Forgotten - Dawn Nicole Stevens Page 0,86

letting go didn’t mean falling off of a horse, but instead, that she’d tumble over the edge of a cliff. Her dizzy state made her feel as if she was sitting much higher than she actually was, and only increased her fear of falling.

The cowboy took the horse by the reins and began to move forward. The horse’s first few steps jostled Sarah in the saddle and she gave a little squeal. She could only see the side of the cowboy’s face, but she could see enough of it to know that he was laughing and she scowled back at him. He turned and asked if she was okay and Sarah grew red from embarrassment, knowing that he’d caught her giving him a sour look.

“I’m okay. Just wasn’t expecting this to be so bumpy,” she replied as she hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. She wiggled in the saddle, trying to balance herself, and as she shifted, she felt her phone slip from her pocket. “My phone!” She gasped as it thumped onto the ground.

The cowboy stopped the horse and picked it up, then brushed the dirt off of it onto his jeans. He pushed some buttons and reassured her that it wasn’t broken, then slipped it into his saddle bag. “It’ll be safe in there. Can’t fall out and end up broken.”

He and the horse resumed walking and he glanced over his shoulder at her. “My name’s Luke, by the way.”

“Sarah,” she replied.

“So Sarah, how’d you get that bump your head?”

With a raised eyebrow, she looked back at Shakespeare who trotted behind them with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “I was looking for Shakespeare. He disappeared, then I heard him barking and I guess I got a little scared wondering what he was barking at. I started to run, but a tree sort of got in my way.”

Luke chuckled and Sarah could once again feel her face brightening with embarrassment.

A few awkward moments passed and he said, “Shakespeare, that’s a unique name.”

Sarah smiled, happy for the change in topic. “Yeah, I’m a writer and an avid reader. It was either Shakespeare or Emerson.”

“As in Ralph Waldo Emerson?” Luke asked.

“You know poetry?” Sarah asked in stunned fascination.

“I read quite a bit of everything,” he replied. “So what do you write?”

“I work for one of the papers in the city and do some articles here and there for magazines. I’ve also written a novel but I haven’t submitted it to a publisher yet.” Sarah clammed her lips together, puzzled that she’d shared that with a stranger. There were very few people who knew about her novel. Actually, when she thought about it, Kendra was the only person who knew.

“So what’s your hold up?” Luke asked.

“I want to read through it a few more times to be sure it’s exactly what I want it to be.”

“I assumed you are staying at the old Hawthorne place and further assumed you must be a realtor or someone trying to spruce the place up for sale. I guess that’s not the case if you’re a writer. I’m surprised it’s been sold already, I wasn’t aware that it was on the market.”

“Actually it wasn’t on the market, I inherited it from my grandmother.”

“Elizabeth Grant was your grandmother?” Luke asked. Sarah noted the expression of shock evident on his face.

“Yep, the grandmother I never knew anything about.”

Luke’s demeanor changed. Sarah thought maybe he was surprised to learn who she was, or maybe stunned that she didn’t know her grandmother, but something told her that he had other reasons for the abrupt change in his persona. Maybe he hadn’t liked her grandmother. Maybe she’d been a bitter old lady the locals couldn’t stand. She thought perhaps she should clarify things, just so that Luke knew she was nothing like her grandmother. “My mother told me we had no other family. Imagine my surprise last month when I received the call from my grandmother’s lawyer.”

Luke nodded solemnly but didn’t reply. Sarah wondered what had just happened and was toying with the idea of questioning Luke about it, but then realized they’d made it back to the house.

He helped her down from the horse and before she could question him or even thank him for his help, he pressed that he had to hurry back to the farm. He swung up onto the horse and Sarah shouted him a lame ‘thank you’ as he rode off.

Sarah turned to Shakespeare and whispered, “What do you think