Her Cowboy

Chapter 23

I don't know what time it was when I started riding, but I was so lost in my thoughts that by the time I finally had enough sense in me to stop and see where I was, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Shadows stretched three times as tall as the trees emitting them, and the once beautiful canopy of towering trunks started looking more ominous as darkness approached.

"Woah, boy," I said soothingly, pulling Porkpie to a stop. We had paused at a creek, and I let the reins fall slack so Porkpie could take a drink. As he did so, I looked around, searching for any sign of familiarity. My hand went to my pocket, but it was empty. I didn't have my phone. It was still in my room back at the house.

My heart started pounding a little harder as I realized we'd likely been, based on the sun, riding for more than a couple hours. I thought I'd been following trails I knew—but as I looked around, I couldn't recognize anything.

Well, I can just follow the creek. I knew it would probably lead to the river that Percy, Jason, Leo and I swam at, and I knew my way back from there. I think.

So I nudged Porkpie in that direction, and he took off at a steady trot beside the stream. The ground was rocky, but Porkpie easily found steady footing. Trees lined both of our sides, and I could see a mountain in the far distance, but only the peak. Otherwise, all I could see was the dense forest.

We rode for maybe another thirty minutes. Each corner we rounded, I held my breath, hoping I'd be able to release it in relief because we'd found the river where we swam, the beach we had laid on, or anything familiar for that matter.

Nope.

"I'm such an idiot," I muttered to myself. Why hadn't I been paying attention?

Because I'd been crying and so frustrated and mocking up arguments I wanted to have with Percy, where I'd have a mic-drop comeback that would leave him speechless. That's why.

Gritting my teeth, I made Porkpie pause again. Think, Annabeth, think.

It was now officially dusk, and Porkpie and I were draped in shadows from the trees on our left. As the shadows grew, so did Porkpie's nerves. He whinnied and pranced around skittishly. I ran my palm along his neck, hoping to comfort him. He craned his head to look back at me, his big brown eyes seeming to ask, Can we go home?

"I'm trying, Porkpie," I mumbled. "Do you know the way?" He was quiet, then looked forward again, but made no move forward. I guess not.

We'd passed by one house a ways back. I could have stopped and asked where we were, but I couldn't risk them recognizing me. The house didn't look familiar, and just seeing it left me uneasy—I knew the Jackson's ranch spanned hundreds of acres. If I'd come across a neighboring home, that means I went pretty far.

"Come on, boy." Porkpie started walking again. My stomach grumbled loudly, and I grimaced. I hadn't eaten anything that day. Surely the others would be wondering where I was?

Then I felt shame that I was lost, like a damsel in distress, and they'd need to try and find me. I clenched my jaw, feeling the frustration come back, and I kicked Porkpie into a steady canter. I'd find the ranch again, it might take me a while, but I would.

We rounded another corner, still nothing.

The shadows were getting darker. I could still see, but it was eerie. The trickling of the creek and the clopping of Porkpie's hooves were the only sound. I could feel his body getting more tense, and I tried to make myself relaxed—I knew he could sense my body language, so I couldn't act as worried as I felt.

Right when I was about to start freaking out, nature decided to accelerate it.

Something rustled in the trees right next to us—something big. Before I could prepare myself, an animal jumped out from the trees, sending birds flying and startling everything.