Saddle Up for Dust and Lust

Mittens was smitten by The Rancher’s Legacy as soon as she spotted Deborah Garofano’s western romance by the window where Nancy, her book-loving companion, had left it.

Everyone knows, after all, that feline instinct allows a cat to judge a book by its cover. This one depicted a confident young woman striding toward galloping horses surrounded by sunset-drenched mountains. It screamed cowboys, and no woman—feline or human, Mittens meowed—ever dreamed about being swept off her feet by an accountant.

“Yippee yi yo kayah,” she chirruped. Clawing her scent onto the book and grabbing her best cowgirl hat, Mittens relaxed her whiskers, outstretched her black and white head toward the book, and circled the sofa back to find the right spot. Then she settled in for a good ride into the lavishly rustic world of Montana ranching.

Through the eyes of Eliza, a sophisticated, organized, and feisty young woman, Mittens trilled at the love triangle that emerges between Eliza and two very different ranchers—Harlan, an older billionaire developer, and Stone, a brawny ranch hand.

Eliza, who worked from home as an editor for an East Coast publisher, reveled in finding a “big word of the day.” Mittens got a kick out of that. Far from being a word nerd, she relies on vocalizations, ear twitches, and tail flicks to express herself. So, this was new for her. She liked the word enigma.

“That’s like being in a warm Florida home,” she purred, eyes shrinking to slits. “Yet I’m surrounded by snowbound big skies.”

Mittens immersed herself in the Rocky Mountains and idyllic fly-fishing troves of the Gallatin River. Her pink tongue flicked at the thought of fresh fish. Her fur softened as she envisioned herself dressed to kill at the posh cattle baron’s ball. And with eyes wide, she took in a deep whiff, scrunched her face, and growled when Eliza fought off a bear and overpowered an armed intruder. But when Eliza nearly succumbed to a near-fatal illness, Mittens huffed.

“That’s what you get for living in Freezerville.”

Another “big word” she liked was acquiesced. Giving in to long-forgotten sexual desires, Mittens was bitten by fantasies of being wooed by wealth and passion. Tail tilted upward and purring softly, she remembered long-ago urges as she read the love triangle that kicked up dust and lust.

Besides mewling at the irreverent humor that often accentuated the sex scenes, Mittens loved the descriptions, like Harlan having “a cement truck full of confidence” and Eliza no longer being “a lodgepole pine.” Instead, “she’d be a mangrove.”

Mangroves teased Mittens back to the present and compunction—ah ha, her own big word of the day. Slipping the cowgirl hat off her head, she rued having reached the story’s end. For having vicariously experienced joy, tragedies, and hope, Mittens wanted more.

Sensing her misgivings, Nancy scooped her up.

“Don’t worry, Mittens,” she cooed, cradling her into a hug. “There’s a sequel coming out later this year.”

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