The wild mustangs galloped tirelessly through the endless brown grass of the Wyoming countryside. A paint stallion threw his head and bucked as he led the group of mustangs across the wide open range. Beside the wild herd of horses was Misty and a few of her family's ranch hands, atop their horses, keeping the wild horses in line and together in the herd. Clay, one of the hands, hollered for Misty to ride to the right and make sure the herd didn't run into the sharp barbed wire fence. Nodding to Clay, Misty pulled her hat down further over her head, tightened her stampede strings, and spurred her horse faster.

     Pretty soon, Misty was galloping at a ground eating pace beside the stallion leader, who insisted on beating Misty to the fence. Misty had to get the mustang to turn left before he led the herd into the barbed wire fence and to their painful death. Leaning far over her saddle horn, Misty urged her horse faster.

     Misty's gelding sensed the stallion's dominance and a fire roared in his stomach as he ran at a break-neck gallop. Finally, Misty's trusty gelding pulled ahead of the stallion, and turned left with little leg from Misty; he knew his job.

     The stallion, giving in, turned left and the whole herd followed. Misty slowed her horse to a slower gait and put her horse between the herd and the barbed wire fence as she tried to catch her breath. She waved her lariat at any horse that tried to come closer to the fence.

     Once all the horses passed, Clay rode his horse up beside Misty, slowing his horse, too, to match the trot of Misty's horse as they trailed behind the large herd. Smiling, he said, "That was some pretty hard ridin' there. Good job stoppin' them from goin' into the fence."

     Feeling her cheeks heating up, Misty pulled her hat down further over her eyes and looked down at her saddle horn so Clay couldn't see her blush. "Thanks." Was all she said.

     Misty and Clay rode their horses back to the large holding pen where the mustangs were. Every spring, around this time, Misty's family's ranch herds these mustangs, checks them for any serious health problems, giving them any necessary vaccinations, make sure the foals and yearlings are healthy, then set them out free again. Every two years, they choose a set amount of horses to be brought back to the ranch to be trained and adopted.

     Misty rode her horse up next to the large pen and dismounted; she ground tied her well-trained horse. Brushing some dirt off of the front of her shirt, Misty walked to the corral and jumped up on a rail. She smiled when she looked down at all the mustangs that would be safe for another year. Looking back over her shoulder, Misty saw Clay walking towards her. He jumped up on the fence rail beside Misty and said with a smile-

     "Misty, wake up." A shake on Misty's shoulder jerked her awake. Misty opened her eyes and looked around her. Clay was nowhere in sight. Sighing, Misty threw her head back against her pillow. Those blue eyes and charming smile that belonged to Clay were all in her dream. A guy like that would never talk to her.

     Misty McAdams shoved her brother's hand off of her shoulder. "I'm awake, Junior." Misty said to her irritating little half-brother. He always found the most annoying ways to wake her up; at least today he didn't pour ice water on her face. She always woke up, on her own, without hitting the snooze button when her alarm clock buzzed, so she never knew why Junior had to wake her up. Just as she was about to roll out of bed, her alarm clock blared it's beeping. Misty groaned; she despised it when folks woke her up just minutes before her alarm clock buzzed.

    "Today's round-up day, Misty!" Junior said from the side of Misty's bed. He was practically jumping out of his pajamas.

     Misty turned her alarm clock off and scooted to the edge of her bed. "I know it is. Today is your favorite day of the year, isn't it?"

        "Yeah!" Junior responded, then thought about it. "Well, besides my birthday, oh, and Christmas. Christmas is also one of my favorite days of the year."

     "Of course they are, Junior." Misty smiled at her little brother. He could be cute sometimes. Standing up from her bed, Misty ruffled Junior's hair, then said, "Alright, outta my room, I have to get dressed."

     Junior sighed and replied, "Mama said breakfast is in ten minutes."

     "Alright, bud, I'll be down there soon." Misty replied as she walked to her dresser on the other side of her room.

     She watched as Junior ran out of her room and yelled to his mom as he ran down the stairs, "Mom, Misty's awake."

     Misty shook her head and smiled at her brother as she brushed out her long brown hair. Straight, the tips reached her belly button, but when she just left it alone, her natural wavy hair fell to her mid-back. Misty braided her hair carefully and tightly so that little would fall out as she rode in the round-up today. As Misty continued to get dressed for the day, her dream kept playing back in her mind. Clay was a real person; he was one of the McAdams's ranch hands, but the real Clay wasn't like the one in her dream. Clay Montgomery in real life had only said a few words to Misty in the two years that he had worked on the Triple M Ranch, and he showed no affection whatsoever to her. Many of the things that Clay had said to Misty were usually him delegating things or telling her how to do things that she had been doing her entire life...on the ranch that she had lived on for her whole life...the ranch that he was just a hired hand on, but, he was older then her, so she had to listen to his annoying delegating. The only girl Misty had ever seen Clay show any form of affection for was the local barrel racer that everyone knew: Aubrey Lewis. The Lewis family was the richest family in nearly half the state of Wyoming. They own multiple oil refineries all over the country. Aubrey is the most beautiful girl that Misty had ever seen, and Clay, along with all the other guys, obviously think that too. Aubrey is the type of girl who knows she is beautiful and uses that to get any guy she wants.

     Misty looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. "No guy will ever like me." She mumbled. At nineteen years of age, there hadn't been a single guy show any inclination of affection towards Misty. Sure, she had close guy friends, but they never turned into anything beyond friends. They were just pals, buddies, brothers...

     "Misty, sweetheart, breakfast is ready." Misty step-mom, Darlene, called up to Misty from the bottom of the stairs.

     Darlene's voice knocked Misty out of her sad daydreaming and back to reality. "I'll be down in a minute." Misty replied and grabbed a random pair of Wrangler jeans and a plaid pearl snap out of her closet and threw them on. She grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with the essentials for this round-up that lasted about five to seven days on the range. When she was sure she got everything, Misty slipped on her cowboy boots with spurs, and a belt, then grabbed a cowboy hat and made her way downstairs. Once downstairs, Misty set her duffel bag and hat next to the front door so she wouldn't forget to give it to the guy who would drive the truck during the round-up.

     The ranch hands that lived on The Triple M always ate breakfast and supper with the McAdams family; lunch was often skipped by the cowboys because they were still hard at work outside. The remainder of the ranch hands lived off of the ranch grounds and commuted in sometime after breakfast. Bill, Misty's dad, always enlisted the help of two or three of his good buddies to help with the round-up. Those additional men would get to the ranch sometime after breakfast, but definitely before everyone headed out for the round-up, which was usually around seven in the morning.

     Misty helped Darlene and Junior take food out to the table. By the time the table was set, all seven of the Triple M hands that lived on the ranch were comfortably seated around the large table. When Misty made one last trip from the kitchen with the remainder of food, she noticed that her normal seat was being occupied with the newest hired ranch hand. Instead of making a fuss, Misty scanned the full table for an open seat. Coincidentally, the only free seat was right next to Clay. Silently, Misty made her way to the seat next to Clay and sat down, trying hard to pretend she didn't have a dream about him last night. Once she was seated, Bill said above the commotion, "Let's pray."

     Misty hesitated and then held out her hand since the McAdams family always held hands whenever they prayed. Clay slipped his hand into hers. As soon as she clasped his hand, Clay looked over at Misty. It was as if he just realized that someone sat down next to him. "Father God," Bill started the prayer. Clay looked away from Misty and bowed his head, closing his eyes. Misty did the same, but smiled when she felt Clay slightly squeeze her hand as Bill prayed on. "Amen." Bill concluded his prayer some time later. All of the ranch hands and McAdams family said unison, "Amen." Clay squeezed Misty's hand again, then let go.

    Throughout breakfast, Misty tried hard not to think about the man sitting to her right, or how good his calloused, work worn hand felt in hers.

     "Can you please pass the pancakes?" A deep, drawled voice said to Misty. She realized that the voice belonged to Clay. Misty had had a crush on Clay since the first day that he came to work for her dad on the ranch. At the time, Misty was a few weeks shy of seventeen, and Clay was a few years older than she. Two years later, and Misty still didn't know how old Clay was though she figured he was in his early twenties.

     Trying not to blush, Misty reached to her left, grabbing the full plate of pancakes. She had almost successfully given the plate to Clay when her hand lost its grip, causing the heavy plate to tip. Several hot pancakes fell onto Clay's lap. Clay sprung up from his chair like a bullet from a gun, and began wiping remnants of hot chocolate chip pancakes off of his jeans. Misty gasped and tried to form an apology, but no words made it out of her mouth. Several of the ranch hands, who were friends with Clay, tried holding back their laughs, but failed. Clay's eyes glared like lasers at his friends when he growled, through gritted teeth, "It's not funny." Which just made his friends laugh all the more.

     Misty was so embarrassed and she didn't know what to do. She looked to Darlene who sat cattywampus to where Misty sat. Darlene said, just loud enough for only Misty to hear, "Misty, honey, go get the man a wet wash rag, will you?"

     Nodding, Misty made her way into the kitchen to grab a wet towel for Clay. As she rung out the hand towel, Misty thought to herself that she just ruined any slim chance that she had with Clay. No guy would like a girl after doing something as humiliating as what Misty just did to Clay.

     Embarrassment stricken, Misty made her way back out to the dining room where the laughter of Clay's friends had nearly subsided, only a few quiet chuckles here and there remained. Misty handed the damp wash rag to Clay and, without looking at him, said, just above a whisper, "Here's a towel for you." Out of the corner of her eye, Misty saw Clay look at her, but then he looked away when he took the rag from her.

     Misty felt her cheeks and neck flare red with embarrassment as she bent down to clean up the mess on the floor. Clay did the same. They both reached for the same piece of pancake at just the same time and their hands touched. Misty quickly pulled her hand back, and mumbled a quiet apology. When she had a napkin full of pancake, Misty stood up. Coincidentally, Clay did as well and took a step towards the kitchen, just as Misty took a step, causing Misty to collide with Clay and drop her napkin full of hot pancake all over Clay's light blue plaid shirt.

     Clay's friends didn't fail to laugh again. Misty gasped, and her hands flew up to her mouth as she stared at Clay's shirt. "I-I am so sor-" Misty, ridden with embarrassment, fled from the dining room and ran outside. Never again was she ever going to sit next to Clay, hand him anything, or even talk to him ever again, not after what happened today.

     Misty took a look back at the house, but too embarrassed to go back inside, she walked towards the barn, and prayed that she wouldn't have to ride with Clay during the round-up.