Saddle sore and weary from hours of trail riding, Moriah dropped from the side of her pinto mustang. “Good girl, River. How about some water and food.” She pulled her arms over her head, bent to touch the ground, then straightened up. She lifted her head and looked at the snow-tipped mountain in front of them. The stream gurgled a few feet from her and the breeze brought the tip of her ponytail across her nose. She pushed it out of her sight.
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