Free From the Boots Up by Andi Marquette

her in on it. Meg’s heart
skidded around her chest.
    “Got a few minutes?” Gina asked her.
    “Yep. These guys telling you the truth?”
    “Define ‘truth’,” Jackson drawled, pulling on his
chin.
    “No worries,” Gina said. “I’ll make shit up, too.”
She grinned and Meg’s throat went dry.
    Davey laughed. “I think you’ll fit in just fine
around here.” He slyly appraised her before he tipped his ball cap. “Got some
stuff to do. If you need anything, let me know.” He headed toward the lodge.
    “You seen your dad?” Jackson asked.
    “Last I remember, he stood about this high—”
Meg held her hand up marking a space about four inches over the crown of her
hat, “and he was wearing—”
    Jackson snorted. “Smart-ass.” To Gina he said, “Let
one of us know if you need anything. Tell you a few more stories, too, if you
want.” He grinned and touched the brim of his hat before he walked away.
    “Better than being a dumb-ass, I’d guess,” Gina said
as she wrote something in her notebook. She finished and closed it. “Things
always this busy?” She asked as she slid the notebook and pen into one of her
back pockets.
    “No. It’s busy now because it’s summer and that’s the
best time for guests. Not all years start this well, though. And winters aren’t
so friendly.” She pushed the brim of her hat back a bit. “During winters, my
dad, Alice, and maybe six or seven hands live here. I’m here between semesters,
usually, and for at least part of the summer. Depends if I have a class.”
    “Colorado State?” Gina watched her.
    “Yeah. Good guess.”
    “Not really. You were wearing a CSU T-shirt the night
I got here.”
    “Oh.” She remembered what Marjorie had said about
journalists and observation.
    “When do you graduate?”
    “December.”
    Gina smiled. “Congrats. Then what?”
    “I want to go to vet school and they have a good one.
I’m hoping to get in.”
    “Impressive.” She leaned her back against the paddock
fence and Meg struggled to keep her gaze on her face, and not on how well her
well-worn blue tee fit her, or how her jeans hugged her waist and hips.
    “I’m applying this fall,” Meg said. “Then we’ll see
who’ll have me.”
    “I don’t think you need to worry.”
    “It’s really competitive.”
    Gina shrugged. “You have a way with animals.” She
gestured at the dogs, all four, lolling in the dirt near Meg’s feet. “Speaking
of which, I know those two—” she pointed at Dammit and Bugoff, “but what
about the other two?”
    “That’s Moonshine—he’s a little slow on the
uptake. And that’s his sister Booger. She’s a bit lazy. Dammit and Bugoff are
the best of the bunch for actual herding.”
    Gina chuckled. “How the hell did they end up with
their names?”
    Meg smiled. “Guests. When Dammit was a puppy, he peed
on this guy’s shoes when he left them outside his door. Dammit figured whatever’s
outside is his. Besides, ‘Dammit’ sounded better than ‘fucking hell’ for a dog’s
name. Which is what the guy actually said.”
    Gina laughed and the sound settled like sunlight in
Meg’s chest as she gestured at Bugoff. “And one summer, this woman from England
was here. Her favorite thing to say was ‘bugger off’!” She did a passable
imitation of an English accent and was rewarded with Gina’s chuckle.
    Meg continued, “She didn’t care much for dogs and she
was always saying ‘bugger off’ to Bugoff and it stuck. Moonshine got his name
because a kid from Alabama thought it was cool. And Booger. . .well, she really
liked this little girl from Pennsylvania and she kept wiping her face on the
girl’s pants. The girl would laugh and laugh and say ‘boogers’.” She shrugged.
“Plus, they definitely don’t sound like the horse’s names, so nobody gets
confused.”
    “Practical.” She smiled. “And your name?”
    She paused.
    “Off the record,” Gina said.
    “After my grandmother. My dad’s mom. Her