Mountain Mare by Terri Farley

that you forgot?” Lynn asked two middle-aged women who were riding together.
    â€œMosquito repellent,” answered one.
    â€œActually, I could have gotten away with less,” answered the other. “Chaps keep your jeans pretty clean.”
    â€œWhat did you like best about the trip?” Lynn asked a man Sam had spotted earlier. Even in cowboy gear, he looked like an accountant.
    â€œOne thing that I really enjoyed was being able to zone out. I had a job to do, but no responsibilities beyond my horse and me.” He leaned down and patted the neck of a sturdy bay.
    A woman with the skinniest eyebrows Sam had ever seen reined her sorrel gelding over to talk with Lynn. The woman rode better than most of the dudes, and Sam could see a silk scarf tied over her hair, under her hat.
    â€œI read about this in the business news section of the paper, and in the city I only ride maybe once each month. So I signed up to have some quality time with my horse.
    â€œThe first day, I couldn’t help looking at my watch every five minutes, but after I took it off and put it in my saddlebag, I found out Cheyenne here really likes my rendition of ‘I’m an Old Cow Hand.’”
    Lynn thanked her and glanced at the cameraman.
    â€œGot it?” Lynn asked. When he nodded, she suggested, “Why not go up where the cows turn into the parking lot? Catch the girls in front. They’re local and they look great.”
    Sam knew she was smiling when Lynn jogged toward her, not at all out of breath, and gave her a thumbs-up.
    â€œHi,” Sam said. She wanted to say something clever and sociable, but all she could think about was the rollover.
    â€œIt wasn’t old and blue, was it?” she asked hopefully, and Lynn knew exactly what she was talking about.
    â€œNope,” Lynn said. “Old and yellow with Arizona license plates. It’s a”—she flipped back a page of her notebook—“restored 1968 Scout. And hard as it is to believe, there was hardly a scratch on it. According to the sheriff, the driver—a college student—said she was fine. She hitched a ride to town, where she planned to call her boyfriend to come get her.”
    Sam’s shoulders sagged and her chest deflated with her sigh.
    â€œThat is so good,” she said. The words were mild compared to the relief she felt.
    She’d been listening so intently to Lynn, though, she hadn’t heard Ace’s hooves skittering on the asphalt. Now she did, and lifted her reins a little, making contact with his mouth.
    â€œI’m still here, boy,” she said, then she glanced across the herd. She had to tell Jen it hadn’t been Jake’s truck.
    Jen had drawn rein to let a few girls pet Silly’s shoulder. While the palomino basked in the attention, Sam caught Jen’s eye. At once, Jen took in Lynn, then Jen tilted her head to one side. Sam gave her an okay sign.
    Jen’s smile flashed across the herd. She lifted her Stetson above her hair and whirled it around one finger as if she’d throw it skyward.
    That’s the sign of a good friend, Sam thought. She’s celebrating for me, even though she never really shared my fears.
    â€œHer horse seems pretty laid-back about all this,” Lynn said.
    Sam heard the comparison in Lynn’s words, even though it wasn’t exactly criticism.
    â€œAll the Kenworthy palominos have been in parades before,” Sam said. “Sometimes they ride together as a family.”
    â€œAnd your horse never has,” Lynn said.
    â€œHe’s a mustang,” Sam explained. “First he lived on the range and now he lives at River Bend, our ranch. As far as I know, this is the most civilization he’s ever seen.”
    Lynn cast a glance around them and gave a “not bad” nod, then fell back a few yards when Ace side stepped toward her.
    â€œYou’re doing fine,” Sam said, but then, as if to test her