How To Rope A Rich Cowboy (Silver Springs Ranch #2) - Anya Summers Page 0,17

tribes in Australia. This venture mattered just as much to her, for in studying the world and the cosmos, she had respect for life in all its forms.

She tested branches as she climbed, ensuring their stability before ascending to the next branch, onward and upward until she arrived at the circular nest of twigs. The baby bird had three siblings who became frantic at her appearance.

“It’s okay. I’ve got your brother or sister right here.” She noticed the mom and dad circling overhead, squawking at her presence near their nest, and prayed that they wouldn’t decide to dive bomb her for encroaching on their babies.

Moving swiftly, she removed the paper boat with the tiny bird crying away, tipped the boat on its side, and was rewarded when the darling little birdie slid back into its nest.

Joy suffused her.

Pleased with the tiny victory and the life she’d saved, she shoved the paper boat back into her pocket before beginning the climb down. She wanted to get out of the way so the mom and dad could get back to their offspring. On her descent, she selected the same branches she had used on her ascent. It was trickier going down than up. It made her infinitely aware of how cats became stuck in trees—although they at least had claws to keep them steady. The rough bark scraped against her palms. She lowered her feet to the next branch.

As she reached for the next hand hold, the branch beneath her feet snapped with a loud crack. She clasped the one above her head to keep herself from falling with the broken branch as it tumbled to the ground.

Well, crap!

She glanced down past her dangling feet to the ground below. There were still a good twenty feet between her feet and the ground. Too high up, in Avery’s estimation. She wouldn’t risk breaking a limb and just dropping down, not when that limb could be her neck. As it was, the next closest sturdy branch was a good six feet down. While she could pray that she would be able to grab that one if she let go of the one she was clinging to for dear life, it was still too risky. She could miss grabbing the stupid thing and wind up splattered on the ground with a broken limb. Shifting, she peered around the trunk, scoping the opposite side for another branch to use.

Dammit. By her estimation, the nearest one had to be a good four feet around, and down at an angle. Again, way too far for her to reach safely.

Gripping the branch with her hands, she searched for a way out of her predicament. She could climb back up a ways and circle around. Pray that those branches were strong enough to hold her as she made her way down. Avery was strong but her arms were growing tired from holding herself up. Pull-ups had always been the hardest exercise for her, even in grade school. She would rather do a hundred burpees than one pull-up.

Her arm muscles quivered. She had to do something, anything, before the strength in her arms failed her and her grip faltered. She pulled herself up and circled her legs around the branch to give herself more leverage and time.

Avery maneuvered into position and shimmied the lower part of her body around to the branch on the opposite side. This was good, she told herself, she could do this, get herself out of the pickle she found herself in.

She lowered her feet—clad in her lucky boots—with a prayer that she had found another way down. The moment her feet touched the branch, the stupid thing bent down at a forty-five-degree angle. There was no way the branch would support her weight.

And she could only think: now what?

4

By the time Colt arrived back at the ranch that morning, the sun’s golden light was shining across fields full of cattle. He noticed his buddies, Maverick, Duncan, and Lincoln were already hard at work outside the stables. The others were around here somewhere, whether it was on a trail ride, herding cattle, or performing one of the multitude of other duties required to keep an operation this large running smoothly. The ranch thrived at this time of year and tended to work like a well-oiled machine, but it was still one that he had to steer and keep heading in the right direction.

Although this morning, he felt lighter, happier than he had for some time. That was