If We Can’t Have Forever (Knight Falls Ranch #2)

Chapter One

I hate being away from my kids.

I hate being away from my ranch and my house and my damn horses.

It’s times like these when I regret my career choice, but then I get stuck in the job and it all falls back into place.

Before there was anything else, there was me and horses.

A magic touch, my eldest brother, Roman, used to say, but it was more listening to what they needed that gave me the skills I have.

It didn’t happen overnight; I worked tirelessly to become one of the state’s most sought-after trainers.

Running my hand down the body of a beautiful red roan quarter horse, her muscles quiver under my touch, but she’s still and she’s calm, quietly grazing from the trough of feed attached to her stall wall.

I’d come up late last night after I’d tucked my kids in bed and left them with Beth, my nanny.

It had taken some bribery to get my kids to settle, since they knew I would be gone in the morning for at least two weeks.

I hardly slept at all last night; the cabin I was given for my stay isn’t what I’m used to. I like routine, I like knowing how my day and my nights are going to go, and if the last few weeks have proven anything, it’s how easy it is to get thrown off course.

It certainly doesn’t help that the guy who’s employed me is a raging prick.

Okay, that may be an overstatement since the guy has done nothing to me, but I like to believe I’m a pretty good judge of character and I’d be stupid to ignore the red flags.

Calvin Scott is too stern with his horses, doesn’t allow them to show him who they are and just wants blind obedience with no reward.

It’s no shocker he’s now fucked himself up and paid a stupid amount of money on an Appaloosa, barely over two years old, who he’s struggling to train while also keeping his workers safe.

It was an accident with one of the guys who works here that had prompted Cal’s call to me, begging me to work with him.

It only took an hour watching them to know what the problem was, and it’s going to take me days, if not weeks, to undo the damage he’s already done.

“I’m just taking Ginger for a ride,” a raspy female voice says from outside the stables. Someone mumbles something back which I don’t catch. “I wasn’t going to be long.” The woman responds, so I piece together what I can’t hear, keeping my back to the door.

There’s more mumbled talking, like whoever she is speaking with is attempting to keep their voice down, but I can hear the agitation within the sound.

It’s definitely a man, that much I am sure of, but I haven’t been around long enough to recognize people’s voices.

I certainly don’t recognize the woman’s, in the few visits I’d paid the ranch before it was decided I needed to come stay, I never saw a woman on the property although I’d guessed there was based on the wedding band on Calvin’s finger.

“I won’t talk to anyone,” she replies, which immediately has a tingle of awareness prickling the hair on the nape of my neck.

Not my circus.

Footsteps sound behind me, the clip of a heel, and I glance over my shoulder to see the woman walking toward me.

Beneath a white cowboy hat, her long, flowing blonde hair, the shade of honey, tumbles down her back, and she’s wearing a white shirt adorned with delicate embroidered orange flowers on the shoulders.

It’s tucked into fitted, painted-on denim jeans, and scuffed-up cowboy boots, the leather cracked and worn, clip against the dusty ground.

The sight of her, with her heart-shaped face, deep brown eyes fringed with thick lashes, and gracefully arched brows, turns my mouth dry. She has a gently sloped nose, dusted with freckles, and angled cheekbones, and there’s a scar that splits her top lip on the right.

She’s mumbling to herself, eyes on the ground as she heads right for the stall I’m currently standing in.

This horse must be Ginger.

I clear my throat to make her aware of my presence, and she freezes, dark eyes landing on me and widening. Pretty pink lips part on a shocked gasp; her face paling. She stares at me, not moving, a deer caught in headlights.

“Y-you shouldn’t be in here,” she eventually speaks, that rasp of hers deeper. “Why are you here?”

“Silas Knight,” I introduce myself, stepping away from the horse. “I’m the trainer.”

Her dark eyes flick to the red roan and then back to me, “She doesn’t need training.”

I chuckle, “No, I’m here for the Appaloosa.”

“Oh,” she nods, a little manically, “Right. That makes sense.”

She still doesn’t move toward me, her body statue-still. I can recognize fear when I see it.

I take a step back, hoping to ease some of that anxiety. “Have you seen Cal?” I ask.

Her lashes flutter, and her throat works on a hard swallow before she throws her thumb over her shoulder and points to the stable exit, “That way.”

“Got it,” I reply, giving her a wide berth as I step around her. “She’s real sweet.” I jerk my head toward the horse; the mare’s dark eyes trained on her owner.

“Ginger?” That seems to ease her a little. “She is; I’ve had her since she was small.”

“You train her yourself?” I ask.

She rolls her lips and dips her chin, a long curl of blonde hair slipping over her shoulder, “I did.”

I watch her slide her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, spotting the huge rock on her finger. This must be Cal’s wife.

“I never caught your name,” I cock my head, watching her, the way her brows twitch and the corners of her mouth turn down just a touch.

A whole flurry of emotions sweep over her features, from trepidation to confusion before it settles on curiosity.

Her eyes drag down me, not leaving a place of me untouched before they return to my face.

“That’s because I never told you it,” she points out.

“Right,” I feel the corner of my mouth tip up. “Well, have a good ride.”

“You too,” she responds automatically before her brows tug low. “Wait, no. Have a good, whatever it is you’re about to do.”

I chuckle, “Will do.”

I turn and exit the stalls, rounding the corner and immediately spot Cal leaning over the fence to one of the training rings, the Appaloosa I’m here to work with inside.

He’s watching one of his workers, a young guy who looks entirely too nervous to be inside that ring with the horse, trying to rope it.

I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose.

What the fuck is he even trying to attempt here? That horse is nowhere near ready to be locked in a training paddock, and he’s asking for someone to get hurt, if not killed. An anxious horse is a dangerous horse, and all it’ll take is a well-timed kick to end someone’s life.

I don’t shout or whistle, not when I can see the horse is already two minutes away from lashing out, and any kind of loud noise now will only amplify her nerves.

“You need to call them off,” I keep my voice low as I step up to Cal, trying to keep my cool so I don’t bite his fucking head off. He’s a damn idiot who has no business trying to train this horse or any of these animals.

“Why?” Cal grunts. “He’s about to get her.”

“No, he’s about to get kicked. Call him off.”

“Just wait and see,” Cal presses.

“You called me here to deal with this; I’m dealing with it. Call him off before someone gets hurt. Now.”

His blue eyes land on my face, and he must read something there because he listens.

He puts his fingers between his lips and lets out a shrill whistle that has me flinching, my teeth gritted as I watch the horse spook.

The guy in the ring barely gets over the fence before it vibrates with the force of the kick.

I shake my head, “Stop pushing her.” I growl to Cal, “She’s not ready.”

He huffs, “The longer I wait, the more money I lose.”

Of course, it’s about the money.

“I’ve got a whole waitlist wanting to ride her. Time is money, Knight.”

The Scott Ranch, while handles some livestock, is more of an experience ranch.

They hire out cabins and do riding days, offering tourists the experience of this life without the nitty gritty parts that are the actual back bone of this field of work.

They have the look of a working ranch, with cows in the fields, goats and chicken free roaming but they don’t have the skills to make this place a real working farm.

Not like Knight Falls, where we are both.

“You can’t put a saddle on her until she’s at least four, and that’s pushing it.”

He rolls his eyes, “She’ll be fine.”

“Listen,” I snap at him, way past irritated with this fuck, “We either do this my way, or I will pack my shit and leave. You think you’ve got what it takes to train a filly like that, then be my guest. I’ll send you an invoice for my services thus far.”

“Hey now,” he holds up his hands, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What you’re suggesting will hurt her, and I will have no part in that,” I snap at him. “And I will have you closed and drowning in legal debt before the week is through.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw, back molars grinding as he glares at me. I’ve dealt with far scarier people than Calvin fucking Scott, and I have no problem dealing with him now.

“Your choice, Scott.” I meet his stare, holding, showing him who the real threat here is. He doesn’t scare me, nothing fucking scares me anymore, not after everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve seen. There’s a heavy, long pause, but he drops his stare.

“Fine,” he grunts and pushes off the fence.

I watch him practically run from me, but my gaze drifts, toward the stables where the blonde woman is sitting on the back of Ginger.

She watches Cal as he stomps his way to the main house, grunting and barking at anyone who attempts to talk to him before the front door slams behind him, rattling the little bell next to it.

Her eyes dart to me, and she begins to worry her bottom lip. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something, but she squeezes her heels into Ginger’s side, spurring her to move.

Looking around the ranch, apprehension uncurls in my gut.

My intuition is very rarely wrong, and something tells me this place is as shady as its owner.

Leaning on the fence, I keep watching the filly, her eyes wide, tail swishing as she paces the ring.

She needs security, a gentle hand rather than whatever the fuck they were just trying to do.

I don’t attempt to get her to come to me, and I certainly don’t invade her space.

I just remain at the fence, a constant presence.

She looks over to me a few times but never comes close, but that’s okay. This will take more time than I originally thought, but it will happen when the time is right.

“You’re okay,” I mumble quietly, her ears flicking in response to the sound of my voice. “I’ve got you.”