Hudson's Heart

Hudson's Heart Chapter Two

The nervous anticipation, that's been slowly building in the pit of my stomach all week, is only intensified on the flight. Now, I'm sitting in the back of an SUV, en route to the ranch where I'm going to be staying for the next two weeks. That same anticipation has now peaked. It's making me nauseous and giddy with effervescent excitement. Shit . . . I am finally in the US of A!

I sit with a few strangers, wearing nothing but an over eager grin and a head full of hope.

"So where have you come from?" asks the attractive redhead, sitting opposite me. Her boyfriend or husband has his arm casually draped over her bare shoulder. She throws me such a friendly smile; it's almost impossible to not feel at ease with her straight away.

"I'm from Dorset," I respond, returning her warm smile.

She glances across at her partner. "We're from Oxford, aren't we, love?" He nods, agreeing with a small smile. She then looks back at me. "So have you come alone, then?"

With my head high and shoulders back, I reply, "Yes, I have." It probably does seem ridiculous, but I really am proud of my kick-ass confident self.

The personable redhead looks impressed. "Fair play, girlie, that's brave," she says with a quirked brow.

"Or insane, as my mother would prefer to call it," I chuckle quietly to myself.

She laughs too, shuffling forward in her seat with her hand outstretched. "My name is Suzie and this is my husband, Greg," she says with a wide grin. Her quiet hubby leans across to shake my hand as well.

"I'm Georgina, Georgie to my friends. It's very nice to meet you."

Suzie grins. "You, too. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other out on the ranch and things?"

"I expect so," I whimsically reply.

My attention is being pulled in another direction.

Looking out of the truck window, I am in complete awe of this vast and beautifully uncomplicated place. There are no large buildings or housing estates, just wide-open beautiful space that's surrounded by wondrous valleys and mountainous terrain. The rolling grassy hills go on and on, as far as the eyes will fortunately allow. I feel myself already getting lost in the splendour of the surrounding prairie. My daydreaming mind shows to me a perfect vision of myself. I'm riding through it, with the wind in my hair and only my horse and this gorgeous place for company.

Could it honestly be any more perfect?

Prairie Point Ranch is not your stereotypical Western ranch. It is spectacularly immaculate, oozing homely sophistication. The main house is a large impressive timber lodge, surrounded by quaint rustic log and frame cabins. Further from the house are barns, indoor and outdoor horseback arenas with striking white fencing all around their paddocks. As ranches go, this really is picture perfect. It's a working ranch, but a luxurious one at that. The bubbling excitement within me is surfacing, once again.

I feel as though, I'm in some sleek Western film. Everywhere I look, there are attractive men and women busily walking around in their Stetson hats, Western shirts, and denim jeans. I feel a little under dressed without a hat and a shoestring necktie, but at least, I'm wearing a pair of jeans.
One of the strangers in our group is wearing what looks like a short evening dress. Positively over dressed, she probably feels far worse than I do, at the present moment.

I sit there, smugly knowing that I actually look okay in my black fitted T-shirt and indigo jeans. No doubt, my long dark hair will be slightly dishevelled after all the travelling, but its corkscrew curls will cut me some slack. I run my fingers quickly through it before getting out of the vehicle.