High Country Cowgirl. Joanna Sims

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ horse, and Bonita hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come.

      “We’re all going to miss you here.” Candace stepped back after they hugged tightly. “But as soon as you’re ready for me, I’ll come to you.”

      “Ready?” Gabe had left them for a moment but returned much too quickly. Saying goodbye to Candace meant closing a chapter of a life she had loved dearly.

      Bonita nodded, blinking hard several times to stop tears from welling in her eyes. She leaned down to pick up her small suitcase, but Gabe beat her to it. With her suitcase in one hand, the cowboy opened up the side door to his rig, a door that led into the living area, and nodded for her to go up the small flight of stairs.

      “I’ll just put your bag right here for now.” Gabe tucked her suitcase into one of the cabinets that lined the wall.

      Her arms crossed in front of her body, Bonita said, “That’s fine.”

      Her plan was unfolding perfectly, and yet she hadn’t accurately imagined what it would feel like to be alone with Gabe, a virtual stranger. It felt, as it turned out, awkward and odd.

      “You’re welcome to ride back here,” Gabe said, his body stiff. She guessed that he was feeling as uncomfortable as she was by her decision to hijack the trip. “Catch you a nap if you want.”

      “I have to ride up front,” she explained. “Car sickness.”

      She didn’t imagine it—he looked pretty disappointed by that bit of news.

      “Well,” Gabe said slowly. “Tater usually rides up front with me.”

      Tater, having heard her name, gave one, high-pitched bark.

      So Bonita wasn’t the only passenger. A lover of all animals, her awkwardness temporarily forgotten, Bonita walked past the cowboy to the front of the rig. The moment she saw the little dog, she felt happy. She wasn’t alone with Gabe—they had Tater!

      “You have a Chihuahua?”

      “That’s Tater,” he said. “Be careful. She’s old and she can get snappy every now and again.”

      Bonita ignored the warning and scooped up the little dog into her arms. “Please,” she said to him. “We are both Mexican Americans. We are destined to get on.” To Tater, she asked, “Tu hablas español, mi perrita?” Bonita smiled at Gabe. “I asked her if she speaks Spanish.”

      He adjusted his cowboy hat to sit a bit farther back on his head. She could see his eyes better, and she was struck by how clear and bright those eyes really were.

      “She knows uno, dos and tres. I didn’t teach her four, on account of the leg.”

      For the first time that day, Bonita truly felt like laughing. So the cowboy had a sense of humor. That could make the trip a little more interesting. “That was probably the right thing to do,” Bonita agreed. “What happened to your leg, little one?”

      “That’s just how God made her.”

      “Well—she’s perfect.”

      Tater had managed to break the ice between the cowboy and her. Bonita took her place in the passenger seat, buckled up and then put the dog in her lap.

      Gabe got himself situated behind the wheel of the large rig and cranked the engine. On the dashboard, a screen turned on and a live video feed of her horse appeared.

      “This way, we’ve got eyes on him the whole trip,” Gabe said. “We’ll be stopping in Columbus, Ohio, for the night...give his legs a rest.”

      Bonita watched the horse on the screen, still in awe that he was actually hers, as they slowly made their way to the gate. As the gate swung open, she looked at the equestrian complex she had called home in the side view mirror, feeling nostalgic for another time, when her mom was healthy and she was under the illusion that nothing in her life could go wrong. That’s how it had been while she was riding here. It had been an idyllic life and it was over. Now she knew that plenty could go wrong. In fact, her whole world could shatter with one diagnosis.

      “I hope you like music.” Gabe switched on the radio.

      She did like music. All kinds. Reggae, classic rock, salsa, jazz—she liked virtually all genres of music. The one kind of music she couldn’t stand? Country. What did Gabe play for the entire seven hours it took to get to their first stop? Country.

      Bonita tried several different strategies to cope with the onslaught of her most hated genre of music: listening to her own music with her earbuds, striking up a conversation with the cowboy, counting telephone poles, scrolling through her social media, texting friends and mindful meditation. She even contemplated braving a bout of motion sickness by escaping to the back, but the thought of losing her lunch in Gabe’s super expensive Equine Motorcoach made her think better of it. Instead, she sat in stoic silence, internally cursing all country singers and over-petting poor Tater’s head. The only reprieve she got was when they had to stop for fuel and a bathroom break for the Chihuahua.

      “Do you need anything?” she asked before heading into the convenience store.

      “No. I’m good. Once I’m done filling up, I’m gonna check on Val before we take off again.”

      Bonita dawdled in the convenience store. She knew Gabe was probably ready to roll and she just couldn’t quite bring herself to hurry. She had physically shaken her head in the bathroom in an unsuccessful attempt to get Blake Shelton out of it. By the time she left the store with her soda, something she promised she wouldn’t drink on the trip, and a candy bar, something she promised herself she wouldn’t eat on the trip, Gabe had the rig parked near the exit. He was definitely waiting on her.

      “How is he?” she asked as she climbed into the rig, juggling her drink and candy bar.

      “Good.”

      He was annoyed.

      “Buckle up.” He already had the engine cranked. “We’re on a schedule.”

      She took Tater from him, settled the dog on her lap and then she did buckle up, but she did it rather slowly. He might be annoyed with her, but she was the one who had to marinate in Johnny Cash for heaven only knew how much longer.

      “How much longer do we have?” she asked over the music.

      “Just shy of an hour.”

       ¡Ay Dios mio! ¡Por favor, no mas musica!

      She prayed to God to make the music stop. Her prayers were not answered and ol’ Johnny kept on singin’. She had thought several times to ask him to turn the music off for a bit, yet she was acutely aware of the fact that she was the one crashing this party. She hadn’t trusted him with nearly a million dollars of her father’s money—that was the truth. But crashing the party and making demands was even a step too far for her.

      “I’ve never been to Ohio,” she said, more to herself than to Gabe. For miles and miles, the terrain had been flat, and cows occupied the fields more often than not. Ohio seemed to be as rural and lonely in places as Montana, minus the mountains. Even though she didn’t like the fact that rush hour traffic was slowing them down in Columbus, СКАЧАТЬ