CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
“Can I help you, missy?” I let out a squeal and spin around. “Sorry to startle you. I figgered old hoss here would make enough noise to wake the dead. He ain’t got a quiet, polite bone in his body. Bites the hand that feeds him most days, too.”
The old man looking down from that horse could have been Old Jeb’s relative. Not in looks but everything else that screams cowboy. They would have been pard’s for sure.
“Well, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a smile like that, but it sure is a pretty one. If you’ve a mind to stay awhile, I’m just heading home to make coffee. Meet me in front of the ranch house in a few minutes. I’ll put this ornery hoss in the stables and then I’ll join you.”
“That would be lovely.” Jumping back into the truck, I park it near the house, and drop a quick text to Cork telling him I’m running late but I’m okay.
Hearing the old cowboy cursing the horse in the stables, I walk over and see him struggling to unsaddle him. Walking over, I take the reins and walk the horse around in a circle, talking to it all the time. There are no magic words, just introducing myself and telling him what I’m going to do.
After a couple of circles, I stand in front of him and look him in the eyes. Rubbing his face and neck, the old cowboy speaks quietly.
“Don’t you trust him none, miss. He’s bit everyone he’s ever met. We had a lady vet come to him once. He bit her shoulder, picked her up and tossed her clean out of the stall they were in. She never did treat the old cuss.”
Walking down the horse's side, still rubbing him, I slowly unbuckle the cinch and then reach for the saddle. The horse turns to watch me, and although I’m ready to bolt if he tries to bite or kick, he just watches as I remove the saddle.
“Well, I’ll be. I’ve had to fight that old hoss every time I’ve put that saddle on or took it off’n him since the day I got him.
I’ve never seen him so docile in all his born days.
” Shaking his head in amazement, he points to a battered bucket half full of oats in a corner.
“Try giving him that bucket and see what he does, would you?”
Walking over to the bucket, I pick it up and take a handful in my left hand.
The horse watches me approach and by the way he looks at the bucket, he prefers to eat his oats off the floor.
Holding out my hand with the oats, I wait to see what he’s going to do.
There’s a calculating look in his eyes, and I squint back at him as if to dare him to try something.
I swear that I saw that horse flinch and then think twice about what he was going to do.
Taking the oats from my hand, I put the bucket down in front of him.
Standing by the old cowboy, we watch as the horse tucks into the oats with impeccable table manners, not upending the bucket once.
“Well, little lady, if this were still a working horse ranch, I’d give you a job right this instant. That’s a God-given gift you have right there, it surely is.”
“I spent eight years cowboyin’ horses and cows. They just need to know who’s boss. It doesn’t always take a heavy hand to be one, neither. Not that I mean you’re heavy-handed. He’s just set in his ways with you, is all. Is that offer of coffee still on the table?”
We’re seated at the table in the enormous kitchen dining area in the ranch house. I introduced myself, and Colt had told me his name. “You are so not called Colt Farrier! Colt Farrier the horse rancher? No way, José!”
“Yup. My daddy thought it was funny, and my ma was never one to argue with anyone or anything, so Colt Farrier I was named. My ex-wife's maiden name was Margaret Gelding. You couldn’t write this stuff, I tell you.”
We spend an hour swapping life stories. I tell him all about Old Jeb, and he tells me all about the ranch. I notice he never mentions the ex-wife.
“You haven’t mentioned your marriage.” I have to ask, as it’s unusual for a man of Colt’s age to say nothing.
“Not much to say. She thought I was a rich rancher because of the house. Didn’t like it when I said I’d built the place damn near all on my ownsome.
I think she thought I was hiding my money or some such idea.
When I built the barn she finally saw the truth, and then after eight years of marriage I got up one day and she’d Gone to Texas.
Never heard from her again. I made sure that I got the divorce through the court so she couldn’t come back one day and try to claim anything. That was twenty-some odd years ago.”
“Oh my. Gone to Texas. That was one of Jeb’s sayings.
You know, you two would have been great together.
I thought that the moment I saw you on that horse.
Two of the most genuine cowboys the world has ever seen.
” I lean back in my chair, and I can almost see them riding together and rounding up mustangs.
“I don’t want to spoil the moment, but what brought you here today? And don’t say, a truck!”
“Oh! I saw the ‘For Sale’ sign but couldn’t see anything for sale, so I just drove in to be nosy. What are you selling anyway?” I sit forward and wait for him to tell me it was an old sedan or something.
“The ranch. The ranch is for sale. I won’t use one of them real estate people.
They just want to sell it to developers or contractors.
I had two of them come out and value the property.
The first one was a woman, or a witch. She just got out of her vehicle and started going on about knocking the buildings down and how many condos or something she could get on the porch.
I sent her packing straight away, no messing.
“Then a guy came out, and although he never mentioned these buildings, he was just interested in carving up the land to sell in lots. So, I’m just waiting to die here, and then the government will get its greedy hands on it to carve it up. I won’t be here to see that, though.”
“No. That can’t happen. Colt, we have to stop that. Haven’t you got anyone to leave it to?” I’m horrified that his life’s work will just be wasted like that.
“Nope. No living relatives, and Margaret sure as hell ain’t getting an acre of it.”
“Can I bring my man out here tomorrow to look it over? I don’t know what our finances are like as we’ve only been together a few weeks, but we’re getting married soon and we’ve talked about having a place to start a family. This would be perfect, Colt. We could restart the horse business and…”
“There are still fifty horses on the ranch. I breed them to keep the ranch solvent, not to get rich. They are some of the best working horses in the country, if I do say so myself. It wouldn’t take a lot of guts and hard work to get it back to being a successful business.
Bring him out here tomorrow and I’ll show you the ranch properly. Can he ride?”
“If he can’t, he can sit on the porch and wait for us to get back!”