History and Horses
LAINEY
Beck looks me up and down. “Did you bring any other clothes?”
“I did, but your brother didn’t give me time to change.”
“Right. Well, how about I do the chores today and you take notes? I’ll explain everything as I go.” Stepping inside a stall, he puts down the shovel. “How much do you know about ranching? Was Colt saying you’re from Dallas?”
“Fort Worth,” I say with a sigh. “And for all intents and purposes, let’s assume I’m a technology nerd who’s spent more time online than she has with animals.”
Beck looks up from the—holy shit, is that gigantic brown pile actually…well, shit?—stuff he’s scooping out of the hay inside the stall. “You’re a nerd?”
“It’s cool to be a nerd now. At least that’s what I would tell my younger self when I was wearing my headgear while doing my homework and waiting for my pimple cream to dry.”
He chuckles again. “You’re funny, Lainey Brown.”
“Something tells me y’all don’t see many nerds around here.” I grab my notebook again. “I don’t think any of us would survive on a ranch.”
“You gotta give yourself more credit. Anyone can learn this stuff. And once you do”—he grunts while dropping an even larger pile of manure into a waiting wheelbarrow—“it becomes second nature. So I’ll start with the basics, then.
There’s all kinds of ranches. In this part of Texas, it’s mostly cattle ranches.
They raise the cows that become the beef we eat.
Now, we got a small cattle operation here on our ranch, but our main focus is horses. ”
I move my pen furiously across the lines of a page. “So that’s your main source of revenue, then? And also what you’re famous for, right?”
“Right. My ancestors bred some mighty fine horses in their day, and those bloodlines started selling for piles and piles of money. Ever since, our horses have been highly sought after by other ranchers and traders. We really are the best at what we do, and people know that.”
I grin. “I want even more people to know how awesome y’all are.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.” Beck doesn’t skip a beat as he continues to clean up the stall. “So my great-great-great-grandaddy bought this land in 1910. His name was Ulysses Morton Wallace.”
“He sounds legit.”
“The man was a legend. He was a veteran of the Spanish-American War who apparently bought the ranch using cash he won drinking everyone under the table. Literally. He’d wager he could hold his liquor—without puking—longer than anyone who challenged him.”
My pulse skips a beat. I may not be outdoorsy, but I do love history.
There’s a story here. A good one. I’m honored to get to tell it—share it—in a whole new way.
“He sounds like a rock star,” I say. “Who inherited his tolerance?”
Beck laughs. He’s awful chipper for someone who’s cleaning up poop. “I’d say Billie got that gene. You keep up with her at your own risk. I got his swagger, though.”
“Lies,” Colton says as he passes by.
The scent of his cigar lingers in his wake. If I’m being honest…I actually don’t hate it. Smells kinda nice, like a warm fire on a cold winter night.
Back to your notes.
Right.
“Like I was saying,” Beck continues, “good old Ulysses bought the land and a hundred head of cattle from a rancher who was fleeing the law and/or a vengeful wife—never did get the whole story. Rumor has it he married the vengeful wife, though. Her name was Uma, and he was obsessed with her.”
“Ulysses and Uma.” I laugh. “They sound like quite the pair.”
“When they weren’t fighting, they were working it out between the sheets. She had fourteen kids.”
“Fourteen?” I nearly shout.
Beck nods. “Told you he was obsessed with her. Anyway, it was their son, Ulysses Junior, who started breeding the quarter horses he and his rancher friends used to work cattle.”
“Working cattle.” My hand is cramping, but I keep writing. “What does that entail?”
“In a nutshell? Keeping ’em alive. Getting ’em where they need to go. Keeping ’em in line, really. We drive them out to certain pastures to eat, then bring them back in once we need to. We’ll vaccinate them, do pregnancy checks, care for the sick ones. That kind of thing.”
“And you do that for how many cows?”
He grins. “Our herd’s on the small side. Only a thousand head.”
“A thousand?”
Beck just keeps laughing. “Lucky River Ranch down the road has over fifteen thousand head of cattle on their property.”
“Wow.” Just…wow. I knew some of these ranches were massive, but I didn’t have an appreciation of just how big they were.
“Anyway, Junior knew his shit, because next thing he knows, his horses are in high demand all across Hart County and then across Texas. Some of my ancestors dropped the ball a bit after that. Bad investments, shit luck. That kind of thing. But once my dad took the reins, he really turned things around and did Ulysses proud.”
“What makes your horses so great?”
“Simply put? They have good cow sense.”
“And that means…”
Beck stops working for a second and props his elbow on the end of his pitchfork.
“It’s like they know what the cows are gonna do before we do, and they react just as quickly.
It’s a trait that we’ve bred into them, that they’re born with.
You need that kind of agility and intelligence in a horse to control the herd.
You need the horse to work with you, if that makes sense, when you’re trying to keep a thousand head of cattle in line. ”
I lift a brow, surveying my notes. Ideas are already starting to fire inside my head. Ulysses—I gotta do something with that rad name. And the horses, we absolutely have to center the logo on something related to them. I’m feeling yellow. Is brown too obvious? Maybe throw some turquoise in there?
“That’s pretty incredible, actually,” I say. “How is that bred into the horses?”
Beck lifts a shoulder. “You recognize it in one animal, then breed it with another. Helps if you got good trainers, and we just so happen to have the best.”
I’m turning to a new page in my notebook when there’s a loud bang on a nearby wall. I jump, my hand flying to my chest.
More bangs, followed by a whinny. The ground vibrates when another series of bangs reverberates through the stables.
I shoot a panicked glance at Beck, who merely peers around the open stall door. “Ah. That’s just Big Brother.”
“Big Brother?”
Beck grins. “He’s the biggest stallion we got. Almost sixteen hands high. That’s how we measure the horses, by the way.” He splays his gloved hand to demonstrate. “Ornery as all get-out. Just like his bestie.”
That’s when I hear a familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone.
Colton speaks to the horse calmly, almost soothingly. “Easy, boy. It’s just me. I know you’re excited, but we gotta behave ourselves today, yeah? Easy. Easy. Just like that. Good boy. That’s so good. Easy. We gotta be patient. I promise you’ll get what you want if you just listen for a sec.”
A literal tingle moves through me, making my pulse skip a beat.
The man can be generous with praise.
Noted.
Not like I’ll actually do anything with that information. But it’s…surprising. Unexpected.
I can’t help it. I crane my neck to peer into the next stall. My stomach drops when I see Colton standing in front of an enormous black horse. He’s got one hand on the horse’s flank and the other on his nose.
The horse balks, flailing its front legs. The chaps make sense now. I imagine taking a hoof to the shin would be super unpleasant if you weren’t wearing some kind of protection.
But he—Colton—doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps his hands on the horse. Keeps talking in that steady, soothing rumble that has me feeling some kind of way.
“Brother, it’s all right. Easy, boy. It’s just me. We’re gonna head outside, all right?”
The horse’s sides heave. He snaps his head one way, then the other. Shuffles his hooves.
Still, Colton remains calm. Meanwhile, I’m shaking in my clogs.
“You ready now, Brother?” he asks the horse.
The horse snorts. I wonder vaguely where the name “Big Brother” came from.
Also, my mouth has gone dry.
Colton has his hands on the horse’s nose again. That’s when I notice Big Brother’s breathing is starting to even out.
Okay okay okay. So Colton Wallace knows what to do with his hands. No biggie. It’s sexy as hell, yeah, but there’s plenty of things guys do that are sexy. Like—
“You always give me a run for my money, don’t you?” Colton chuckles. “It’s like you know I dig a challenge. C’mon, you rascal. Let’s get some fresh air.”
No way.
No fucking way does this grumpy cowboy enjoy being put to the test. That doesn’t compute. He was just growling, clearly annoyed at being put upon, but seeing this…
Colton glances at me over his shoulder and smirks. “Pick your jaw up off the ground, would you? Ain’t polite to stare.”
How is he calm enough to be funny right now?
How is it legal to look that fucking handsome while also being some kind of secret horse whisperer?
Ignoring the insistent beat in my chest and between my legs, I focus my gaze on the horse. His eyes are liquid onyx. Full of feeling.
“I just can’t stand the handsomeness,” I manage. “His, not yours.”
“You like the big ones, huh?”
“If you’re trying to tee me up—”
“I am.” Colton has the gall to run his hand up Big Brother’s silky neck. In reply, the horse nuzzles into Colton’s chest. “Aw, now you warm up to me, huh? Only after I beg?”
“I hate you.” It’s all I can think to say.
Colton’s face creases into a handsome smile. “How do you feel about petting?”
“C’mon.” That’s Beck. “As much as I appreciate the game of tit for tat y’all got going on, Dad will skin your hide if your grossness forces sweet Lainey to quit on us.”
Colton’s eyes bore a hole through my head when he replies, “She ain’t sweet.”
“Not one bit.” But my voice drips with saccharine sweetness nonetheless. “Proud of it too.”
I turn my head to see Beck resting his arms on the top of the stall door, a funny look on his face as he glances between Colton and me.
“Y’all are enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asks.
“You don’t need to worry, Beck.” I tuck my pen behind my ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”