Blazing the Trail (Sunshine & Shadow Book 5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

mane as leverage, she lifted herself smoothly onto
his back, reminded of the last time she had ridden bareback; on Prime Time in
L.A. She urged Chinook forward and rode past the entrance to the barn just as
Kip came out.
    “April!” he called.
    She stopped her horse and
turned to face him.
    “Are you crazy? You can’t
go for a ride at night! There’s a cougar in the area.”
    “So what?”
    April chewed her lip. She
wasn’t planning on going far. And she would avoid the trees anyway, because of
the darkness. She would be fine.
    “I’ll be back soon.” She
turned the horse back towards the driveway.
    “Are you crazy?” Kip
asked, grabbing Chinook’s halter.
    “No, I’m not. Let go of
my horse.”
    “You must have a death
wish. Did you not hear me? There’s a cougar out there—a big one.”
    “And there are wolves,
and probably bears. I’ve ridden these mountains more times than I can count.
And I’ve always come home, haven’t I?”
    Kip didn’t answer. He
also didn’t let go of Chinook’s halter.
    “Kip. You need to let me go.”
    He dropped his hand like
she had electrocuted him. April nudged Chinook forward and passed him. Her leg
brushed against his shoulder but she didn’t stop, urging the horse faster until
he was galloping down the driveway, leaving a trail of hoof-prints in the fresh
snow.
    She felt the wind hit her
cheeks and cause a shiver to travel up her spine. She was glad she had worn her
thick jacket. She zipped it up higher as Chinook slowed and trudged through the
untouched powder towards the creek.
    The moon shone on the
moving water, glistening on the back of each ripple. Snow lined the banks and
April was careful to avoid places where it might be slippery. Chinook was light
and responsive; he always was when she was bareback. These were the times she
truly believed the horse could read her mind; he moved before she asked. An owl
sounded in the trees on the other side of the creek and April smiled; this was
what she had missed in L.A. This feeling of freedom, of serenity.
    A stick cracked to her
left and her head snapped around. Chinook froze, one foot in the air. April
searched the dark brush and couldn’t see anything. She patted Chinook on the
neck and exhaled.
    “It’s alright, buddy.”
    She urged the reluctant
horse forward and they skirted the trees, staying close to the creek, guided by
the moon. April knew they would have to go through one section of forest on the
way back to the ranch and she considered turning around, retracing her steps,
but they were already over halfway, and she was getting cold.
    Chinook snorted and
stopped again. April’s hands began to tremble.
    “Hello?” she called out.
    There was no reply.
    Her eyes searched the
forest again, and came up empty. There was nothing there. She was tense, and
she was transferring the fear to her horse. It was her fault. There was nothing
out there. She repeated this to herself as they rode through the trees, and
slowly, Chinook relaxed. As they stepped under the last low-hanging branch and
into the final meadow before they hit the driveway, April gave her horse his
head.
    Chinook picked up the
pace until he was at a fast lope. His gait was smooth, controlled. April had no
tension on his face, but the horse knew what pace to be at. He loped gently up
the last hill and then they were on the driveway. April sighed. Chinook
snorted, his body shaking beneath her.
    April couldn’t help but
laugh. “Look at us,” she said, “A couple of wimps.”
    She could see the lights
from the barn illuminating the snow and slid from Chinook’s wide back as they
stopped in front. She patted the big pinto on the neck and led him into his
stall. Unclipping the halter, she filled his bucket with fresh water from the
well and closed the barn door behind her, sighing and seeing her breath collect
in the air like fog.
    The lodge lights were off
and she slipped inside quietly, kicking off her frozen boots and hurrying
upstairs to get