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What if the horse doesn’t stop?
We stare each other down, and I tighten my muscles, bracing for whatever Prince throws my way. He tosses his silky mane, but his hoof beats stumble, slowing, and I know I’ve won this round.
Holding up my hand, I quietly rumble, “Whoa, boy,” reaching out to see if he’ll stop completely to let me pat him, and I’m rewarded for a split second.
Prince halts with a snort, allowing me to reach forward for just long enough to unsnap the lunge line from his halter before trying to nip my arm and racing to the other side of the paddock. The stunning beast kicks his feet, bucking and tossing clods of dirt this way and that to share his displeasure.
Reaching up, I wipe some of the sweat from my brow and take a deep breath. The fresh mountain air fills my lungs, along with the scents of hay and grain that waft from the barn. It smells like home, happiness, and just a hint of summer that’s right around the corner.
“Beautiful, but kind of a dick,” my brother Reed says, climbing up onto the fence rails and peering over at me. His jeans, boots and tawny cowboy hat paint quite the picture of the old-school cowboy persona he’s embraced.
“Yee-haw, big brother,” I joke, chuckling when his dark eyes narrow on me, flicking down to my dusty old sneakers and then up to the blue baseball cap shading my face. “You’ve got some hay on your jeans.”
“Shut it,” he grumbles, jaw clenching as he refuses to check for the misplaced stalk, even though I know it’s killing him inside. He jumps down and unlatches the gate for me, clapping me on the back and bumping our shoulders together as I leave the pen.
The second it swings shut, clinking behind me, Blue, my bluetick coonhound, is all up in my business, sniffing and circling me as though checking to make sure the horse didn’t hurt me.
“I’m okay, Buddy, I promise,” I soothe him, stroking his dark black ears. He looks up at me, tosses back his head, and releases a throaty howl that causes Prince to buck in the pen and take off, tail held high, flowing behind him in smooth black lines, as he rushes from end to end.
“Seriously though, brother, that horse has no chill. There’s no shame in tapping out. We can always ask Adam for help,” he offers and though I scoff, the idea is a good one.
Adam has a gift when it comes to difficult horses. Honestly, all of my five brothers do. Dad had us up on horseback before we could even walk; Ma, too. She was riding and training with us kids strapped to her chest at only a few weeks old. But Adam’s affinity for them is something special. He’s gruff and moody under the best of circumstances, yet somehow, even the most hostile animals instantly fall in love with him.
“Ya, I’ll give it a few more days before begging the Beast for help,” I agree, wandering toward the barn as Reed snorts at the secret nickname for our eldest brother. Blue lopes easily ahead of us, his black and white coat shining in the sun. He heads toward the next set of chores, used to the routines of life on the ranch, when something catches his attention high on the ridge.
His body becomes taut, nose straight, and he lifts one front leg in his standard hound pose—pointing. My head whips around, and my eyes scan the hill, searching for some kind of threat, a coyote or an unknown person. The horses really aren’t vulnerable, so we rarely have to worry about these things out on the ranch, but it’s always possible.
“Is that a kid?” Reed asks just as my gaze lands on the small lump sitting near one of our guest cottages. Squinting, I make out some sandy hair and small shoulders. And the child looks to be staring right at us.
“I think so? Did anyone say anything about another new client?” I ask. Being a breeding and training facility, my parents’ ranch often has visitors, and we have a few small cabins throughout the property to accommodate them comfortably. The land is thousands of acres and although my parents live in the main house, each of my brothers and I have built our own homes on our family land. We’re close, but we all have our own space, which is a vast improvement over bunking together the way we did during the teenage years.
“Ugh, I hope not,” Reed groans. “We’re so full up right now even you’re training a problem horse. I don’t know how we could possibly take on another.”
Gravel crunches behind us, signaling yet another family member making their appearance, and I brace for the incoming arm punch or back slap. Brothers. But when one doesn’t occur, I twist to see my father.
“Boys,” he says, “I see Blue has noticed our new guests.”
He nods his head in my dog’s direction, tipping his black cowboy hat forward. My pup is no longer as tense, but his eyes still haven’t left the child on the hill—and I guess it makes sense; Blue absolutely loves children. Every chance he gets, he’s wiggling his way into snuggles and hugs like the big nanny dog he wants to be. Not happening anytime soon, Bud.
As we all watch the ridge, a small blond tornado rushes outside, calling for her child. She looks around frantically for a moment before spotting him, her long hair ruffled by the light breeze. Her jeans look like they’re painted on and her shirt clings to her lithe body. Even at this distance, her beauty takes my breath away.
“Well, I think we should head up there and say hello to our new neighbor,” Reed says, wiggling his eyebrows, which gives me the sudden urge to tackle him. He’s a bit of a playboy, but I can’t say I don’t want to march up there to meet her too.
“You two, actually you six, are to steer clear of that little lady and her son,” our father commands, his tone brokering no argument. Reed stares at him, his mouth gaping open in surprise.
“Why?” he squeaks out, shock apparent on his face. Our parents are almost always pushing all six of us into any available woman’s arms. They want grandbabies, and to their extreme disappointment, not a single one of us has so much as held a steady girlfriend.
“She isn’t a client. They are just guests staying here for a bit. She’s the niece of one of my buddies and he called in a favor. It seems she and her son need a soft place to land. Now, I don’t know all the details, but it sounds like the gal’s been through a real rough patch. The last thing I want is for you fools to scare her away,” he says with finality.
He turns on his heel, heading toward the barn to pull hay for the horse’s evening feed, and Reed and I both know we ought to follow. Still, my gaze lingers on the woman towing her young son into the house.
The little guy raises his hand, giving the smallest wave, and Blue barks, howling out a greeting. Unable to stop myself, I lift a hand, acknowledging him, and I think for just a moment I see a tiny smile light up the kid’s face.
A warmth spreads through my body, and my heart thumps. My curiosity is peaked…
There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to stay away.
Chapter Two
