Seven
The next couple days passed in a blur of learning to ride Roughshod, doing ranch-related chores, and generally working myself into exhaustion—while Eddie filmed every last dusty detail. My mother, who always insisted on a cook, a car service, and a housekeeper, would be appalled. Personally, I was too exhausted to be anything but grateful when I walked into the kitchen Thursday morning and Genevieve said that Ty had gone into town, that I had the morning off from cowgirl duty. My muscles did a victory dance.
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I insisted as I followed Genevieve out to her beloved chicken coop an hour later. “I’m just…”
“Not used to it,” she filled in. “I know.”
“Horses and cows are scarce in the New York metro area.” I tightened my palm around the woven basket that wa
