15. Bailey
Bailey
“ T ag twenty-seven, six-year-old quarter horse, sorrel gelding.” The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the building as a cowboy about my age mounted the horse.
He looked sound from where I sat, his body toned from years of work.
The guy trotted the horse in the small space, then stopped him to back him up.
The horse obeyed with no problems, the price on him going up with each fancy maneuver.
Minutes later, the horse was led out of the building. He sold for forty-six hundred dollars to a family in the corner. Their little boy beamed as he jumped from his seat, eager to see his new horse in the back. Another horse was shooed into the ring, this one with no tack.
“Tag twenty-eight, three-year-old quarter horse, gray gelding.”
Beside me, Lettie leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees as the horse trotted around the enclosed area, tail sticking straight out, his movements frantic. I glanced between her and the horse in the pit as the crowd began their bidding, the auctioneer rattling off numbers.
After a few back and forths, the highest bid landed on two hundred. “Two hundred going once,” the auctioneer boomed over the mic.
Lettie gnawed on her bottom lip as her grip on her knees tightened.
“Two hundred going twice.”
I watched her arm flex right before she threw it up in the air.
The auctioneer added one hundred dollars to the bid.
This was exactly why her dad didn’t let her go to the auctions.
She was just like her mom. I stayed quiet, knowing if I fought her on it, it’d only piss her off.
She could be the one to explain this extra horse to her dad, not me.
The man across the way kept his hand down, not upping the bid any higher. He sat back on his bench, ready for the next horse to come in. While it wasn’t always the case, low bidders typically indicated they were kill buyers. From the looks of this guy, I didn’t doubt it.
Before I knew it, the auctioneer was shouting “Sold!” and the horse was being ushered out the back by a man swinging a lead rope behind him. The horse galloped out the door and disappeared. I leaned forward to look at Lettie’s face and found a massive grin plastered on her mouth.
She looked over at me like she almost forgot I was sitting beside her.
Without a word, I shook my head, fighting the smile that threatened to bloom. Thankfully, Travis had sent a few hundred extra dollars in case something like this happened. He knew what kind of trouble his wife could get into and had the good sense that Lettie would follow in her steps.
***
Three hours later, the last horse came through the pen, selling for sixteen hundred dollars. We’d won each bid we put out on Travis’s list, but instead of four horses coming home, there’d be five, thanks to Lettie.
I didn’t know what she thought she’d do with a green three-year-old that looked ready to stampede every person in this building. She was crazy if she thought her dad or brothers would let her near the gelding once she got him home.
Satisfied with how the night went, I stood from the bench, my ass sore from the wood. Lettie followed suit, speaking up for the first time since that gray horse came out.
“Now we go to the window?” she asked.
I nodded, seeing the excitement overshadowing the emotional toll the last few hours took on her.
I saw her eyes brim with tears at some points as bids stayed low on a few horses.
She knew their fate just as much as I did.
We did the best we could, but it still hurt to see the ones that didn’t get so lucky.
We headed down the bleachers to the line in front of the window. Four people later, we approached the woman.
“Bidding number?” she asked, her voice scratchy.
“Forty-four,” I replied.
She wrote it down. “Tags?”
“Three, sixteen, thirty-seven, thirty-nine.” My eyes drifted to the number jotted on the bottom of the paper, then to Lettie before continuing. “And twenty-eight.”
Lettie beamed at me, and I couldn’t help but stare. Her smile, her heart, everything about her drew me in like a fish to bait. She sure had her hook sunk deep in me.
Maybe her dad never brought her to these things because he knew he couldn’t say no to her.
If that was the case, I was in the same boat.
There was no way I could’ve told her not to bid on that horse, not when I saw how passionate she was about getting that highest bid, the way her eyes narrowed in challenge at the guy bidding against her.
She was dead set on getting that horse well before he ran through, that much was clear.
I handed the woman the money after signing paperwork, signing over the rights of the horses to the rescue.
“See you tomorrow morning, ma’am.” I dipped my chin, then turned, Lettie beside me as we walked toward the exit.
“So, that gray,” I started.
“Please don’t be mad at me.” From the corner of my eye, I saw her gaze locked on her boots as we walked through the dirt parking lot .
“I’m not mad, but you know your dad will be once we get home.”
“I’m going to pay the rescue back for him.”
I looked at her, drawing my brows together. “What?”
“He’ll be my personal horse.”
“What about Red?”
She shrugged, her eyes still downcast. “He’s getting older.”
“You can’t break a three-year-old, Lettie.”
Her lips twitched. “I’m not. Brandy is.”
“How do you know she’ll do it?”
She looked up at me then as we approached the truck, frowning. “She’s my best friend. Plus, she’s broken half the horses on the ranch herself. She’ll do it.”
I reached around her to open the passenger door. “I’m sure she’ll love one more horse on her plate.”
Lettie rolled her eyes, then turned to reach up for the handle. Instead of grabbing it, her hand missed, bracing on the frame of the door while her other hand landed on the leather seat.
“Lettie?”
From the side of her face, I could see her lips pale, her face draining of color before she hung her head. I grabbed her waist, steadying her as she swayed.
“Lettie, what’s wrong?” My voice was laced with concern as she stood there, quiet.
She swallowed audibly, noticeably trying to catch her breath. After a few moments, she shook her head, straightening her back and releasing the seat. I kept my hand on her waist in case she lost her balance again.
Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke. “Just got a little dizzy.”
“Have you been taking your iron?”
“Forgot them at the ranch. I was going to get some.”
She lifted her leg and set it on the step before pulling herself up into the truck. I took a step forward. “Are you going to be okay?”
She avoided eye contact with me, gnawing on her cheek as she nodded.
I reached to grab the seat belt and pulled it around her, buckling her in. I rested my hand on her thigh, gazing up at her. She stared straight ahead, refusing to meet my eyes.
I reluctantly pulled my hand away and closed her door before coming around the hood of the truck to get in on the driver's side.
Lettie was quiet the entire drive back to the hotel.
She made no move to get out when I parked, allowing me to come around to her side and open the door for her.
I held my hand out to help her out of the truck and she took it, accepting my help.
Her hand was soft from years at college, but that was surface level compared to what her time away from the ranch had done.
She let go of my hand as soon as she had both feet on the ground and walked off in the direction of the hotel as I closed her door and locked the truck.
I rushed to catch up with her as she opened the door for herself this time.
I slipped in behind her, staying close in case she got another dizzy spell.
I was trying to be there for her without overstepping. I saw firsthand in the past how she resented the way her brothers would baby her if anything seemed off. I could still care for her and respect her boundaries at the same time.
Unlocking the door to our room, she ignored Rouge’s pleas for attention as he jumped at her legs and beelined for the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I patted Rouge’s head and sighed. If space was what she wanted right now, I’d give it to her.
“I’m going to take Rouge out,” I said to her through the door. She gave no indication she heard me as the shower turned on.
Grabbing the leash, I hooked it to Rouge’s collar and grabbed the room key from where she tossed it on the desk, then headed outside.
I knew she didn’t want to talk about it and I wouldn’t force her, at least not right now.
We had a good night and I wasn’t going to ruin it by bombarding her.
Questioning her a million times about why she didn’t go to the pharmacy the moment she realized she forgot her pills wouldn’t do anything but start a heated argument.
Instead, I’d do the only thing I could right now. I’d show her I cared through my actions.