AN: Hello my dears!

Well, what do you know? If it isn't one of those long chapters I promised all those weeks ago! I know I'm late on the follow-through, but let's all just be glad that it finally happened. I'm not going to say that all chapters from here on out will be this long because, to be honest, I genuinely don't know if that's true. But it's fine. We'll just be surprised together each week:)

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns Zach, Cammie, and the Gallagher Girl universe.

Zach POV

"Are you sure about this?" Cammie asked for the fifth time as she guided a white and gray spotted horse out of his stall and then tied his lead to the bars on the door. The first four times she'd asked, I'd given her nothing but confident assurances. Now though, as I looked at Dragon, I wasn't so sure. The animal was huge. Cammie had called him "a gentle giant of 17 hands." I didn't know what all the hands meant, but she'd gotten the giant part right. And he was supposed to be my ride today.

"Of course," I told her because there was no way in hell I was letting Ryden go on a romantic horseback ride with Cammie. He'd asked her pretty much every day this week, and she always declined. But I knew she wanted to go, and I knew she wasn't going because of me. So, I could either send her off alone with Mr. FarmFresh or suck it up and go along. To me it was a no-brainer.

She eyed me skeptically then planted an unexpected, yet welcome, peck on my lips. "You'd tell me if you didn't want to do this, right?"

Dragon chose that moment to stamp one of his impressive hoofs and toss his mane, and I almost admitted I didn't want to go. I couldn't control that thing. A military grade Humvee? Naturally. An F-16? Done it before. A jetpack? Of course. But a living, breathing creature with a mind of its own and over 1,300 pounds on me? I wasn't so sure about that one.

But then Ryden sauntered in, all smiles, and took out a horse of his own, and my worry shattered against my determination. "I'm all in, Gallagher Girl. Just tell me what to do."

She beamed, excited to show me something she loved. And that smile made any apprehension I was feeling worth it. "I'll show you what to do with Rascal, and you can repeat it with Dragon."

She pulled a deep brown horse from the stall next to Dragon's and took me through the whole grooming process. There were three different brushes that had to be used in a specific order on the coat, then another brush for the tail and mane, and finally a dangerous looking tool (a hooked pick that I kind of wanted to add to my weapons' collection) she used to clean out his hooves. Every move she made, I repeated.

Grooming complete, she showed me to the tack room, and we grabbed the labeled saddle pad, saddle, and bridle for both horses. She directed me to rest everything on the stall door and was just about to demonstrate how to put it all on when Mr. Morgan called to her from the doorway.

"Be back in a minute," she told me, then she shifted her gaze just past me and said, "Ryden, would you mind helping Zach tack Dragon?"

"It would be my pleasure, Cammie Cat."

I glared at her back as she walked away. There was simply no way she was blind to our animosity, and if this was her way of getting us to bond or something, I wasn't amused.

"So," Ryden started as he swaggered around into my line of sight, "never ridden a horse before, huh?"

I tried for civility. "Nope."

"Cammie and I have been riding since we were three." He shook his head slowly and looked me up and down. "I just can't imagine her with someone who doesn't ride."

And I couldn't imagine her with someone who'd never crashed a clandestine meeting between a crime lord and a weapons dealer in the middle of a club in Boston. But I could hardly say that. One of the worst things about being a spy, I was slowly coming to realize, was that even if you could win pretty much any pissing contest, the other guy could never know it.

"Get the saddle pad first."

I bristled at the demand but grabbed the pad anyway and put it on Dragon's back.

"Not like that. Straight edge forward, curved in the back. And you can't just put it in the middle of his back; that indent should be on his withers."

I adjusted it with gritted teeth, but Ryden still wasn't satisfied.

"Don't just throw it up there. It needs to be placed higher then drawn back so it doesn't irritate his coat."

Off the top of my head, I could think of at least five ways to kill him with the saddle pad, and two of them could be made to look like accidents. My fingers were dangerously close to the potential weapon when I forced myself to stop. This was Cammie's friend. We were on her grandparents' ranch. And I really didn't think committing murder in the horse barn would earn me any brownie points from Mr. Morgan.

"Listen, Ryan–"

"Ryden."

"–I think we got off on the wrong foot. I know you think I'm an incompetent city kid." His head tilted in agreement, and my fingers inched even closer to the pad before I stuffed them into a fist at my side. "But you're mistaking incompetence with ignorance. I can't know what I haven't been taught, right? So, if you would just tell me what to do clearly the first time, we can get all this stuff on the horse, make Cammie happy, and then you and I can move on with our lives. Deal?"

Ryden cocked a surprised eyebrow that slowly lowered in suspicion. I was a second away from turning heel and trying to figure everything out on my own when he stuck out his hand. "It's a deal, man."

We shook on it, and he finally started to give me straight instructions.

"The gullet of the saddle should sit just behind the shoulder blade."

"The girth fastens here, and you should be able to fit a fully spread hand between it and your horse."

"The bridle can be tricky. Rest your reins on the horn of the saddle, hold the rest of the straps up and out of the way. Good. Now just feed the bit to Dragon. Make sure it doesn't go under his tongue."

Shortly after we made the last adjustments, Cammie came back; though, she stopped when she saw me holding Dragon's reins and gently petting his muzzle.

She laughed and then mimed holding up a camera—a game we occasionally played knowing we couldn't actually take pictures of each other, security risk and whatnot. "Click." She pretended to look at the picture. "Oh yeah, this one's going in the album."

I rolled my eyes. "Quit slacking, Gallagher Girl. We've been waiting for you long enough."

"Eager to take your new buddy for a ride?"

I shot her a look, but she just laughed again, gave me a mock solute, and got to tacking Rascal. She finished quickly and then we were on our way. She gave me a few basic riding pointers as we left the barn and had me walk Dragon around a small, outdoor arena. Once she was satisfied I could hold my seat, she led the way down a wide, hoof-trodden trail through the woods to the cows' grazing pasture for the summer.

The rocking motion of the horse's gait took some getting used to, but with every step I gained more confidence. Directing him was easy enough; the slightest tug of the reins had him turning whichever way I needed to go. I couldn't say I was completely comfortable, but riding wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Cammie, on the other hand, was in her element. She kept tilting her head back to the sky and taking deep breaths. Then she would bend forward to murmur and coo to her horse while rubbing its neck. Life as a spy made her fulfilled, but being out here on the ranch, riding, made her happy. I made a mental note of that.

With Ryden ahead and out of earshot, she turned to me and asked, "How are you doing? Still nervous?"

I was probably just as surprised as she was when I shook my head. "I'm okay. In fact, I think I'm getting the hang of it," I said as I maneuvered Dragon around the jutting trunk of a fallen tree.

"Nicely done," she praised with genuine pride. "Now that you're an expert and all, when we get back home, we can go on romantic horseback riding dates. I'm pretty sure there's a place about an hour out of D.C. where we could go."

My knee-jerk reaction was to laugh. When I thought about going home, all I could picture was work, work, and more work. There would be briefings and debriefings, bursting file folders and reports, not to mention our handler had been hinting at a mission in Romania with my name on it. Time for dates like that was simply something neither of us had.

But even though Cammie was joking, I still took a moment to imagine going on that date with her. I'd be struggling. She'd be laughing. And the sun would hit her hair just right to give her a golden halo. It would be perfect. Unfortunately, it would have to remain a fantasy until we shook our "rookie" status in the CIA and all of the extra busywork that came with it.

"Nice one, Gallagher Girl, but since when do we go on dates?" I said lightly, masking the bitterness in my voice. She was only trying to mess with me and my lack of riding skills. I didn't want to bring the mood down by showing how irritated I was about not actually being able to take her on that date.

But instead of replying with her own remark, Cammie looked…troubled. The smile had dropped, and her brow had creased ever so slightly. She even looked a little pale.

"Cammie, are you o–"

"We're here!" Ryden called back to us.

And just like that, Cammie shook off whatever had upset her and smiled at me again. "Come on. It's really cool to see them all together like this."

Then she urged Rascal forward and I could do nothing but try to keep up. She would tell me if something was bothering her, right? It must not have been serious.

When we joined Ryden, the trail opened up to reveal a huge field filled with a few hundred cows enjoying a mild, summer day, chewing, sleeping, and lowing. To the left there was just open space that seemed to continue for miles; though, Cammie assured me an electric fence surrounded the entire area. To the right was a continuation of the woods. And directly ahead was a broad strip of open space between the trees and the fence to the grazing pasture.

We rode down that strip for a while, and Cammie pointed out some of her favorite cows, calling them by number.

"I still don't know how you know which one's which without looking at their tags," Ryden said. "They've all got basically the same coloring."

Cammie turned to me with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes and mouthed the words 'Notice things.' I rubbed a hand across my mouth to hide a smile. Joe would've been proud.

"Welp," Ryden said with a stretch, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm over all this walking. What'd ya say to racing back to the barn?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Cammie said with a nervous look in my direction.

"Mm. You're probably right. I forgot Zach's a beginner."

The words sounded so sincere, but I could hear the smirk in them, and I knew he was baiting me. And yet, somehow I couldn't help myself. "It's fine, Cammie. I think I've gotten the hang of it. A race sounds fun."

She worried her lip. "Zach, I really don't think–"

"It'll be fine, Gallagher Girl. Since when do I ever lose my balance?" I raised a meaningful eyebrow. "Madrid."

With that one word I could see her recalling the mission we went on a few months ago in Spain, specifically the part where we escaped a spray of bullets via a six-inch wide ledge and a makeshift tightrope. Word of advice: don't become a spy if you're afraid of heights.

She finally conceded, but we still didn't leave for another few minutes as she told me how to get Dragon to trot and where to press my heels to make him canter. Apparently you don't just kick at their sides like they do in the movies.

"Ready?" Cammie asked. I smiled and nodded. She smiled back and then, with a subtle shift of her boot, she and Rascal bolted away, and Ryden and I were left sitting there waiting for the "set, go."

The surprise lasted for only a moment, and we both took off after her. The faster pace certainly made the ride bumpier, but I tried to move with the seat like Cammie had told me to. I wasn't sure how successful I was since my rear kept lifting from the saddle, but any fear I might've felt was completely overshadowed by my desire to beat Ryden.

We were neck and neck for a long minute, but Dragon, with his longer legs, eventually pulled ahead, and I let out a "whoop!" of victory.

"I wouldn't celebrate yet if I were you!" Ryden taunted from behind me.

"You sound awfully confident for someone who's losing right now!" I called back.

Perhaps it was only due to the prospect of beating Ryden, but with the trees overhead, and the wind rushing past, and the rhythmic beat of the hooves below, I thought I was finally coming to understand what Cammie loved about riding.

Then Ryden yelled, "And you sound awfully confident for someone who's slipping!"

"I'm not slip–"

But I was. The whole saddle was slipping, actually. I tried to squeeze my legs tighter around Dragon, but his middle was too big and the saddle had already tilted too far and gravity was too consistent. So, I fell.

I landed hard on my side and momentum carried me through a few rolls before depositing me in a mud puddle. I sat up, gasping for my lost breath, and watched as Dragon continued toward the barn as if his saddle wasn't hanging below his belly and his rider hadn't just eaten dirt…or mud, as the case may be. Traitor.

I had just enough time to be grateful that I'd gotten my shoes out of the stirrups before taking the tumble when Ryden charged past me, laughing. And going significantly faster than he had been before. He'd been messing with me, I realized, as he and Dragon both disappeared around a curve. And my fall had given him just that much more satisfaction.

I really, really wanted to punch something—specifically Ryden's face. But even if he'd been right in front of me, that, unfortunately, wouldn't have been an option thanks to CoveOps rule #58: Don't punch civilians in the face. I hated that it was one of Joe's rules. A later addition. To my understanding, it was introduced after a tricky lawsuit in Guam.

With no other options barring punching a tree and breaking my fingers, I calmly stood, squeezed as much muddy water from my clothes as possible, and walked back to the barn.

AN: Thanks a million for reading this longer installment! Let me know your thoughts in a helpful critique or encouraging comment. Or, you know, you could just trash me in the reviews. Drag me through the mud...much like how Zach was just dragged through the mud. (Yes, technically he fell and rolled into the mud. Semantics.)

Anyway, I hope you liked this slightly-more-exciting-than-the-last-few-chapters chapter. Fun fact, all of the horse names I have used and will use in this story are stolen from horses I used to ride. Even the dog mentioned in chapter one is named after my grandpa's old herding dog. Dragon was a giant, dappled horse my brother used to ride. Unfortunately, Dragon passed away a number of years ago, but it was fun writing him (and other long gone animals) into this story. Rest in peace, babies.

Much love, Rachel