Chapter 5
Colton
Even with the relatively simple directions Rory gave me, I find myself lost in the maze of stables and outbuildings. I ended up asking a couple of stable hands for help as I was leaving the third stable block I had wandered into, and they were nice enough to point me in the right direction.
Sweetie, as I’ve affectionately named my mare, plods along nicely as I walk her towards the outdoor arena. She only tried to kick me twice as I got her suited and booted in her western garb.
Now she’s rocking a pink tasseled bridle with a matching embroidered western saddle. She’s pretty as a picture, and she presses her ears all the way back when I call her Sweetie—so I think I’ll stick with it.
We halt outside the gate to the large outdoor arena. Thin, perfectly trimmed trees sit just outside the wide boundary fence. The arena floor is some kind of freshly raked sandy substance, and not a grain of it is out of place.
I lean down to check my knee brace through my jeans, running my fingers over the tight straps and suffocating material.
I’d been able to stretch my legs out on the flight, Jan had insisted, her own legs barely touched the floor, and she’d persisted until I’d caved.
The fairly recent injury always seems to ache a little before I’m about to ride.
“Everything looks good, Sweetie.” I say as I stand. She huffs at me as I turn to her and place my hand on the pommel of the saddle.
I’m about to lift my foot into the stirrup when a shout sounds from the other side of the stable block, followed swiftly by the sound of thundering hooves. I turn to see a horse racing along the path between the grand house and the stables. It takes a sharp turn and begins to head toward the open grazing fields to the right of the outdoor arena. The poor thing’s clearly been spooked, it’s galloping like its life depends on it and I’m sure it’s either going to run straight through the pasture fences or kill itself trying to jump them.
“Let’s go girl.” I say to Sweetie as I throw myself into the saddle. She already moving before I get the chance to ask it of her, my ass is barely in the seat before she’s racing towards the horse.
It doesn’t take her long to close the distance between us, her strides eating up the path beneath us as we near the panicked runaway.
“Easy, girl.” I say gently as I reach for the lasso at the back of my saddle. The loose horse is now running upside the outer fence of the pasture fields, sending the grazing horses on the other side into a frenzy. The fence goes on for about two hundred feet, a heavily wooded area sits on the other side .
“Can’t let him get in there.” I huff as I ready the lasso in my right hand. A spooked, galloping horse plus woodland terrain is a recipe for disaster. A broken limb can often be a death sentence for a horse.
Sweetie is racing right behind the runaway now, keeping her pace steady as I cast the rope in front of us.
I hold my breath as it flies, a feral smile breaking out over my face as it falls perfectly over the horse’s head.
“Woah, Sweetie.” I call, gently pulling back on the reins with one hand as I secure the end of lasso around the saddle pommel. She listens, straining against the pull of the larger horse on the other end of the rope.
The bay gelding huffs, flexing his neck against where the rope wraps around him. He’s wearing a white blanket that covers him from his hock all the way up to behind his ears, so he’ll have no rope-burn to write home about.
He huffs again before slowing to a trot and then a fast-paced walk. Not a moment too soon, I think to myself, as the woodlands ahead loom over us.
I give Sweetie a pat on the shoulder as I jump from the saddle. “Beautiful and smart, you’re a keeper.” I say as I jog past her to the gelding’s side. I don’t turn back to look at her, but I know she’s giving me the stink-eye.
“What’s your name?” I ask as I pull the runaway horse to a stop. I know I just said that Sweetie is beautiful, but this guy should be on the cover of a magazine or something. Most of him is covered by the blanket tied around his huge frame, but he’s got the kind of face that screams I’m expensive as fuck .
“You’re alright, big guy.” I assure him as I turn him around, he’s still a little jumpy, and he’s breathing kinda hard, but his break for freedom seems to have tired him out some. Sweetie follows close behind us as we make our way back along the pasture fence. Many of the horses are still racing around within their paddocks, excited whinnies and snorts echo across the open fields as we pass.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” I lift my free hand to let him sniff at my palm before running it up between his eyes. “We better get you back up to the stables before—”
“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A shrill voice cuts through the chatter from the excited horses, and I’m a little unsettled by their sudden silence.
I jerk my gaze away from the bay gelding to find a beautiful blond woman storming directly toward us. Her hair is billowing behind her in unruly golden waves and there’s pieces of straw sticking to various parts of her clothing. She’d be breathtaking if it weren’t for the daggers she’s shooting at me from her emerald-green eyes.
“Did you hear me?” She comes to a swift halt in front of me. I realize I’m just staring at this point and open my mouth to introduce myself when she turns her attention to the horse in my lasso.
“You silly boy.” Her entire demeanor changes, it’s like night and day. Her face softens as she reaches a hand up to his face, stroking him in the same spot I had just minutes before. Her hands appear to be shaking a little, and I notice the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “You scared me half to death.” Her voice is like butter, dripping off her words as she assesses him. She walks around him, running her hands all over his legs with a level of gentle care that I’m, quite honestly, in awe of. She’s whispering sweet, soothing words to him as she prods and squeezes. “It’s alright, lovely boy.” She coos as she makes her way around to check the last of his legs.
My voice manages to find its way out of my mouth as I say, “I stopped him from tangling himself up in the trees, he seems as sound as can be.” Attempting to reassure her as she inspects every inch of the gelding.
She shoots me a sharp look before continuing her ministrations, “You’ll forgive me for not taking your word for it.” I watch her jaw clench, “He practically nose-dived out of the horsebox.” She sighs quietly, and I hear the words she doesn’t say aloud.
“Can’t tell you how many times that’s happened to me, some of ‘em just hate the trailer. He really is fine, though, so don’t beat yourself up too much.” I smile at her as she snaps her attention back to me .
“I’m not—” She blinks a couple of times, seeming to think better of denying it, instead she huffs a small sigh of relief and stands on the tips of her toes to tug on the horse’s forelock affectionately.
I fight the urge to straighten as she turns to face me. She’s not a short woman, but she has to tilt her head upwards to look me in the eye as she folds her arms across her chest. She’s wearing a tight-fitting ensemble of black athletic clothing, different to what I saw some of the other grooms wearing earlier.
Rory definitely wouldn’t look half as good as she does in it. I open my mouth to ask if she works here, but I become entranced by the way her eyes travel all the way down to my boots before climbing their way back up my body, taking in every inch and detail as they narrow.
“I’ll thank you not to play strange cowboy rodeo games with my horse next time.” I watch her jaw work, her scowl deepens.
My mouth decides to start speaking without any input from my brain, “Oh, there’s no games at a rodeo, ma’am. Except for the carnival rides and fairground stalls, of course, I’ve won more goldfish than I can count.” What am I saying? “There’s even parades at some events—” Stop. Talking.
She puts me out of my misery, uncrossing one of her arms as she flicks the fingers of her upturned palm, “Give me the rope, cowboy.” She spits the last word like it tastes bad in her mouth.
I place the coil of rope in her delicate hand, smirking as she snatches it away from me.
She doesn’t say another word before turning on her heel, the bay gelding lumbering along next to her as she mutters buttery words up at him.
“My name’s Colton, by the way!” I call after her with a grin, she turns to scowl at me one last time as she leads her gentle giant back up to the stables.