I was on Old Jane. Ben was on Champ. We had spent two days in the hills searching for the stupid rocks Ben wanted to find.

The horses were exhausted. I was exhausted. And yet we are still in the stupid hills of Wyoming.

“What are we even looking for?” I asked for the hundredth time.

Ben sighed for the hundredth time. “Rachel, I promise we are almost there…” he trailed off.

Turning around a bolder, the swirling patterns were spread across a giant rock canyon.

“This is ridiculous.” I said, about more than one thing.