A Cowboy in Manhattan. Barbara Dunlop

you?”

      “It’s …” Katrina struggled for the right words. “Intimidating.”

      “I don’t see why.” Mandy urged Katrina down a side aisle.

      “Of course you don’t. You’re like Ms. Super-Rancher.”

      Mandy laughed while she pushed open a door, and the sunlight flooded through. “You make a bigger deal about everything than it has to be. You always have.”

      “I do not.” Katrina stopped short, unease shooting through her.

      They’d walked outside into a large, green field, fences in the far distance. It was dotted with horses, in ones and twos, heads down, grazing.

      “I won’t let them get you,” Mandy assured her.

      “I’m not in the mood for an intervention.” At her mother’s insistence, Katrina was here to touch base with her family. But she wasn’t here to conquer her fears and become a better human being.

      “We’re just walking. It’s nicer out here than it is in the barn.”

      “In the barn, they’re all behind fences.”

      “If they attack, I’ll throw myself in front of you.”

      “Funny.” Mandy might be taller and heavier than Katrina, but it was still a hundred-odd pounds against two-thousand. If a horse went rogue, Mandy wouldn’t be able to save her.

      Mandy turned so they were headed along the fence line, and Katrina felt a little better. At least there was a handy escape route if they needed one.

      “So, what’s the deal with you and Reed?”

      Katrina stumbled on a clump of grass. “Huh?”

      “Everything was fine last night.”

      “Everything was fine this morning, too.”

      Mandy crammed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I know Reed very well. We were like brother and sister for the ten years Caleb was away. He’s mad at you, and I’d like to know why.”

      Katrina shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”

      “He won’t answer.”

      “Then I guess we’ll never know.”

      Mandy shook her head. “What makes you think you can start lying to me now?”

      “Practice.”

      “Katrina. Seriously. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you.”

      Katrina counted to ten inside her head. She knew she should say something innocuous and noncommittal, brushing off the comment and moving on. But some obstinate corner of her brain compelled her to speak up. “Maybe it’s because you don’t.”