Chapter Nine
Ruby’s fingers tighten in mine as we step inside the stables, like she’s afraid the whole place might swallow her up.
“It’s okay, kiddo,” I murmur, squeezing back. “They’re just big ol’ puppy dogs with hooves.”
She tips her head back to look at me, suspicious. “Puppies don’t have hooves, silly.”
“They don’t?”
Pop chuckles behind us, the sound easy and familiar, and takes me back to a time when he used to laugh often.
He’s got his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders relaxed in a way I haven’t seen in years.
He looks … almost content. Like this—this morning, the stables, his granddaughter clutching my hand—is what he always wanted.
Sunlight pours through the open aisle doors, striping the packed dirt floor in bright streaks. Horses shift in their stalls, leather creaks, tails swish when they see they have visitors. Ruby’s eyes go wide, wonder overtaking nerves.
“Papa,” she whispers, letting go of my hand and tugging on my father’s, “that one’s really big.”
Pop leans down beside her. “That’s a gelding, sweetheart. Big fella, but gentle as they come.”
She peers through the bars. “Can he bite?”
“He could,” Pop says honestly. “But he won’t. Not unless you give him a reason to.”
She thinks about that very carefully.
I spot Caison through the open door of his office at the end of the aisle. He’s standing at his desk, one hand braced on the edge, like he needs it to stay upright. His hair’s a little rumpled, shirt untucked, just enough to notice. He looks … off.
Not hungover. Just unsettled.
I glance down at Ruby. “Hey, why don’t you stay here with Papa for a minute? I gotta talk to Uncle Case.”
Her face brightens instantly. “Uncle Case?”
“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine, and he lives here and works for Papa. I’m going to go say hi, and I’ll be right back.”
She looks up at Pop and smiles.
Pop grins. “Wanna feed him an apple?”
She nods, and he leads her over to a bucket of apples.
I walk down the aisle, boots scuffing softly against dirt. Caison hears me coming and looks up, blinking like he’s been dragged out of his head.
“Mornin’,” I say. “You look like hell.”
He exhales a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Good morning to you too.”
I lean against the doorframe. “What’d you get up to last night after you ditched me at Wildhaven Storm?”
He winces, just a little. “I didn’t ditch you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I came back to the truck. You were gone.”
I watch him for a second, really look at him. “You didn’t have but two beers last night. Why do you look as haggard as I feel? Did Matty wear you out or what?”
“No,” he says. His mouth quirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Matty wasn’t feeling well. I stayed longer than I’d planned. I’m sorry.”
I snort. “Yeah, I figured as much. Soon as she sent us to the pharmacy, I knew you weren’t getting out of there quick.”
He frowns. “Yeah, she was feeling pretty rough,” he says on a yawn.
“I was surprised when I got back to the truck and you were gone. Thought maybe you had to take a leak, so I waited. Twenty minutes. Then I figured you might’ve started walking back toward Ironhorse.
I drove the road twice. Didn’t see you.”
“Nope,” I say lightly. “Never made it that far.”
He looks at me sharply. “Where did you go?”
I shrug. “I must’ve wandered off to piss or something, like you said … ended up in the barn.”
“The barn?” he repeats.
I nod. “Passed out in the hay,” I add. “Woke up to an ice-cold shower, courtesy of Shelby Storm and a water hose.”
He stares at me for a beat, then breaks. Laughs, full and unrestrained.
“Oh man,” he says, shaking his head. “Yeah. I get the impression you aren’t Shelby’s favorite person.”
“I got the same impression. That’s what I don’t get,” I say. “We weren’t close back in the day, but I don’t remember ever doing anything to piss her off. We haven’t spoken in years. Can’t imagine what her beef is.”
Caison sobers, leaning back against his desk. “Eh, those Storm girls can be a little hotheaded. Tough as nails, stubborn as hell. But deep down? They’re all pretty fricking special.”
Spoken like a truly whipped man.
“More like fucking nuts,” I say.
“That’s my future sister-in-law you’re talking about.”
“Right. You know, as your best friend, I have to ask, what the fuck are you thinking, marrying into that family?”
He chuckles.
“I’m serious. Now, granted, Maitland is the sanest of the bunch, but that’s like saying she’s the calmest monkey in the circus.”
He flips me off just as Dad’s voice cuts down the aisle.
“Caison! Which one of these geldings do you think is gentle enough for a four-year-old?”
Ruby peers around Papa’s leg, hopeful.
Caison steps out of the office, and I follow. He meets Pop and Ruby in the aisle.
Bending to one knee, he extends his hand. “Well, hello, Miss Ruby. I’m Caison. It’s nice to meet you.”
She studies him thoughtfully. “Daddy said your name was Uncle Case.”
He smiles at her. “He did? Well, I’m happy to be your uncle Case.”
She takes his hand, then steps into him and wraps her arms around his neck. Caison places his big hand on the back of her head and hugs her warmly. Then he releases her and stands.
Quirking a brow, he looks down the aisle. “I think Aurora or Goose would be a good choice,” he says. “Both solid. But if I were you, I’d ask Giles.”
I stop short. “Giles?”
Caison glances at me. “Yeah.”
“As in Wildhaven Storm’s trainer?”
Pop nods, clearly pleased with himself. “Not anymore. Giles started here just after Caison arrived.”
That surprises me. “You’re kidding.”
Pop smiles like a man who just won a hand of poker. “Been with the Storms since you kids were knee-high. But I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For Pharaoh’s Secret,” Pop says, his voice swelling with pride. “Descendant of Secretariat. The horse I’m building my next venture around. And the one I plan to see in the Triple Crown winner’s circle before I die.”
Ah, yes. His big plans to become a racehorse powerhouse.
“I saw Giles out by the corral earlier,” Pop adds, phone buzzing in his hand. “I’ve got a call to take. Ruby, you have fun riding, sweetheart.”
He kisses the top of her head and disappears down the aisle.
Ruby looks up at me, eyes shining. “Can we ride now, Daddy?”
I smile. “Let’s talk to Giles first.”
We leave Caison behind and head toward the corral. Giles is easy to spot—leaning against the fence, hat low, eyes sharp as he watches a ranch hand working a horse with a drag rope.
“Giles,” I call.
He turns, squints, then breaks into a slow grin. “Well, I’ll be damned. Waylon Ludlow.”
I laugh. “Guess you remember me.”
“Sure do,” he says, then looks down at Ruby. “And who’s this?”
“My daughter, Ruby.”
He crouches to her level. “Pleasure to meet you, miss.”
She beams.
I ask him about Aurora or Goose. Giles studies Ruby thoughtfully, then shakes his head.
“I’ve got just the mount for her,” he says. “But first, we need a saddle that fits.”
He leads us to the tack room, efficient and gentle as he fits Ruby with a helmet and a tiny saddle. Then he takes us to the barn and introduces us to a honey-colored pony, appropriately named Honey.
Ruby falls in love instantly.
“She’s little, like me, Daddy,” Ruby breathes.
We tack Honey up and head to the round pen. I lift Ruby carefully, guiding her through each step. She listens, learns fast. Natural as breathing.
Giles watches from the fence, arms crossed.
“She’s got it,” he says. “You should sign her up for lessons at Wildhaven Storm.”
I blink. “Why would I do that when we’ve got horses and pens here?”
“Because Charli and Shelby are exceptional trainers,” Giles says simply. “Especially with kids. Patient. Skilled. They know how to teach.”
“I can teach her.”
He nods. “You can ride. That’s different.”
I bristle, just a little.
His hands go up. “Just my opinion.”
“And why don’t you work with her?” I ask. I mean, he does work for my family.
“My days of training riders are over,” he adds. “I train racehorses now. I taught the girls everything I know. If Ruby were my granddaughter? I’d want them guiding her.”
I watch Ruby laugh, fearless on Honey’s back while I walk them around by a lead rope.
“We’ll see,” I say quietly.
But as I watch Ruby’s eyes light up, a peace settles over me. She is a natural.
This place—this town—it’s in my blood. And my daughter is already falling in love with it too.
Guess I’ll be making another visit to Wildhaven Storm.
Hopefully without the cold shower this time.