Jenny threw a curve this week, called it a Shake Up. Hum...will give it a try.
I could smell the chicken scratch, oil tempered wire, and faint scent of leather even before I opened the mesh screen door. One step on the warped board floor inside reminded me I shouldn’t have worn Jimmy Choos. A spike heel on the wrong wave of wood could throw me further than a bucking bronco. I picked my way carefully back to the garden section.
Old Harry, toothless as ever, called from the saddle shop where he was tooling a spiral into the leather. “Find’in whatcha need, Rebbie.
I winced as no one had called me that since I had left the prairie years ago. Years fell away giving me an odd feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, or was that something else. The hair on my neck rose straight up, like a cat’s fur while facing a snarling dog.
When I turned around I was startled to meet a green eyed gaze. The eyes looked hard as two jade stones, and I remembered the fury they could hold. They were part of the reason I left Jensen County. Yet I couldn’t help but notice Jake’s Wranglers fit snugly, loins stretching blue denim like rawhide on a saddle horn.
What would he do next?