Chapter 13 #2
Wyl returned from the kitchen, interrupting the fantasy that broke every rule I swore to keep. “I want to show you the stables and introduce you to the horses. Follow me.”
Wyl led me down a hallway, through a mud room, and out a side door. “So, tell me about your ranch.” I glanced around the property as we walked. Wyl’s heavy boot steps clomped on the dry ground. “My impressions about ranches come from television shows and movies.”
Wyl laughed and nudged my shoulder. “Television? You grew up in Blackfield. How do you not know about ranches?”
I side-stumbled at Wyl’s nudge. “Ranches occupy acreage to the north, west, and south of Blackfield, and farmland to the east. None of my high-school friends lived on a ranch, so I never visited one.”
Wyl stopped and regarded me. “But the county is known for oil, cattle, and farming.”
I faced Wyl. “Aside from family vacations, school trips, or occasional shopping trips to Abilene or Lubbock, everything I did growing up happened inside the city limits. I don’t recall any ranchers in the group of friends my parents entertained, so I never discovered ranching.”
Wyl put his arm around my shoulders and pointed toward the barn. “I hope you’ll discover ranching on Sterling Ranch. We'll need to arrange several visits to cover it all. Think you can handle being here more than once?”
"You bet!" I walked beside Wyl. His arm around my shoulders made me all tingly inside.
While my logic brain screamed a relationship with Wyl was a bad idea, my ignore logic and enjoy life brain said to enjoy it as much as possible.
“How about starting my first ranch visit by telling me about your ranch.”
“We have three hundred head of cattle.” Wyl used his hands as he talked.
“Our ranch foreman and six hands live in a compound on the ranch. You passed it about 200 yards east of the ranch gate, not far from the fence line. We have two stables: four horses in the barn near the house and seven horses in the barn down by the camp. Walt and I supervise things. We participate in cattle drives, branding events, and so forth, but the foreman and crew oversee the basic ranching operations and the herd.”
I stared at Wyl. “Wow. Big Valley and Bonanza didn’t seem this complex.”
Wyl barked another laugh. “Those old television shows entertained. Ranching takes a lot of work. Work omitted to make the shows interesting. You stick with me, and I’ll show you how ranching is done in real life.”
Butterflies flooded my stomach. I craved being by Wyl's side. Glancing at the hunky beefcake beside me made me wonder how. Shit! It’s impossible for me to stop fantasizing.
At the barn, Wyl opened the inset door. When I stepped inside, the aroma of hay and horse flooded my senses.
I never spent time around horses, but this scent would forever remind me of Wyl and Sterling Ranch.
I scanned the barn interior. Each side contained four stalls.
Two horses studied us from individual stalls on the right, and two horses from individual stalls on the left.
Wyl pulled out his pocket knife, grabbed two apples from the bin near the door, and sliced one in half.
His eyes met mine as I studied him. He winked, and my knees weakened at the warm smile and the sparkle in Wyl’s grey-green eyes.
Stop smiling at me, dammit. I reached for the bin to steady myself.
“You okay?” Wyl eyed me like an EMT assessing a patient.
“Yes. Spasm in my foot,” I lied, stomping my boot against the ground to reinforce the pretense.
“Come meet the horses.” Wyl nodded toward the first stall. I limped after him, careful to keep up the ruse.
“This is Cessna. He’s Walt’s horse, so named for flying like the wind, and in memory of our parents. He’s an American quarter horse and our fastest.” Wyl held half an apple out to me. “Open your hand, palm up.”
I opened my hand, and Wyl placed the apple half on my palm, cut side up.
“Now hold your hand out for Cessna.”
I hesitated. “Won’t he bite?”
Wyl shook his head. “Not unless you shove your hand in his mouth. Trust me.”
I did as Wyl instructed, and Cessna took the apple, his hairy lips grazing my hand. The experience tickled my learning instinct and made me want to try again. “He’s gentle.” I admired the fine cream-colored steed.
Wyl nudged my shoulder, and we moved to the next stall. “This one is Beauty. We don’t race horses, but with her striking features and color, we couldn’t pass her up. Walt and I share this horse.”
“You and Walt share a horse?”
“We both like her, so each paid half.”
“How much does a horse cost?” I cleared my throat. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Wyl smiled. “Not at all. You can buy a horse for anywhere from around $3,500 to as much as $100,000. We spend around $10,000 on steeds for our hands. We paid $20,000 for Beauty, but she came from excellent stock, had attractive color, and no issues.”
“$20,000?” I gasped. “I had no idea.” I admired the beautiful steed.
“Walt may end up with another. He’s looking at a horse in Oklahoma City. If he buys her, we’ll put her in the empty stall.” Wyl nodded toward the stall as he held out another apple half.
I opened my palm, grazed by Wyl’s fingers placing the apple half. The zing of electricity raced up my arm. “I never learned about horses, but Beauty reminds me of racetrack horses from TV and the movies.” The beautiful brown horse with a white star on her muzzle took the apple half from my palm.
We crossed to the remaining two horses, one with a dark brown body and blonde mane.
“This one is Sarge. He’s an independent horse with a mind of his own. His name comes from his take-charge attitude. He’s my primary horse. He responds well to my commands and my firm hand on the reins. Sarge proved a challenge to break, but once he accepted me, we developed a connection.”
“So, you bought him as a colt?”
Wyl stroked Sarge’s muzzle. “While home on leave five years ago, I went with Walt to Oklahoma City to check out horses. One particular colt kept calling my name.” Wyl cupped his hand around his mouth and spoke in a soft, ethereal voice.
“Wyl…take me home.” Sarge nodded his head and nickered.
“I liked his spirit and coloring and couldn’t resist. Sarge ran free for six months, maturing and getting accustomed to the ranch.
On my next leave, I broke him. Now I ride him every day. ”
I listened to Wyl’s story, watching his strong hands soothe the horse. You can rub me the same way. I turned my thoughts elsewhere to ease the bulge in my jeans. A bulge I should NOT be forming. Shit.
Wyl handed me another apple half. I hesitated to put my open hand out for Sarge, but the horse took the apple and nodded his head.
We moved to the last stall. A yellow card with my name adorned the gate.
“This one is Blanket. He’s an American Paint.
” Wyl touched my shoulder and pulled me to a better angle to view Blanket’s side.
He pointed at Blanket's back with his hand still on my shoulder.
His warm breath tickled my ear, reminding me of our time in Big Spring.
“The coloring on his back gives the impression of a permanent horse blanket. He is gentle. This is the one I will saddle up for you when we go riding.” He released his grip and stepped back.
The sensations from Wyl’s touch threw my libido into overdrive.
I gripped the stall door to stay upright and to keep Wyl from noticing the instant hard-on straining against my fly.
Wyl nudged my shoulder with the last apple half.
I took it and stepped straight back, keeping my crotch out of sight.
I extended my open palm to Blanket. The horse took the apple and nudged my shoulder as if he understood about the future.
I stroked Blanket’s muzzle. “I’m looking forward to our ride, Blanket.
” I smiled at the horse and the lingering sensation of Wyl’s touch.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Wyl bumped my shoulder with his fist. “Let’s go back to the house. I’ll grab the steaks, and we can chat while I grill.”
“Lead the way.” Wyl’s introduction to the horses is forever branded in my mind.
The caring approach Wyl used with each horse.
The gentle nature each horse showed to Wyl and to me.
My excitement ramped up several notches at spending future time with my rancher on horseback.
Shit. I’ll admit it. I’m falling for him.
Now, I must figure out how to handle the college's ‘no dating a student’ rule.