Careless Hope (Whittier Falls #2)

Chapter 1

1

Walker

The ground came up to greet me like an old friend with a rough handshake. It’s funny how time seems to slow during split-second mishaps. One moment I was leading Zeus into a canter. The next, I was flying through the air, bucked off the stallion’s back.

And now that I was in slow motion, I had time to think about stuff. I’d thought about the last time I’d been thrown from a horse—almost a damn year ago, thank you very much. I’d thought of how I didn’t want to be doing this—breaking horses, training horses—much longer. Or at least not only this. Thought about how I was stuck in this role, desperate for my older brother’s approval but determined to make him see the value in my ideas.

And I’d thought that Zeus was a damn asshole. Even though I loved him.

And after all of that, which was a hell of a lot of thinkin’ for a guy like me, I’d thought about how the hell all those thoughts entered my head while I was in the air. Time had to have slowed down. That was the only explanation .

But then, reality struck.

I crashed to the ground with a thud that would surely leave my whole ass bruised. Dust swirled before my eyes, and if the Earth had a way of laughing, I reckon it would’ve sounded a lot like my great uncle Harry’s tobacco-infused gravelly chuckle. I took a minute to just lay there, sprawled out with the sky above painted a relentless blue, wondering if every cowboy’s rite of passage was to taste the grit of their own land.

“Shoot, Walker, you alright?” Mason’s voice cut through the quiet aftermath of my impromptu dismount. His shadow fell over me, offering a momentary reprieve from the sun’s interrogation.

“Never better,” I grunted, pushing myself into a sitting position. “Just taking a quick inventory of the dirt quality. It’s top-notch this season.”

Mason extended a hand, rough and steadfast like weathered oak, pulling me to my feet with a firm yank. “Zeus really doin’ a number on you, huh?”

“Ah, he’s just spirited,” I said, brushing off my jeans and adjusting my hat. The stallion in question snorted from a safe distance, tossing his mane like he’d won some grand victory. “Ain’t nothing a bit of patience and understanding can’t fix.”

“Patience, huh?” Mason raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. He knew the silent language that passed between a man and a beast, the unspoken agreement to figure each other out or part ways trying.

I took a slow breath and turned to face Zeus. He was power wrapped in dark hide, muscles rippling beneath his coat like storm clouds rolling across the prairie. Our gazes locked—a challenge issued and accepted without a word. He was done for the day.

“Let’s get him back to the stables,” I suggested, and we moved towards the towering presence of Zeus, our boots thudding softly against the well-trodden earth.

“He’s a handful, but’ll give us some good foals.”

“Sure will,” I said, patting his flank before grabbing the reins.

“You worked on that business plan like I told you?” Mason asked, not making eye contact. We had an unspoken agreement. He was helping me with my idea to expand the ranch operations, but he didn’t want my brother Gray to know about it.

When our dad died, the ranch was left to the both of us, but as the oldest son, Gray took over the leadership. And I was just fine with that. I didn’t want to be in charge of the whole operation, and I’d surely fuck it up. Our friend Mason, who’d grown up with us and was a second-generation rancher at Red Downs, was made the ranch manager, who handled the finances and other boring shit I had no interest in.

They were both great at their jobs. And I didn’t want to be them. But I felt stuck in a rut of having nothing of my own to work on. Nothing to take ownership of, to make something grow from nothing. I was part owner of the biggest ranch in the area and I had no more responsibility than the part time ranch hands we hired from the local high school during the summer.

Which was what I’d wanted years ago.

Waking up, working the horses and land, and then leaving it all behind at the end of the day was just fine with me. Limited responsibility and plenty of time to do whatever I wanted, which was usually drinking and hooking up with as many girls as I could.

I shook my head as I thought how time surely does change things. Gray’d been on my case for years about not working hard enough, not living up to my potential, not giving a fuck about anything. And I hated to admit he’d had a point. But things were different now and he was reluctant to believe it.

“Well?” Mason asked, bringing me back to the present.

“I’m workin’ on it. You know I’m not the best with all the financial shit.”

“I told you, I’d look over it and help.”

“I know. I think it’s comin’ along though.” That was a bald-face lie. I hadn’t written a damn word. Not for lack of trying. I’d sat with my laptop staring at the business plan template Mason had emailed me and tried for hours. And then again, the next day. And then the next week. And I still had fuck all. “I’ll send it over to you next week.” Please, God, send me a miracle.

Mason turned his head to finally look at me and nodded, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

“I told you, I’m determined.”

“I know you are. You’ve been wanting this for a long time. Gray’ll come ‘round.”

A lead weight settled in my gut as guilt for lying to Mason hit me hard. He believed in me more than anyone else, except maybe Mama. But I told myself it was the result that mattered, not the process. I’d get the damn thing done if it damn near killed me.

Leading Zeus back to the stables, the air seemed to shift around us, heavy with the scent of hay and the musk of horses. Mason clapped me on the back and returned to his office just off the other side of the building.

I slipped into the rhythm of ranch work like a familiar melody, scooping feed into troughs with practiced ease. The horses greeted me with soft nickers, their breath warm and sweet as they nuzzled my palms for treats. I couldn’t help but smile; these creatures were more than just animals—they were companions, confidants, symbols of a legacy that pulsed through my veins.

A couple of the other guys had already done most of the mucking out, but I preferred to do certain stalls myself. I loved all the horses, but I had a special bond with some of them, and others, like Zeus, were just downright tough to control.

Gray probably didn’t realize it, but with every stall cleaned and every flank brushed, I felt my connection to the land and our legacy grow stronger. It’d always been that way, I was just shit and showing it. But you don’t grow up on a horse ranch that’d been around for over a hundred and sixty years without absorbing that heritage, and the sense of duty that came with it.

My movements were pure muscle memory, an ode to the long days spent here and the generations who had worked this land before me. It was comfortable. It was a comfort. But that restlessness still stirred within, a hunger for something more than just the same old daily routine. An urge to expand our legacy into something bigger.

“Easy there, Apollo,” I murmured, running a gentle hand along the dappled gray coat of an old gelding. He leaned into the touch, his trust a testament to years of care and kinship. If only people were as easy to win over as horses.

“Good boy,” I whispered, the words hanging in the air like a promise. In this realm of leather and straw, of sweat and dreams, I was building something—a future where my name meant more than just another Anderson on the payroll.

Zeus watched me from his stall, his dark eyes holding a glint of respect now, or maybe it was simply the reflection of the overhead lights. Either way, I knew we had reached an understanding, a mutual recognition that we were both striving to find our place at Red Downs Ranch. Maybe to find our place beyond it, too.

The rhythmic sound of my boots against the stable floor brought a kind of peace that only a man who’s carved his soul from the land could understand. I was shoveling hay, lost in thought, when the shadow of my brother filled the doorway— a looming presence that set the dust motes dancing in a shaft of late afternoon light.

“Got a minute?” he asked, voice gruff as the stubble on his face.

“Always got time for you,” I replied, leaning on the wooden handle of my pitchfork, knowing full well our ideas of ‘time’ differed like night and day.

Gray stepped closer, his eyes scanning the stalls before landing on me. “Zeus give you trouble again?”

I hesitated, because I knew Gray was thinking about selling Zeus. He had a good lineage and the potential to produce some great foals but he was rough and the training was taking longer than it should. In my mind, that wasn’t a reason to ship him off. Some of us just need more time than others.

I shook my head.

“More like a conversation without words,” I said, the corner of my mouth twitching at the understatement. Zeus was a storm in equine form, but damn if I didn’t respect him for it.

“Those types of conversations can be costly,” Gray muttered, his gaze flickering to the fence post outside that still wore the scars of Zeus’s last ‘chat.’

“Speaking of costs . . . ” I started, brushing a stray piece of straw from my flannel sleeve. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking can be more costly than talking,” he quipped, but I caught a hint of curiosity beneath his skepticism.

“I want to present my business plan to you. For real. We’ve been talkin’ in circles for almost a year now and you’ve gotta sit down and really listen.”

“Walk, I have listened?—”

“And I,” I interrupted, undeterred, “have gotta prove to you that I’ve done my research and it’s a good idea. ”

He grunted, which was one of his usual responses, and could have meant any number of things.

“Alright, when d’you wanna do this then?”

“I’m workin’ on it now. How about next Friday?” Hopefully that would give Mason enough time to look it over. This was a spur of the moment thing and I was already regretting saying anything to my brother.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ll listen to what you have to say and look over your plan. But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not makin’ a single promise.”

“Right, I said, sighing. That’s how it’d been for the past year. I just had to hope it would be different this time. And work like hell to make it so.