it all fit together right, and he had a drawl similar to her own, and when she asked, he said he was from Texas. But they were from opposite ends of the state, and he didn't seem inclined to pursue the matter further. Most people tried to find some common ground with her. He was only interested in saddling up her horse, adjusting the stirrups for her, tightening the girth for her again, and getting the others mounted. And as soon as she settled on Big Max, as her horse was called, he left her. The only way she knew the cowboy's name, since he hadn't introduced himself, was when she heard one of the other wranglers call him. His name was Gordon.