Wendi's Story: The A-Z of Trophy Wives, #23

By D.D. Grey

They're young, beautiful, with fast cars and luxury homes—with absentee, older husbands. Bored and lonely, each of our trophy wives has her own solution.

 

Riding is Wendi's passion—it has always been. If you'd told her at 16 that at 25, she'd be living on a 500-acre ranch with twenty horses and a wealthy husband, she'd have been ecstatic. The reality, the heat, the dust, and the general boredom had worn her down. Her husband was out with the cattle most days, including weekends, or away on business, and she saw him too rarely.

At one end of their property was a small lake surrounded by trees, and a lot of the neighborhood kids would swim there in the summer.

One day, riding by, she hears louder voices than usual, and dismounting, she creeps through the trees to find the swimming hole occupied by three lads she recognizes and a girl—they'd helped out on the range for a couple of summers before heading off to college. Now they were back for the summer break.

They were laughing, joking, and basking on the rocks as they swigged beer while one guy made out with the girl.

As Wendi backed away, she tripped, and her startled yell echoed around the clearing.

Maybe this summer isn't going to be so boring after all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Grey
• Release date: Oct 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223223993

Book preview

Chapter 1

I sighed as I watched Jorge lead the already saddled white mare from the stable toward the old-fashioned hitching rail in front of the house. There were just so many things wrong with that. Today was Tuesday, so that meant I rode Susie. As far as the ranch foreman was concerned, each of the seven horses kept in the stable needed to be ridden, ergo, one a day, the same one each day of the week. Today it was Susie’s turn, possibly the most placid of the ranch’s horses. Tomorrow was Harriet, or Harry for short, a coal-black mare with not much more liveliness to her nature. Thursday would be Cole, the brown gelding, while Friday was the highlight of the week, Marko, the uncut stallion.

I loved them all, each and every one of them. They were all good riding animals, and they needed their exercise. The other fourteen or so horses on the ranch were the men’s own mounts and remounts. I didn’t touch them any more than they rode the boss’s horses, except in an emergency. Since Jim was away so much, that left it to me to ride them.

It wasn’t just it was Tuesday, therefore it was Susie. It was also the way Jorge always saddled the horse for me before bringing him or her out to me. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been saddling horses since I was a pre-teen, but that didn’t prevent Jorge from doing what he thought of as his job. I knew the men all thought I was crazy to ride all over the ranch on my own for a couple of hours every afternoon. There again, they spent their time in the saddle working. For me, it was relaxation and an escape from the confines of the house.

She’s ready and raring to go, ma’am.

I chuckled and shook my head. It didn’t matter how many times I told Jorge to call me Wendi, the ranch foreman wouldn’t bend. It was always ma’am this, and the ma’am said that. The other hands tended to be less formal, but at the same time, they kept a respectful distance. So did the two house staff. Marsha was a brilliant cook, she had to be with that many mouths to feed. The kitchen was her domain, and she’d made it clear from the moment Jim had brought home his blushing bride, not that I’d actually been blushing, much, that I was to leave her domain to her. Sure, she’d let me help, occasionally, but those occasions were few and far between. Judy, who looked after the bunkhouse and did the laundry as well as cleaning around the house, was a little more approachable. She, though, thought it was hilarious that I insisted on washing and drying my own clothes. I hadn’t been used to being looked after like that, and I didn’t want anyone talking about my choice of underwear. Not that it was that racy most of the time, anyway.

I pulled myself out of my reverie and smiled at Jorge before stepping down into the front yard and took my customary look over the horse and equipment. Susie knew the drill and stood patiently waiting for me to mount. Jorge had always insisted I checked out the horse before mounting. ‘Five miles from here, you’re on your own.’ That had been his mantra from the first day Jim told them I could ride.

Of course, that wasn’t quite true. I had my satellite phone, and I had the emergency locator beacon. All I had to do was make a call, or activate the beacon, and there would be eight men dropping everything to pound their way out to my location. Still, making sure all the gear was correct wasn’t a bad way to start a ride, and it only took a couple of minutes.

Thank you, Jorge.

Ma’am. You heading West or East today?

I chuckled. Despite mentally complaining about the routine Jorge had straight-jacketed me into, I had become a creature of habit. Certain of the horses, including Susie, here, were better on flat than broken ground. Cole, for instance, absolutely hated being made to go through woodland of any description. Marko, on the other hand, loved to follow a twisting, turning path through woods. If I gave him his head, there was one thicket he always made a beeline for. Susie, though, loved the open pastureland to either side of the ranch, rather than the broken country to the south, or the more wooded area to the north.

West.

Ma’am. Have a nice ride.

He stood ready to help me mount, he always did. Like I ever needed help. I’d been swarming up onto a horse’s back since I was eleven, and the horse’s saddle was a foot higher than my head. I hadn’t used a box to mount then, and I sure as hell didn’t need help now. One foot in the stirrup, a bounce, and then swing the leg over. As always, I bit back a giggle. Mounting like that if I’d been wearing a skirt would have been flashing him everything, but jeans were the order of the day. Tonight, Jim was flying back in, and I intended to make myself as alluring as possible for him. I’d missed my husband, and I wanted something I couldn’t get elsewhere. Tonight was the night for a dress, a short, cotton one, I already had it picked out.

Thank you, Jorge.

He tipped his hat in that wonderful old-fashioned way he had and handed me the reins before stepping back. Knowing he was, as always, watching my horsemanship, I wheeled Susie. I started her walking toward the entrance to the yard.

Just as I exited from the gate into the pasture, I heard the distant, and distinctive sound of an engine approaching from the south. I reined in and twisted in the saddle to look back. I wouldn’t put it past Jim to come home early, he’d done so before. Even as I turned my ears filtered through the sound. Rather than the twin-engine Beech, my husband would have been flying, the sound had the distinctive whoop-whoop of helicopter blades. It was one of the ranch hands returning. Probably needing to refuel the helicopter they used to check over the pastures further from the house. I turned back and gently kneed Susie into motion once more. Frustration warred with the boredom inside me.

Ten minutes later, a fold in the ground hid the house, stable, bunkhouse, and barns from view, and I let Susie lengthen her stride until we were moving at a comfortable canter. The sun beat down over my left shoulder, but the breeze from our passage kept the ubiquitous check shirt from getting too hot. I’d put on a thin cotton camisole underneath, over the top of my lace bra. The three layers would be too much if we stood still for too long. In fact, it would feel wonderful to ride along with the shirt bundled up behind me rather than on. The only thing stopping me was the thought if I had an accident, and had to activate the beacon, then the men finding me like that would be embarrassing.

I chuckled to myself, no, keep the shirt on. Besides, should Susie throw me, the shirt would provide some protection. There again, the last time I’d been thrown from a horse I’d been thirteen, half a lifetime ago. That had been my fault, the fence was one I’d jumped before, but the horse hadn’t. It refused, I cleared the fence, but the horse remained on the other side. Six weeks in plaster for a broken shoulder, and no more riding until I’d finished the physiotherapy had taught me a lesson, nothing else could have.

I could tell Susie was enjoying herself, and I let her have her head. After all, the nearest fence was, by now, a couple of miles behind us. In front of us, Jim’s land stretched another five miles or so, down to the creek that formed the western border. About a half-a-mile from that was the road, and ten miles up the road was the nearest town. Hell, the only town for fifty miles. The only thing that made it bearable was the mall. At least I could get a decent coffee there. Thank God for Starbucks.

I guessed Susie was going to be disappointed today. Usually, when we came this way, we’d reach the creek, turn