Chapter 4
Carter
W as I annoyed that my horse wasn’t in the arena? Yep. Harrington knew when I was coming. I’d been sure to make the appointment because he’d been insistent on it. So the fact that he had this…nothing-special horse trotting around when it should have been Ramona rankled.
I’d add that to the list of grievances I needed to work out with him. But first things first.
“Morning,” I greeted back, as civilized as he’d been. “How’s your sister and the baby?”
Harrington went still and blinked at me for a solid twenty seconds.
He seemed shocked that I asked. But why?
She’d interrupted our meet and greet yesterday, and it was only polite to ask.
Besides, I knew all too well things could go so very wrong during delivery.
Considering he was working, and hadn’t canceled, I had to assume no tragedy had occurred. But I still wanted to know.
Harrington got a hold of himself. He cleared his throat and said, “Demi is recovering well and the babies are healthy if a little small.”
I raised a brow. “Babies?”
He smiled then. Well, really it was more of a smirk. Just the barest hint of lifting on one side of his mouth. “Twins.”
“Congratulations. To her and your family.”
Again, he paused, as though he was surprised. “Uh, thanks. I’ll pass that along.”
Pleasantries out of the way, and reassured mother and babies were doing fine, I was ready to focus on other things.
Namely the reason why I was here. This kid and I had to have a talk and set expectations.
But before I could say anything, he started walking, leading the horse to the far end of the arena, toward the gate.
“I’m gonna turn this boy out and then I’ll get Ramona. Wait here.”
I almost followed him, just to be contrary. At the last second I thought better of it. Harrington already had some sort of opinion about me and I didn’t want to make it worse. Or whatever. We were going to have it out, him and I, and if I got his back up too early, he wouldn’t listen.
So I waited.
After five minutes, I started to get annoyed but tried to tamp it down.
I didn’t know how long “turning out” took.
And I knew Ramona was at the far end of the barn, several stalls between her and the rest of the horses.
Russ had explained, when we put her away yesterday, that even though she came from a reputable place and all her tests were negative, they wanted to make sure she didn’t pick up anything on the road.
Plus, she would probably settle into a new place better when she could hear other horses but not have strangers up in her business. Or something like that.
At the ten-minute mark, I was definitely getting pissed off. Was he keeping me waiting on purpose? I wouldn’t put it past him. He definitely didn’t have a high opinion of me for some reason, and he might be testing me. If that was the case, I’d add that to the list too. I would not be trifled with.
I stewed as the seconds ticked by, glancing at my watch every minute or so.
Finally, at twenty minutes, I heard the clop of hooves on concrete.
I looked up and saw Harrington leading my horse past the last stall and to the gate which he’d left open.
He took off her halter, gave her a pat, and closed the gate behind her.
Some of my ire left just looking at her.
She was sleek and shiny, even in the fluorescent overhead lights.
Utter perfection. Almost an exact replica of the horse from my youth.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away as she sniffed a pile of poop and then moseyed forward.
She found a spot she liked, bent her front legs, and went down in the sand, doing that half roll thing again.
“She can’t roll all the way over?” I asked, voice low so as not to spook her. I glanced at Harrington, who’d wandered up next to me, but then returned my attention to Ramona.
“Maybe not. She doesn’t have to, if that’s what you’re worried about. As long as she…does that.” Harrington pointed as Ramona stood and shook the sand off her. He made a noise I couldn’t interpret, then added, “You don’t know much about horses, do you?”
I heard the derision in his tone. Okay, maybe derision was a bit harsh. But he was definitely annoyed about that fact.
I turned to face him fully and leveled him with a look. “No. I don’t. That’s why I hired you.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. But I did. And it pissed me off.
“Listen, kid. I don’t—”
“I’m not a kid.” His face was flushed, but judging by the look in his eye, it was due to anger. I shouldn’t find that appealing. “And I have a name.”
“Mr. Harrington, I don’t appreciate being judged by my lack of knowledge. I was smart enough to hire the top trainer for my horse, wasn’t I?”
“That you did, Mr. Cahill .”
Oh, he was angry. But then again, so was I.
Seriously, this kid needed to be taken down a peg or two.
And I was just the man to do it. I opened my mouth, but then shut it and took a deep breath.
I could have just gone off on him, but that wouldn’t get us anywhere.
We needed to discuss , and get our boundaries settled.
“Look, we need to—”
I was interrupted again by a high, breathless, female voice calling, “Hawk! Brubby, I need more photos for social media. The last ones…,” she trailed off as she turned the corner and spotted me.
She’d been running, but she came to an abrupt stop and her eyes went wide.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back.”
“Don’t mind me,” I said, holding up my hands.
What I had to say could wait a few minutes, and I liked her energy.
I wasn’t the type to buy into the woo woo nonsense about auras and shit, but I couldn’t deny that I read people quickly and got a sense of them.
Vibes, someone had once called it. Whatever it was, it had served me well throughout my life.
“Mr. Cahill, this is my sister, Fern. Fern, Carter Cahill.”
Something passed over her face, but she fixed it quickly into a neutral smile and held out a hand as she came closer. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cahill.”
“Carter.” I shook her hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Fern turned her attention to her brother. “Let me know when you’re free, okay? And don’t try to get out of it. Because social media is blowing up and you need to be a part of it.”
Harrington’s face darkened. “Fern, I don’t want—”
“What’s this now?” I interjected.
For a second or two, the siblings just stared at me.
Fern came to her senses first, probably realizing that it would be rude to ignore me or cut me out.
She was dressed more professionally than her brother, in slacks and a short-sleeved blouse, so I had a feeling she didn’t deal with the horses directly. Or at least she wasn’t today.
“I run the event barn on the east end of our property,” she said, her tone clipped but friendly enough.
“Part of promotion is, of course, social media. All the apps. My post yesterday has gone viral. In large part due to the rescue cattle herd and Dad and Mal on horseback in the background. I need to capitalize on that while I can.”
“That’s smart,” I praised. Harrington shot me a look. I scowled right back, then lifted a brow. “What? That’s just good business. It’s part of Blue Creek Ranch, is it not?”
“It is,” Fern answered, drawing my attention.
“Part of the charm of hosting an event here is the sights of a working horse ranch. I don’t care why people are clicking on the posts and commenting.
Just that they are. Most of that engagement won’t amount to anything, but it feeds the algorithm and puts our name out there. It will drive business.”
“That’s one hundred percent true,” I agreed, just because it would irritate Harrington. His frown darkened and if looks could kill, I would be dead on the ground.
“There are sixty-odd horses on this ranch. More than two dozen people. Use one of them,” Harrington grumbled.
“But Humphrey is so pretty!”
Harrington let out a sigh. “So use him and stage something with Mal or Gemma. Mal can handle him and your sister likes the spotlight. Leave me out of it.”
Fern’s face lit up. “I can? That’s okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Just go, okay?”
Fern squealed and grabbed her brother in a hug. “Thanks, Brubby!”
And she was off. I turned to watch her for a few seconds, then looked back at Harrington. His face was a storm cloud, and he was leaning on the top rail. Even though he was staring into the arena, he wasn’t focused on Ramona, who was still ambling around and smelling stuff.
I let him sit in his quiet for a couple of minutes. Then, “Humphrey?”
“My gelding,” Harrington answered, almost reluctantly. “He’s a Friesian cross, so she’s not wrong. He is pretty.”
I didn’t know what that meant, because I didn’t know horse breeds, so I just let that lie and focused on my next question. “Is Gemma only Fern’s sister?”
Harrington jerked his head up. “What?”
He seemed offended by the question. I held up a hand. “You said ‘your sister’ when you mentioned her. So I wondered.”
His shoulders relaxed a fraction, though he was still vibrating with tension. “Oh. No. She’s ours. That’s just how we talk.”
I nodded and did the mental math. “So is it just the four of you?”
It took him a second to connect the dots. Then he was scowling again. “No. Did you even look us up before you wired me an obscene amount of money and demanded a particular horse?”
Oh he was cranky. But suddenly, it wasn’t pissing me off anymore. Instead, I found it ridiculously endearing and I couldn’t help poke at it. “Nope. That’s what I have an assistant for.”
“Of course you do,” he growled. “Goddamn it, Cahill. Why’d you even buy a horse? You know nothing about them. About us. But I guess if you have money to burn that doesn’t matter, huh?”