"Mornin' sunshine." Clay greeted Misty with a smile the next morning. Breakfast, of some sort, was cooking over the fire, and Clay was manning it, stirring it when necessary. "How'd you sleep?"

     Misty stretched her arms above her head before walking over to the fire to warm her hands in the brisk Wyoming morning air. "I should be askin' you that. You're the one who slept out here with no blanket and your saddle as a pillow."  

     Clay's warm chuckle immediately warmed Misty. But she quickly felt cold as she reminded herself that he was way out of her league. She was nineteen years old, old enough to know better than to have childlike crushes on amazing guys like Clay, especially when she was just an ordinary girl herself. "I slept like a cloud." 

     Clay's comment made Misty chuckle, knocking her out of her pity party. "Do you mean that it was like sleepin' on a cloud, or that you slept like a baby?"

     Clay seemed to think about it for a second. "I reckon both." Turning back to their breakfast, Clay continued stirring the mush before taking a spoonful of it and tasting it. He made a face that said, "It's decent." 

     "What is that?" Misty asked, looking down to the boiling tan mush over the fire.  

     "Oatmeal. Here, try some. If you don't like it, I can add peanut butter or honey or something to it." Clay held out the spoon to Misty. 

     Misty took the spoon and tried Clay's version of the oatmeal. "It's not bad." She replied honestly, handing the spoon back to Clay.

     "Good. I've never had to cook for anyone other than cowboys, and us men will eat just about everything, so I apologize if my cooking skills aren't up to par." Clay took the pan off of the fire and stood up, walking over to Misty and handing her a spoon.  

     Misty took the spoon offered, then joined Clay on the ground. The two shared the oatmeal, eating it directly from the pan. She hadn't had oatmeal in a while, but she was impressed by Clay's decent cooking skills.

     After their oatmeal was gone, Clay and Misty packed up camp for the day. Once the horses were tacked up, and the tent was secured onto Clay's saddle, Misty zipped up her chaps, then swung up onto Midnight's back. Clay settled his dusty black Stetson on his head after he slipped into his own pair of chaps. After checking his cinch and making sure the load was secured in the saddle strings, Clay mounted up.

     Today was Misty's favorite day of the roundup. It was the day that the mustangs are rounded up, and led to a large holding pen where they will be checked for any serious injuries or illnesses. Every year, the McAdam's family chooses several mustangs to be taken back to the ranch to be gentled and either kept for ranch work, or given to other ranches.  

     As they started their ride out at a walk, Misty put her reins behind her saddle horn, and removed her cowboy hat, setting it on her saddle horn as well; she then braided her hair. Once her hair was tight in her low braid, Misty slipped her hat back on, tightening the stampede strings beneath her chin to prevent her hat from flying off while riding.

     In the meantime, Clay radioed out to Bill, letting him know that Misty and he were heading out to the last known location of the mustangs. Bill said that Nelson, Trigger, Paul, Pokey, Junior, and he were already less than an hour out from the herd. 

     This news made both Misty and Clay excited, so they picked up the pace some. Along the way, several of the cowboys radioed to one another. Trigger's group had already reached the mustangs, but were holding back from starting the roundup until the rest of the men arrived. He had said that it was a very large herd this year. Misty looked at Clay and smiled when she heard Trigger's voice tell the news over the radio. 

     After ten more minutes that felt like an hour, Clay and Misty met up with Waylon and Roger; the two cowboys riding rear. Roger suggested that since it was such a large herd this year that Misty and Clay just go straight up to flanking right to help Rowdy, and Marshall, the rookie. Gladly agreeing, Clay and Misty sent their horse out at a lope to catch up with the herd.

     The beautiful sound of horses neighing and hooves stomping the ground filled Misty's ears, making her smile only grow. Clay could hardly hold back Rusty. He wasn't joking when he had said that Rusty was bred for cutting. Midnight was the same way with Misty. Leaning forward, Misty whispered to her gelding, "You'll get your chance, Midnight, I promise." 

     Looking down the hill at the herd, Clay radioed Bill just to make sure that it was safe for Misty and Clay to come down and help on the right flank. Bill quickly said yes, so the pair untied and prepared their lariats from their saddles before slowly riding down. They both know that you don't want to ride down too fast, because you can spook the herd, making it nearly impossible to calm them without something going wrong, especially with mustangs. However, you don't want to ride down too slowly, either, because then the herd could stop and begin eating grass, making it hard to keep them close together and get them moving again.

     Clay and Misty trotted their horses down the hill, meeting up with Rowdy and Marshall on the right flank. "Clay, Marshall, the most important thing about flanking right is that you need to keep the herd from goin' into the barbed wire fence a short ways up ahead, to the right." Misty shouted over the noises to Clay and Marshall. This was only Clay's second year on this roundup, and last year he rode rear. Even though he has a ton of experience herding cattle, it is still different than herding horses...wild horses, many of which have never seen humans or domesticated horses before. Marshall, on the other hand, was the newest hire. He claimed to have experience herding before he came to work for Misty's dad, but from what she's seen, all the herding he has done has most likely been with no more than ten or fifteen heads of cattle. To be honest, she wasn't sure how well he would fare on this roundup; one thing she knew for sure, though. Marshall was a good rider, so what he lacked in herding and cutting, he made up for in riding; Misty heard that he is also a good roper as well, but she hoped that skill wouldn't have to be used this time around. 

     Rowdy, on the other hand, has worked for the McAdams family for many, many years. He is what you could call a "seasoned" cowboy, but his age has never stopped him. In fact, in Misty's opinion, there has been times that when the rest of the gang is plum tuckered, Rowdy is the one keeping them going. If anything, he was the motivation that kept the men riding instead of quitting when they felt like they couldn't go on.  

     "Marshall, I know that you're a good rider, but when things start to get hectic, you always have to remember that you can't always act on your first impulse. If you ride to fast, you can spook the herd. If you ride to slow, the herd might stop, then start to turn around. It's not a good situation. Also, you don't always want to whistle and shout like you would roundin' up cattle. Horses spook much easier than cattle do. And these are mustangs, many of which have never seen humans before. My point is, just be careful. We don't want anyone getting hurt." Misty finished her comments before shutting up and paying attention to the herd. Folks had always said that she was a lot like her dad in many ways. More recently, Misty had started to see it more and more. Take now for example; she gave orders to Clay and Marshall, two men both older than she is. It was something that her dad easily would've done.  

     Up ahead, Misty heard one of the cowboys shouting out something. Looking between the horses trotting past to her left, Misty saw Trace riding up, now at a lope, to catch up with Bill. Misty could see Trace pointing. Following his finger to one of the stallions of the herd, Misty saw something that concerned her. The stallion was leading the horses to the right, straight towards the barbed wire fence. In addition, she noticed him picking up speed. Looking back over her shoulder to where Clay and the other two men were focusing on the herd, Misty spurred Midnight into a lope. Something on the left flank must have spooked the herd because that side immediately started taking off, the right side quickly following...heading straight for the fence with the steep drop-off past the fencing.

     Misty remembered her dream a few nights ago when something very similar to this situation had occurred. In her dream, the lead stallion and Misty's horse had an all-out gallop battle when the horses began heading towards the fence line. In her dream, Misty and Midnight had won the battle, saving the horses from what could have been a fatal accident for the horses. After Misty had gotten the herd turned away from the fence, Clay had ridden up and praised her on her hard riding. 

     Glancing back over her shoulder towards Clay once more, she was thinking that this was the perfect opportunity for her to live her dream. If she was able to get up to the stallion, and get him to turn left, she could impress Clay, and maybe then he would finally notice her. Making a risky decision, Misty told Midnight as she spurred him into a gallop, "C'mon, boy, now's your chance. Let's go." Misty kept her eyes focused on the prize: the stallion who was quickly picking up the pace.  

     Just as Misty was making her way up the herd, she could hear Clay shouting her name behind her. "Misty. No. Stop." Clay's voice faded as Midnight pressed on further, leaving Clay far behind. Nothing could stop Misty at this point. Sure, she wanted to impress Clay, but right now, she was way more concerned about the horses colliding with the fence than she was about Clay.  

     Misty could see Jace, Howard, Trace and a few of the other cowboys desperately trying hard to get the leader of the herd, an appaloosa mare, away from the barbed wire fence from their position on the left flank, but all of their efforts were not working, making Misty press on even harder. 

     The lead stallion was coming closer and closer into Misty's view as she urged Midnight on faster with little help from her spurs. Between her legs, Misty could almost feel the fire burning in her gelding's stomach as he breathed hard, knowing what his rider was asking of him.  

     Misty could hear Clay behind her, still shouting her name. Each time he called, his voice sounded louder and louder, so Misty assumed that he, too, was riding up the herd, but for an entirely different reason than Misty was. She was so close now; she couldn't pull back now. Her dream was coming true before her eyes. She was going to turn the herd and as a result, potentially impress Clay.

     Just as Misty squeezed Midnight into the narrow space between the herd and the fence, she felt him jolt between her legs. Misty wanted to go left, but Midnight was turning right because of the pressure of the stubborn, wild stallion. Because of the split second change, Misty lost her seat, and went flying over Midnight's side, in the direction of the galloping mustangs. 

     Misty hit the ground hard...and face first. Her right knee was the first to hit, followed by her right wrist as she attempted to break her fall. Because of the impact, Misty's body lifted off the ground before she hit for the second time, again, on her right side. The second her body slammed onto the ground, Misty gasped for air, but her motionless body didn't allow because she had gotten the wind knocked out of her. Looking up, Misty could see the mustangs galloping fast beside her. A couple came too close to comfort to her head, but she couldn't move away from them. Beneath her, Misty could feel the ground shake as the horses galloped past.

     After what felt like several minutes later, more of the horses passed, and Clay came riding up to where Misty still laid on the ground. "Misty, what the heck were you thinkin' ridin' up the herd like that? You were lucky you didn't get trampled!" Clay shouted at her, horses running by fast behind him.

     Finally able to catch her breath, Misty slowly rolled over, sitting up and brushing herself off. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for your concern." She mumbled sarcastically.  

     Clay dismounted and went over to Misty. He held his gloved hand out to her, offering help to stand up. Sighing, he asked, "Are you okay?" The angry tone from just a few seconds earlier was completely gone from Clay's voice. He carefully pulled Misty up to her feet. All of the horses had passed, so Misty and Clay just stood alone in the dust trail. 

     "Yes. I'm fine." Misty replied, quickly retreating the hand that Clay was still holding. Looking around, Misty searched for her cowboy hat. Inwardly, she was mad at herself for doing the stupid thing that she just did. All of this just to try to impress Clay. Bending down, Misty picked up her cowboy hat from the ground. She pushed out one of the sides that had caved in as a result of getting stepped on by one of the horses. As she stood back up, placing her hat back on her head, she desperately tried to not show Clay the amount of pain her knee and wrist were sending through her whole body. Her efforts were adverted, however, when she saw Clay giving her a look that she had never seen on his face before. Clay looked like he had just seen Misty, really saw her, more than just another ranch hand on the roundup.  

     Before Misty could think about what the look might have meant, Clay cleared his throat. Looking down at his boots, he said in a declarative way, "You're pretty impulsive, aren't you?" When he looked back up, Misty noticed that little grin of his. 

     "Impulsive?" Misty asked as she brushed off the back of her jeans. She knew what the word meant, she just wanted to know why Clay associated it with her.  

     "Yeah, you saw the stallion running towards the fence and decide in the spur of the moment to go after it, doing exactly what you just told Marshall and I to not do." Clay took a couple steps closer. Looking her up and down, he could see that Misty was favoring her right knee. She quickly let go of the wrist she was holding when Clay looked down at it.  

     "I did what needed to be done. I didn't want the horses to run into the fence." Misty replied, stubbornly placing both hands on her hips. "There's a steep drop off on the other side of that fence. If they had gotten through, that drop would have killed them."

     "You could've hurt yourself, y'know." Clay said ignoring her comment and pretending that he didn't notice she was in pain.

     "I know. I took a risk and I got thrown. I'll pay for it tomorrow when I can barely walk, but for right now, I'm fine. It's all part of bein' a cowgirl. But, I appreciate your concern." Misty forced a smile at Clay. She appreciated that he cared, as a friend. Her right knee and wrist were causing Misty a lot of pain, but she ignored it as she walked back to where Midnight stood, munching on grass just a few feet away as if the wreck never even happened. Misty straightened her saddle and tightened the loose cinch. Grabbing the horn and reins with her left hand, and laying her right arm over the seat of the saddle, Misty slipped her left foot in the stirrup and attempted to swing up. On her way up, Midnight decided to walk a couple steps forward to reach another little patch of grass. Because her body was so sore, she was unable to swing up and her right leg, still planted on the ground, jerked as Midnight took another step, sending even more pain through her knee. 

     As she began to fall backwards, giving into the pain her knee was shooting throughout her leg, Misty felt two strong arms go around her waist, helping her back down to the ground. Turning around, Misty saw just how close her and Clay were. Her body was pressed up against Midnight, so she had nowhere to go. His eyes quickly fluttered down to her lips, but he drew them back up to look her in the eyes. "I'll give you a leg up." It wasn't an offer, but more of a command. Moving away from Misty enough to give her a leg up, Clay bent over, holding his hands out straight. Bending her leg, Misty allowed Clay to hoist her up into her saddle.

     "Thanks." Misty said sheepishly once she was situated atop her gelding. She tightened the stampede strings on her cowboy hat under her chin before grabbing the reins. Misty patiently waited for Clay; once he rode up beside her, she attempted to squeeze her calves against Midnight's side to have him trot, but her right knee refused to allow her to do the simple task. Midnight slightly moved to the right since it was Misty's left heel giving him the direction. With minimal correction from her reins, Misty straightened Midnight before Clay could see. "Hey, no matter what, please don't tell my dad about me getting thrown? Or Jace for that matter." Misty requested of Clay. 

     "I won't say a thang." Clay kindly replied.  

     Pushing herself through the pain, Misty convinced her right leg to work, and asked Midnight into a slow trot. 

     "Misty..." Her name was drawn out. "What are you doin'?" Clay had a slight grin on his face.

     "We should get back to the herd before anyone gets suspicious and figures out what happened." Misty slowed Midnight back down to a walk.

     "Darlin', our original job was to pick up the strays. No one will get suspicious. We are fine just walkin'." Clay's voice held traces of concern. 

     "Did Marshall and Rowdy see me get thrown?" Misty asked as they crawled along at a walk.

     "I don't think so. I know they heard me shoutin' at you, but I told them to worry about the herd."

     "Nice." Misty chuckled. After a few more minutes of walking ridiculously slow, Misty was getting antsy. Fidgeting in her saddle, Misty asked Clay again. "Can we at least trot? Please? I think Midnight is fallin' asleep because we are moving so slow."

     "No. We aren't gonna trot. I don't want you to get hurt worse."

     Turning to Clay, Misty asked, "You do realize that this isn't the first time that I've gotten thrown from a horse, right? I'm fine to trot, or lope-since that's smoother." Misty partially lied; she had gotten thrown more times than she could count, but she lied about how much pain she was in right now. She was pretty certain that she sprained her wrist, but her knee was a different story. She could hardly move it, but she was tough, and stubborn...a bad combination.

      "I know, but who's to say he won't spook again? Better safe than sorry." Clay replied, tugging on the glove on his right hand.

     "He could spook at a walk, too." Misty reiterated. Looking over at Clay, she could tell that he, too, was holding Rusty back, and that he also wanted to be up with the herd. His eyes fixed straight ahead was just one giveaway.

     "True, but you won't fly as far at a walk then you would at a lope or gallop."

     Misty sighed. "Okay, cowboy." She knew she wasn't going to win this time.

     After about ten more minutes of the quiet, slow walk, Misty asked Clay just one more time if they could pick up the pace. Clay asked Misty if she was sure she was able to lope, and once Misty said she was, Clay obliged, seeming relieved that she asked again.

     After a short ride, since they were now loping, Misty and Clay reached the corrals were all of the mustangs were led. This had to be the biggest herd in years. Smiling, Misty pulled up Midnight and just looked at the horses. Her eyes scanning the herd, she saw one horse that stood out to her the most. It was the leader stallion that was leading the herd towards the barbed wire fence, and the stallion that caused Misty to get thrown. She was surprised that it was the stallion who was making the horses turn towards the fence, and not the boss, and true leader of the herd, that Appaloosa mare.

     Atop her horse, Misty watched that grulla stallion as he threw his head and ran around the pen, neighing frantically, searching for a way out. He must have been new to the herd, because Misty didn't recognize him. She didn't believe in ghosts, but his movements didn't seem real, he seemed 'ghost-like,' almost like everything he did was in slow motion. Even when she was running next to him, trying to get him to turn the herd left, it seemed like he faded in and out of sight, and that, even though in reality Midnight was running faster then he'd ever run, it seemed like they were running in slow motion. The second that Misty saw the stallion running in front of the rest of the herd, she knew that this herd would be different than almost every other herd in the past. 

     Completely in awe of this horse, Misty didn't hear Clay when he called her name. "Hey, Misty." Clay said again, this time he reached over and softly touched Misty's forearm.

     Misty looked away from the horse and turned to Clay, "Yeah?" She asked.

     "Are you okay?" Clay asked, his eyebrows pushed together in concern.

     "Yes. I'm fine. I was just lookin' at the herd. There's so many, and they're so beautiful." Misty smiled. Looking down, she saw that Clay was still holding onto her arm. Following her gaze, Clay saw what she saw, and quickly retreated his hand.

      "Let's go see if they need help with the horses." Clay said, not looking at Misty. Beside him, Misty carefully dismounted from Midnight's back, cautious of her hurting knee. The ride back to the chutes had taken its toll; Misty's knee was sore and buckled under the sudden weight as she stepped to the ground. Before Misty could fall, she grabbed her saddle horn, falling against Midnight.

     Clay dismounted from Rusty like a calf roper and sprinted over to where Misty was trying to regain her balance. Only now did she feel dizzy and realize that her head hurt, too. She must have gotten thrown further, and worse, then she thought. At some point, she must have also hit her head hard on the ground; it worried her that she couldn't remember hitting her head...she didn't black out at any point, as least she didn't think she did.

     Once Misty heard Clay walking up behind her, she quickly dropped her gloved hand from her head. Slowly opening her eyes, Misty turned to Clay. "Hey." Misty forced a smile, acting like nothing happened.

     "You alright there, darlin'?" Clay asked, lowering his voice as he asked Misty, concerned.

     Misty chuckled. "Why are you so worried about me? I'm fine." Just to prove it, Misty slipped the reins off of Midnight's neck, and led him to where the other cutting horses were, in their own makeshift pen.

    Clay followed closely beside her, leading Rusty, as they untacked their horses and made their way back over to the corrals. Once to the corrals, Misty stepped up onto one of the rails and looked around the pen at all of the mustangs that would be safe, and healthy, for at least another year.

     Jace jumped up closely beside Misty on the rail. "Hey, y'all, how was the ride? I saw y'all with the horses, but then once they spooked, I lost sight of y'all."

      "It was good. What spooked them; do you know?" Misty replied.

      "We're not sure, but it was sumthin' on the left flank. But I overheard Rowdy and Marshall sayin' that someone was ridin' up the herd towards the leader. They said something about someone tryin' to get the herd to turn away from the fence. You wouldn't have to know anything about that, would you, Misty?" Jace asked, giving Misty a look.

     Misty took a sigh. Jace was her best friend; she couldn't lie to him. Before she could open her mouth to admit to being the person in the rumors, Clay backed her. "I don't know who that could've been. Misty was with me the whole time. We were behind Roger and Waylon pickin' up the stragglers."

     "Misty, Clay, Jace. Can y'all please come over and give us all hand?" Misty's dad shouted over at them before Misty could silently thank Clay.

     The trio jumped down from the fence to go over and help at the chutes. Bill, who was still on his horse, gave orders to the three as he worked to cut the herd into smaller groups so they could filter them through the chutes, deciding on which mustangs to take back to the ranch to train, and check for any serious injuries. "Jace, have you unsaddled your horse yet?" Bill asked, waving his lariat at one of the horses.

     "No, sir." Jace replied over the noise of the horses.

     "Okay. Can you please hop on him and help me in here? Misty, Clay, y'all two grab your ropes and help the others sort." Bill made his way through the swarm of horses to be closer to Misty and Clay. "No, scratch that. Clay, you go back and saddle up and help Paul and Rowdy sort. Misty, can you please help Junior, Marshall and Waylon work the gates?"

     Misty looked up at her dad. Did he really just ask her to work the gates? She felt like she had been demoted. "You don't want me to help cut? I've always helped cut." Misty said, not trying to be disrespectful, she was just simply used to cutting.

     "I don't want you cuttin' because I don't want to risk you getting thrown." Bill said, a knowing look in his eyes. He scanned Misty up and down, seeming to focus for a second on her right knee.

     It was at that second that Misty knew her dad knew that she had gotten thrown. How does he know? Misty wondered. Not going to argue with her dad, Misty nodded her "yes sir" and made her way over to where Marshall, Waylon, and Junior were already sorting the horses.

     After over two and a half hours of sorting, the herd was thinning out. There were several horses in the left-hand corral which were the ones that the McAdams' would take back to the ranch. The right-hand corral was for the other mustangs that they would turn back out into the wild. When she had a second, Misty took off her cowboy hat to wipe a gloved hand over her sweaty forehead. She unbuttoned her pearl snap to allow the slight breeze to blow around her tank top. Wyoming chose a bad day to be sunny and 90 degrees. Misty knew her hair was a mess and that her face was beat red, but she didn't care. After tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear, Misty plopped her worn-out dark brown Stetson back onto her head as she saw Waylon running a horse to the chutes. Her knee was shooting pain throughout Misty's whole body because of the task that required a lot of movement, but she ignored that when she heard Waylon say something to her. 

     "This one is crazy!" Waylon shouted as he struggled cutting the horse. "Misty, get the right gate!" 

     Misty looked over at the horse that Waylon was trying to cut. It was the lead stallion. The horse looked right at Misty and stopped. Staring at him, Misty immediately felt connected to him. In what felt like slow motion, the ghost-like grulla horse flared his nostrils as he threw his head and pawed the ground. He was beautiful in every way. "Casper." Misty named the horse. Everything around Misty seemed to stop. It seemed like something out of a movie; it didn't seem real.

     "Misty!" Waylon shouted.

     Misty snapped out of her amazement of the horse to answer Waylon. "What?"

     "Get the right gate!" Waylon shouted, waving his lariat at the now crazy "Casper."

     "No. We are gonna keep him!" Misty said, shouting to Waylon.

      Waylon yelled something at Misty about putting him in the right corral, but Misty didn't listen. She wanted this horse; she wanted to train him. Being her typical stubborn self, Misty disobeyed Waylon's orders and opened the left gate despite Junior and Marshall's protest, allowing Casper into the corral of horses that the McAdams' would take back to the ranch.

     "Misty, why did you do that?" Waylon asked, riding up close to Misty. His voice wasn't as loud as it was just a few seconds ago.

     "Because I'm gonna train him. We have a connection." Misty said, shutting the gate and not looking at Waylon. "Besides, I saw another mare that seems to be the leader. You and I both know that the females are usually the boss." Misty winked at Waylon after she secured the gate. She leaned on it for support from the throbbing pain in her knee.

     "Your dad ain't gonna be too happy with you." Waylon said with a smile on his face. He waved a gloved finger at Misty.

     "You let me deal with him." Misty smiled back. She liked Waylon; the twenty-five year old was hard working, funny, dedicated, and his wife was adorable. After three years of being married, Waylon and Kate finally had their first child: the cutest blonde-haired daughter. Waylon was that annoying older brother, but he was also the guy who, if a guy was to mistreat Misty, he would be the first to give him a talking to.

     After only about another twenty short minutes later, all of the horses were sorted out, and Bill was making plans on who would help herd the mustangs, that were not being taken back to the ranch, back out into the wild. A tired, but excited Rowdy, Trigger, Howard, and Roger were all sent out with the mustangs. Their job wasn't too difficult and they were all cowboys who had been ranching long enough to know how to get the job done quick, but well.

     Sure enough, after a long, hard day, all of the cowboys were done for the day. Now they all sat around the campfire after supper playing card games and just having fun. Misty held her hot chocolate close as she sat near the fire, waiting until the next card game started so that she could join in. The typical, bipolar Wyoming weather was now chilly. Brisk air blew around Misty, chilling her body. Misty wasn't one to get cold easy, but in just a matter of about an hour, Misty went from sweating in 90 degree weather to now: chilly air that was about 55 degrees.

      Clay walked over to where Misty sat on a log next to the fire. "This seat taken?" He asked, pointing to an open spot next to Misty.

      "All yours, cowboy." Misty said, scooting over slightly to allow plenty of space. Clay sipped his coffee and looked over at Misty after he plopped down on the log. "Are you cold?" He asked.

     "Just a little. I don't get cold very often, but it got awful chilly out real quick." Misty replied, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

     Without a word, Clay stood up and went over to his tent. Retreating a few minutes later, Clay came back out to Misty, wrapping his worn, tan jacket around her shoulders. "Thank you." Misty said, looking up at Clay.

     Instead of sitting, Clay asked Misty, "I'm gonna make a s'more. Would you like one?"

     "You don't have to." Misty replied, pulling the jacket closer around her shoulders. It smelled so good. Amidst the smell of horses, hay, barn, and cattle, Misty could faintly smell Clay's manly "scent."

     "But I want to." Clay winked, bringing Misty out of her sniffing of Clay's masculine smell on his jacket. "Lightly roasted?" Clay asked Misty, talking about the marshmallows.

     Misty nodded, smiling. "Thank you." Something had changed between her and Clay during the extent of this roundup, but the change was in a good way. As she watched him put a couple marshmallows on a stick and walk over to the fire, Misty thought that if anything else, she could call Clay her friend. Now, whether or not he thought the same way about her was another story. But, either way, Clay had given Misty a look today that he had never given her before. It was as if he just really realized that she was a female amidst the cowboys on this roundup. The look was as if Clay had just actually seen Misty. The thought of them being friends made Misty smile; it was a scary thought, but in a scary good kind of way.

     "Hey man, you playin' this round?" One of the cowboys asked Clay who still stood at the fire roasting the marshmallows.

     Clay turned around to ask Misty if she was playing the card game this round. When Misty said yes, Clay responded, "Sure. Count me in." Turning back to the marshmallows, Clay saw their marshmallows on fire. "Shoot." He said, blowing out the fire. As he passed Misty, Clay said, "Sorry I burnt ours. I'll make you a better one. Not burnt this time." Clay smiled.

     "It's fine. You don't have to make another; I'll just peel off the burnt part."

     "Okay." Clay shrugged and went back to the table to prepare their s'mores. After a minute or so, Clay handed Misty her gooey graham cracker, marshmallow and chocolate treat. Noticing that Clay took off the burnt part for her, Misty took a bite of her favorite snack as the cards were being dealt out.

     "Um...you got a little..." Clay ran a thumb over his cheek as if to wipe something away. "There's some marshmallow..." Misty attempted to wipe away the sticky residue, but just smeared it worse. Clay chuckled slightly. "Here." Setting down his coffee mug and cards, Clay licked his thumb and softly wiped the marshmallow off of Misty's cheek. Even after the marshmallow was gone, Clay kept his hand softly caressing Misty's cheek. His eyes wandered down to her lips, but he quickly pulled away when he heard his friends hooting and hollering. Retreating his hand, Clay picked up his cards. Keeping his gaze downward, Clay said, embarrassed, but with a smile, "Yeah, alright. Y'all just hush up." Misty felt herself blushing as she pulled back.

     Out of all of the young cowboys that were still up, playing cards around the fire, there was only one guy who didn't hoot and holler when Clay wiped away the marshmallow from Misty's cheek: Jace. Jace gave Misty and Clay an almost jealous look. Even though he was on the opposite side of the fire, Misty could see him clench his jaw and look away from where Misty and Clay sat, very close to each other.

     A small voice and a tap on her shoulder made Misty look away from Jace. Turning to Junior, who was standing beside her, she asked, "Are you okay, bud?"

     "I can't fall asleep. Can you please come in the tent and tell me a story or something?" Junior asked, in his pajamas and cowboy boots.

     Out of the corner of her eye, Misty could see how close she and Clay was sitting. Everything was going so well between them tonight that she didn't want the night to end, but she knew that if she laid down to put Junior to bed, her sore and exhausted body would fall asleep too. Before Misty could respond, Clay said, "Darlin', it's your turn."

     Misty took her eyes off of her little brother to look down at the cards in her hand. "Umm...pass." Turning back to Junior, Misty said, "I'll be in in a few minutes, bud. We are almost done with this hand, then I'll come in. Just sing yourself a slow song, and you'll fall asleep in no time, okay?" Misty knew she was being selfish in wanting to spend time with Clay rather than helping her little brother who was clearly afraid of the dark, and afraid of being alone.

     Misty had told herself, and promised Junior, that she would be in after the last hand, but that quickly turned into four hands. As the cards were being dealt for the fifth hand, Misty knew she had to opt out. Her guilty conscience was taking over. "Sorry, y'all. I'm gonna have to sit out this hand." Misty said, standing up. Handing Clay back the jacket he let her borrow, Misty teased, "And don't let Clay win. I think I saw him slippin' some cards." Misty playfully winked, but it was probably too dark for him to see.

    "I think that you're the one cheatin', darlin'. I'm pretty sure I saw you lookin' over at my cards a few times." Clay shot right back, taking his jacket from her.

     "It's too dark; there's no way that you would have been able to see me lookin' at your cards unless you were lookin' over at mine." Misty countered, not missing a beat. All the cowboys 'oohed' their response at Clay and Misty's playful bantering. It was then that Clay looked up at her. He gave her a look that Misty couldn't clearly decipher in the dark night, but it looked like he had a playful smile on his face. Knowing she won this game, Misty smiled and turned, walking over to her and Junior's tent. Her smile quickly faded when she saw that Junior wasn't inside of their tent. Quietly slipping over to her dad's tent, Misty peeked inside and saw Junior peacefully sleeping beside his dad. That twang of guilt strung a chord in Misty's heart again. She had let Junior down tonight. Misty had unintentionally put a crush before the well-being of her little brother. Tomorrow, Misty promised herself, she would put Junior before her own silly desires. Nothing could break that promise, right? Not even if Clay looks at her like he did tonight...