“You need more bracelets,” I tell her dryly. “Don’t think the whole ranch knows you’re coming.” Her nostrils flare. “I like my bracelets.” “Yeah, well, they’ll spook the horses.” She squeaks, jumping onto the grass as we approach a rooster pecking his way down the gravel path. I chuckle. The panic on her face could almost be adorable. “Your ancestors hunted mammoths with a spear, honey. You can walk past a rooster.”
