Iris
By the time we return to the ranch house, my legs feel like jelly. I never realized horseback riding would use so many muscles that I didn''t even know I had. Arthur and Miles, of course, seempletely unaffected, which is annoying but also very unsurprising.
"Did you see how fast Thunder went, Mommy?" Miles chatters as Arthur helps him down from the horse. "We were flying!"
"You most certainly were not flying," I reply, grimacing slightly as I slide off of Buttercup''s back with the ranch hand''s
assistance. My thighs scream in protest as my feet make contact with the floor. "And I''m very d about that."
The ranch hand chuckles. "You did great for your first time," he says while he begins loosening the girth on his horse''s saddle. The horse lets out a huff of relief. "Most beginners don''t make it through a two-hour trail ride."
"I''m pretty sure I only made it because I was too scared to fall off," I mutter, but I''m secretly a little proud of myself. After the
initial terror wore off, I actually enjoyed parts of the ride-especially seeing that magnificent wolf.
The memory of her golden eyes meeting mine still sends a shiver down my spine. I''m still debating painting her, but... I''m not
sure yet. Maybe a sketch just for me would be okay.
Once we''ve thanked the ranch hand and seen the horses safely returned to the stables, Arthur announces he''s going to fire up the
grill for dinner.
"How does steak sound?" he asks, already rolling up his sleeves.
Miles jumps up and down. "With french fries?"
"With whatever you want, buddy," Arthur says, ruffling his hair.
I settle into one of thefortable rocking chairs on the back porch, a ss of iced tea in hand, and watch as Miles runs wild
across the expansivewn. I''ll never understand his boundless energy, but it''s nice to see him have some space to really run
without the worry of passing cars.
Arthur tends to the grill on the stone patio, asionally ncing up to check on Miles. The sight of him with his sleeves pushed
up, a white apron on that says "Kiss the Chef", and his hair tousled by the breeze makes my heart do funny little flips in my chest
I can imagine countless vacations just like this one: Miles growing taller each year, learning to ride his own horse, exploring mountains, swimming in theke we passed earlier. Arthur teaching him to fish, to build a campfire, to identify the
constetions in the clear northern sky.
Me, finally finding the courage to tackle Buttercup solo, maybe even enjoying it someday.
And that wolf... does she have her own pups? Will we get to see them grow up? That would be magnificent.
Dinner is a lively affair, with Miles recounting every detail of our trail ride as if Arthur and I hadn''t been there rselves. The steaks are perfect-Arthur really does cook the best meat-and even the simple sd and fries I threw toger taste better in the
fresh mountain air.
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After we eat, Arthur builds a small fire in the firepit, and we roast marshmallows as the sun sets behind the mountains. Miles gets sticky melted sugar all over his face, hands, and somehow even in his hair, which warrants an emergency bath before bedtime.
By the time we tuck him in, he''s practically asleep already, worn out from the day''s adventures. I brush the hair off his forehead and nt a kiss there, marveling as I always do at how much he looks like his father when he sleeps.
Arthur and I tiptoe out, leaving his door cracked just enough that we''ll hear if he wakes up in the middle of the night.
"Want to stargaze?" Arthur asks softly.
I nod, and we make our way back outside. The night has grown chilly, so Arthur grabs a nket from the living room. We settle onto the porch swing, the nket wrapped around our shoulders, my head resting against him as we gaze up at the star-strewn sky.
Without the light pollution of the city, the stars are breathtaking-countless glittering points of light against an inky ck darkness. I spot Orion, the Big
Dipper, and a few other constetions I remember from our previous trips here.
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