Free Black Hills by Nora Roberts

through the hills, passed tidy farms and pastures. She saw men mending fences, and clothes flapping on lines. She stopped—she couldn’t help herself—to take pictures and some quick notes when she spotted a good-sized herd of buffalo.
    She arrived at the farm in time to see Coop saddling up. She hitched on her pack, grabbed the second, then gave a whistle.
    “What’s all that?”
    “Some surprises,” she called out as he walked over to help her.
    “Jesus, Lil, it looks like enough for a week. We’re only going to be a few hours.”
    “You’ll thank me later. Where is everybody?”
    “My grandparents had to run into town. They should be on their way back, but they said not to wait if we were ready before.”
    “Believe me, I’m ready.” She hugged that exciting secret inside. “Oh, I talked to my college roommate today.” Lil checked the cinches on the mare’s saddle. “We got our dorm assignments, and she called, just to touch base. She’s from Chicago, and she’ll be studying animal husbandry and zoology. I think we’re going to get along. I hope. I’ve never shared a room before.”
    “Not much longer now.”
    “No.” She mounted. “Not much longer. Do you like your roommate?”
    “He stayed stoned pretty much through two years. He didn’t bother me.”
    “I’m hoping to make friends. Some people make friends in college that stay friends all the rest of their lives.” They moved at an easy pace, all the time in the world, under the wide blue plate of sky. “Did you get stoned?”
    “A couple of times and that was enough. It seemed like the thing to do, and the grass was right there. He’s all, Dude, fire one up,” Coop said in an exaggerated stoner’s tone that made her laugh. “So why not? Everything seemed pretty funny—and mellow—for a while. Then I was starving and had a headache. It didn’t seem worth it.”
    “Is he going to be your roommate again this term?”
    “He flunked out, big surprise.”
    “You’ll have to break in a new one.”
    “I’m not going back.”
    “What?” She jerked her mount to a halt to gape, but Coop kept going. She nudged the mare into a trot to catch up. “What do you mean, you’re not going back? Back east?”
    “No, back to college. I’m done.”
    “But you’ve only—you’ve barely . . . What happened?”
    “Nothing. That’s pretty much the point. I’m not getting anywhere, and it’s not where I want to get, anyway. The whole prelaw shit was my father’s deal. He’ll pay as long as I do it his way. I’m not doing it his way anymore.”
    She knew the signs—the tightening of his jaw, the flare in his eyes. She knew the temper, and the bracing for a fight.
    “I don’t want to be a lawyer, especially not the kind of corporate stooge in an Italian suit he’s pushing on me. Goddamn it, Lil, I spent the first half of my life trying to please him, trying to get him to notice me, to fucking care. What did it get me? The only reason he’s paid the freight on college is because he has to, but it had to be his way. And he was pissed I didn’t get into Harvard. Jesus, as if.”
    “You could’ve gotten into Harvard if you wanted.”
    “No, Lil.” Exasperated he scowled at her. “ You could. You’re the genius, the straight-A student.”
    “You’re smart.”
    “Not like that. Not with school, or not that way. I do okay, I do fine. And I fucking hate it, Lil.”
    Sad and mad, she realized. The sad and mad was back in his eyes. “You never said—”
    “What was the point? I felt stuck. He can make you feel like you don’t have a choice, like he’s right, you’re wrong. And Christ, he knows how to make you toe the line. That’s why he’s good at what he does. But I don’t want to do what he does. Be what he is. I started thinking of all the years I’d have to put into becoming what I didn’t want to become. I’m done with it.”
    “I wish you’d told me before. I just wish you’d told me you were so unhappy with