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“How long have you had him?”
“Uh, two days.”
“Where’d you get him?”
She suddenly whipped toward me, shoving a hand on her hip. “What’s with the third degree? Stop asking questions and just fix him.”
I pushed off from the rail and stepped toward her, nearly flush with her body, and glared down at her. “I’m asking these questions so I can help him. Now, tell me what you know about this horse, or take him and get out.”
Her eyes widened, so round that they nearly bugged out of her head. The shadow of my entire body swamped hers; despite her being tall—maybe nearly six foot—I was still taller. And whatever look she was giving me, I was struggling to interpret as everything in my body swam with warmth.
“I-I-I—” she stuttered, words not coming out of her mouth as I tipped my head to one side. Her brows twitched, furrowing together, and then she subconsciously mirrored my movement. Hot breath escaped her lips slowly, mixing with the summer air and washing over my neck. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, driving me a little mad in all the right ways.
“You…what?” I drawled, tipping my head the other way.
She followed suit, and her lips parted slightly. “I-I don’t know much about him.”
“Hmmm.” I raised a single brow, straightened my head, and smirked. Her chest rose abruptly, and my stomach swirled with the tightening of a cinch that had unintentionally locked us together.
Stepping back, I turned away, inhaling sharply. What was that, Cassidy?
“So, what do you know?” I leaned back against the rail, entwining my fingers as the horse finally slowed to at least a trot, huffing hard.
“If I tell you, you promise you’ll help?” she quietly asked beside me.
“I already promised that, Goldie, so nothing you’re going to say will cause me to go back on my word.”
“He’s been abused since I found out about him three or four years ago. The only reason he’s not emaciated is because he was used to sire several foals, and well, he brought in money, so he was at least given plenty of feed.”
“Money for who?” I asked, lifting a brow as the horse slowed even more.
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” she snapped. “You’ll be able to help him, right?”
Man, that attitude was going to be the death of me. “I’ll do my best.”
“Oh.” She sighed heavily beside me, and I glanced at her hesitantly, keeping my own strange feelings in check. “I don’t have any money to pay you.”
The sunlight danced across her dewy, golden skin; her thumb ran back and forth over callouses on the palms of her hands. This girl knew work, and had known work for a long time. She sucked in a cheek, tightening the softness on her face.
“I can work off whatever I’ll owe you for training him. I grew up around cattle, ranching with my dad. Or I can do regular chores like mucking out stalls or—”
“We’re supposed to take the cattle up to summer pasture in a few days,” I said, cutting her off, and glanced back at the horse that was walking slowly around the round pen, digging on the ground. “It’s typically a two-day trip until we drive them up to the next one, which will give this guy time to settle in. I’ll have my brother or someone make sure he’s given hay and water while we are gone. You can prove to me that you know what you’re doing during chores and the cattle drive. How’s that sound?”
She nodded vigorously, a tight smile creeping over her gentle face.
“I can’t have you staying in the bunkhouse with the guys, so I’ll chat with my mom, but I bet you can stay at the main house in my old room.” I paused and faced her, staring intensely at her. Her smile faltered. “Is there anything else I should know, Briar with no last name?”
Her inhale was shaky, and she looked away from me. “No,” she whispered, refusing to meet my eye.
Lie.
“Alright, do you have your clothes and stuff?” I asked, wanting to pry more, but the fear that still laced her eyes had me holding my tongue.
“Yes,” she answered. “Thank you!”
I glanced back at the stallion that pawed at the dirt, sweat glistening on his dull coat. Her footsteps receded from beside me. I wasn’t technically supposed to hire someone without Weston’s consent, but he would let this slide, right? If I explained what was going on, he’d have to. It wasn’t like Weston to not help someone when they needed it.
Plus, I couldn’t let this horse leave without giving him a chance. He looked terrified, and while he was well muscled with his eyes and ears on constant swivel, everything else looked lifeless. At least whatever he’d been through, whatever abuse he’d suffered hadn’t turned him off completely. That was a start and something that I could work with.
