Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
It was a strange sight to see Noah and Brodie Carter stroll onto Dylan’s land. A tall, imposing pair, they were both still dressed in their team kits. As they walked over to greet him, Noah was perhaps a little more deferential in his demeanor than Brodie, whose swagger had zero humility.
“We’ve come to take the horses back,” Noah said, turning his collar up against the pitter-patter of the rain.
Dylan nodded and gestured in the direction of the paddock. “Do you need any help?”
“I think we’ll manage,” Noah replied, polite rather than defensive.
The three of them walked over to the paddock. Noah and Brodie together, Dylan slightly to one side. Elvis loped over to see what was going on, sniffed the newcomers with his white feathery mustache.
Brodie said, “Hey, I recognize that dog!”
“Ugly looking thing?” Dylan replied dryly, his brow raised.
Brodie frowned as it clearly dawned on him those were his words, then he shrugged it off with a dimpled grin and said, “You’ve gotta respect an ugly dog.” He reached down to ruffle Elvis behind the ears.
Elvis, being the traitor that he was, seemed to be quite taken with Brodie. Obviously, he had no problem with the Carters.
Dylan rolled his eyes and looked away, refusing to succumb to the infamous Brodie Carter charm, but he heard him say, “Hey, listen, Hawkins?—”
Dylan glanced back. So did Noah, clearly intrigued.
“I’m sorry about the other day—at the football.” Brodie shrugged sheepishly. “It was out of order—I don’t know what came over me.”
Dylan had to hold in a smile, he never thought he’d see the day that Brodie Carter apologized to him. “Don’t worry about it.”
Noah narrowed his eyes, intrigued at what had happened, but Brodie just threw him a beaming, white-toothed smile.
They reached the paddock where the horses were happily grazing the rain-soaked grass.
As Dylan led the brothers into the barn, Noah said, “Logan wanted me to say thank you for the care you took of Bella.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Dylan replied as he went over to get the saddles.
“Well, he appreciated it,” Noah said following behind, taking two of the saddles and handing one to Brodie. “And I know Bella did.”
“I’m just glad the baby’s all right.”
“Aren’t we all.” Noah blew out a breath.
Brodie said, “You should see him, he’s tiny—looks like a little pink frog.”
Dylan snorted.
Noah rolled his eyes. “He does not look like a frog!”
Brodie followed them into the paddock. “Oh, come on, yes, he does.”
Dylan said, “He got a name?”
“You know I think yours was thrown into the mix at one point,” Brodie said, smiling as he greeted his horse with the kind of exuberance that one might expect from Brodie. “But they’ve gone with Leo,” he added. “Reckon he’s going to go from a frog to a lion.”
Noah smiled as he got on with the job of getting the horses ready.
Dylan saddled up Logan’s pony, presumed one of them would lead it back. But when they were all done, Noah looked in the direction they were headed, then back to Dylan and said, “You want to ride with us? I can give you a lift back from the Silver H in the Jeep.”
The rain had stopped, it was still cloudy and cool but otherwise a nice enough evening.
Dylan hesitated, caught by surprise at the invitation.
“We can reminisce about how much better I was than you at football,” Brodie said, deadpan.
Dylan was about to shoot back a cutting retort, but then thought maybe he could save the cutting retorts for the ride, and said instead, “Sure, why not.”
Noah nodded with satisfaction, and they all mounted up.
Brodie glanced over at Dylan on Logan’s horse and said, “Reckon you can keep up?”
Dylan scoffed in disbelief. “If I were you, Carter, I’d be asking myself that question.”
They set off, jostling for position across the wildflowers, until they hit the open pasture where they settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging stories of high-school days they hadn’t remembered in years, feeding into each other’s memories, denying other bits, laughing, objecting, all the way to the Silver H.