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Albie couldn’t read too well: he’d never had much time for school, but he could read well enough. His name, his father’s estate, and the deeds to Echo Creek. That was all he needed to know.
And so, with a scribble of a blue fountain pen, it was done.
Albie had perhaps expected more. He wasn’t sure what exactly he expected more of, but when Mr Flannigan congratulated him and said it was done, Albie felt... empty. Sad, and a little lost.
And very much alone.
Deciding he should eat and find a bed for the night, Albie rode to the hotel he’d stayed at before. The saloon was always loud and rowdy, but the food was good and the rooms were clean. He slid down from his horse and tied her to the railing just as a dog came from nowhere, barking and snapping at his horses.
Albie held onto Minnie’s reins as he tried to kick at the still-barking dog, yelling at it to get lost. It snapped at his ankle and Minnie shied away, but Ox pulled and stomped, and Albie tried to calm both his horses. Then the feral dog snapped at Ox’s hind fetlock and the big horse kicked and pulled, his tether coming free.
He reared up, his eyes wild, all while the dog still barked. People stood by and watched, and Albie grasped for Ox’s tether, but Ox pulled back, out of reach. He neighed and stomped at the dog, ready to bolt. The crowd scattered, and Minnie jacked up now as well, and Albie was about to lose control of both horses in front of everyone...
Until someone raced in from behind, quick as a whip, and grabbed Ox’s tether. Albie was so busy trying to calm Minnie and get rid of the menace dog, he hadn’t realised just how fast Ox had quietened.
“Woah, boy,” the man said, talking calm and gentle, holding the tether near the bridle—holding strong but talking sweet—and he soon had Ox under control. The dog had been scared away, and all that was left was the chatter of the spectators, the hard breathing of the horses, and Albie’s hammering heart.
It was then the man turned around and walked Ox back toward him. He looked no older than Albie. He had straight blondish hair, a little longer than men normally wore. He had blue eyes and a roguish smile. His white shirt wasn’t too clean, his brown pants not much better, his boots were well-worn, and his muscled forearms were that of a horseman.
“He almost got away from ya,” he said, handing the tether to Albie. “Fine-looking horse it is.”
“Thank you,” Albie said, still a little breathless. He gave Ox a reassuring pat and did a quick once over. He was, thankfully, fine. “That blasted dog.”
“Nuisance dog, it is,” the man said. “It’s with the last bullock team that came through. Reckon they’ll be gone tonight.” He ran his hand through his dirty blond hair and licked his lips, and Albie was taken aback by just how handsome the man in front of him was. He’d only dreamed of such men, and even then, his dreams didn’t quite do this man justice.
It took a moment for Albie to remember his manners. “I’m indebted to you.”
“It was no problem at all, mister.”
Albie stuck out his hand. “The name’s Albie Bramwell.”
The man smiled, all roguish and charming. His grip was firm and warm, but his eyes were like blue fire. “Nice to meet you, Albie. I’m Percy Collins.”
Chapter Two
Percy had heard the commotion outside the saloon and, like everyone else, went to investigate. A man and his two horses were being rounded up by that nuisance dog that had bit at the horses’ hooves the night before. People were gathered around watching, unsure of what to do. Perhaps frightened by the size of the unsettled horse or the aggressive dog.
Fools, Percy thought. Don’t just stand there!
But stand there, they did.
The dog was savage, and the black horse was big. Percy couldn’t deny the scene was intimidating, especially given the horse was rearing up, braying, and kicking. It wasn’t the horse’s fault, nor was it the horse owner’s fault either. That stupid dog snapped at horses’ hooves, and it would serve itself right if it were kicked in the head.
Before Percy could stop himself, he ran into the middle of it all and grabbed the black horse’s reins. It took all his strength to hold him, every muscle straining, and at least someone had the sense to hunt the dog away with a broom.
The crowd gathered around them muttered and whispered, and Percy calmed the horse with soft words and gentle strokes, leading it back to his owner. He was young, not much older than Percy, if he were to guess. He was tall, had short brown hair, tanned skin, and light brown eyes, and Percy had to make himself not stare.
So very handsome.
Don’t get caught staring...
“He almost got away from ya,” he said, handing the tether to the owner. “Fine-looking horse it is.”
And it was. At least sixteen hands, black as night, bright eyes.
“Thank you,” the man said, still a little breathless. He gave the big horse a reassuring pat and did a quick once over. “That blasted dog...”
“Nuisance dog, it is,” Percy said. “It’s with the last bullock team that came through. Reckon they’ll be gone tonight.” He ran his hand through his hair and Percy caught the man’s eye for the briefest flicker before he looked away.
