36. Harlow
Chapter 36
Harlow
T his land is so beautiful that it rivals Pebble Creek. It’s different from California. We drive down long, tree-lined streets with long fences along them. Pastures with golden grass take up most of the space. Occasionally, we pass gates that hold different crests, some ornate and some as simple as a letter.
Where Pebble Creek has a lot of small-town charm, this town has a different appeal. The land between houses is vast, filled with fields and trees, but the gates look expensive, and the land is perfectly manicured.
“Is this what rich country looks like?” I half-joke.
“You think I’m not rich?” He acts appalled and I shoot him a look that says, “Shut up.”
“Are you?” I ask, appeasing him.
“I wouldn’t want to offend someone actually wealthy by calling myself rich.”
“I won’t be offended by you being rich.”
“Would it please you to know if I was?” I know Harrison is messing with me, but I don’t like to joke about money being a personality trait or a bonus point. I’ve dated many artists who were full of passion and low on income.
“It wouldn’t matter to me either way,” I answer, and he smiles at me before focusing on the road ahead.
Before long, we are pulling up a long, paved driveway that leads up to a large stable and a small house. I’m surprised to see such a small house next to at least a twenty-horse stable. The fencing lining both sides of the drive is simple and black, similar to that at the Hill Farm, but it’s vinyl or metal instead of wood. The house is a one-story home with a tall peak in the center, dark wood siding, and stonework at the entryway and on the chimney. The stable is a matching deep brown with a black metal roof. It’s well-kept, maybe even new.
We’re about to get out of the truck when Harrison reaches into the back and pulls out a large bag. It’s a simple brown paper bag with white tissue paper in it. I don’t know what I was expecting to be in it, but the bag is light.
When I pull out the tissue paper, I see my own Western hat. Black felt with a pinched front, wide brim with a slight turn up at the sides. If that was the end of the hat, maybe I would figure he just grabbed a black one, but it’s not. Looking closely, I see that there is a black, sea green, and gold braided cord around the hat band, a burn in the felt in the shape of a cat silhouette walking along the band, and a few beads at the ends of the cord.
“This is gorgeous,” I whisper, running my fingers along the braids. Looking closer at the beads, I notice that they’re not typical round beads, but stones.
“Ah, yes, those. They’re amazonite for confidence and self-love, lava rock for passion and creation, black jade for balance and peace, and that last one is amethyst because it’s your birthstone. Or at least that’s what the lady told me, so if your hat has a bunch of bad energy, we will get new beads.” His arms are crossed over his steering wheel as he looks over to me, a big, beautiful smile on his face.
“No, no, it’s perfect.” I flip the hat over and set it on the center console between us. “I better start collecting some good luck now.”
Harrison leans forward, reaching for me. He kisses me, his hand at the base of my skull, and then wraps his fingers around my fishtail braid. It’s pulled to the side and before I can ask, he puts my hat on my head and taps my nose.
“Nah, it’s got the stones for that.” Harrison’s smile is broad, bright, and boyish. It warms all the cold parts of me.
He opens my door and leads me to the front of the house where an older woman opens the door, giving us a wide grin. She’s dressed neatly in dark jeans, a blue denim button-up, and a yellow quilted vest. A baseball cap that reads “Bailey’s Stables” sits on her head.
“Ms. Sally,” Harrison states, taking his hat off and offering his free hand.
She walks right past his hand and pulls him into her arms. He hugs her back tightly before she releases him and puts his hat on his head for him.
“My boy, you seem older every time I see you! Where are your folks at?”
“They’re on their way back for the holidays. I think they’re stopping in Colorado for a little bit before making their last trip home.”
“I’m so excited to hear all about wherever your father has whisked your mom away to this time. You tell her to call me the next time you talk to her.”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. King in today?”
We walk and talk as she leads us into the main hallway. I soon realize this small house isn’t a house at all, it’s their office.
“He just ran out to another stable to help break a tricky mare. She’s been close, but the inconsistencies she’s getting on her ranch bring back bad habits before they can truly break her. Tommy is in the back. Who is this gem?” Sally looks over to me, and her older eyes show me love at the first glance. Her kind and gentle eyes move up and down my body, taking in the details of my outfit and my hat. I move my hands to take it off my head, but she raises a hand to stop me. “No need to be so formal. We’ll be heading outside in a minute.”
“This is my friend, Harlow. She’s got an eye for beautiful horses,” he says confidently.
Mrs. King grins at me. “I’m sure she does. You look like the kind of girl who knows something good when she has it.”
We walk through the office and come to a mud room in the back with a pen set up and eight small but excited puppies running around. Their little yips and barks get louder before I hear a thump and running paws. A longhaired and springy dog jumps the gate with ease to check on the pups. They crowd her and look for her assurance.
“How old?” Harrison’s eyes brighten at the sight of the little fur balls. I’m sure I looked the same way when I first saw Cleo.
“Almost seven weeks. They’ll be ready to go in about two more. You looking for a boy or girl?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, get in there and see who you click with!” Sally beams, crossing her sturdy arms under her chest.
Harrison lifts one leg over the gate and then the other, but no time is wasted before Mom and the pups all rush over and shower him with love. Mom is mostly black and white with touches of brown. Her eyes are a piercing blue and trained on Harrison’s movements as he pets her litter.
Harrison sees a red and tan pup waiting at the back of the crowd, tail wagging excitedly. It has a golden color to its eyes and a white belly.
The little one waits and waits until Harrison’s arm reaches over the other pups, and he scoops him or her up into his arms. His face is soon covered in little kisses and its butt wiggles so much it almost falls out of his grasp. After a few loving strokes from Harrison, the pup calms down and looks attentively up at him.
“Boy or girl?” he asks.
Looking over at Mrs. King, I see her hands settled on her hips with a wide grin.
“That’s a girl. We’ve been calling her Red since she’s the only one.”
Harrison looks over to me. “I think I found my girl.” He winks.
Rolling my eyes, I nod in agreement because I could tell from here that pup is his.
“Well, let’s bring her out with us, and she can visit your new mare.” Sally waves us out the back door, and we make our way to the stable.
It’s huge inside with cobblestone walkways, large stalls, and sliding iron openings for the horses to peek out if they are given the option. On each door is a rectangular chalkboard that has the tenant’s name written in some pretty impressive script.
As I walk down the stalls, I read some of the names to my right.
King.
Justice .
Big Mac.
Crown Royal.
Apple Jax.
Brownie Batter.
“Where is Majesty?” Harrison asks as we come to the last few stalls.
“She’s in the indoor arena. We weren’t sure if you were going to want to ride her, so we do have tack ready to go.”
Majesty? What a name. Is a horse like that going to do well on a farm?
“English or Western?” The words leave my mouth before I can do anything about it.
“We have Western out there, but if you want English, I can get it.” She beams.
“That would be great,” Harrison adds.
When she slides open the arena door, I’m floored. She’s gorgeous. Her coat is jet-black, healthy, and shining off the bright lights. Her mane is neatly kept in a bunch of evenly spaced small knots down her crest. Her tail is perfectly groomed and right in between her hock and fetlock. The only discernible thing outside of her sheer black beauty is one white sock.
“Oh my God.” It comes out in a whisper, my jaw dropping. She’s working with a young man as he uses a lunge whip and lead to have her circle him. She’s trotting with elegant precision, her hooves making the perfect beat on the dusty ground below her.
“Get that tack ready,” Harrison jokes to Mrs. King.
Before I know it, I’m on the back of this girl. We click almost as fast as Harrison and the puppy sleeping in his arms. We walk for a long time before I bring her to a trot and then back to a walk.
“Bring her to canter,” Mrs. King yells and I do. Without hesitation, she picks up as soon as my left leg and heel apply pressure.
Harrison and the gentleman who was working with her earlier stand in the middle of the arena, gabbing away as I ride. I could be here all day, but this isn’t my horse, it’s Harrison’s. After we circle a few more times, I walk her to where Harrison and his friend stand.
“Hop on. See how you like her,” I offer, dropping my right foot from the stirrup. I run my hand up and down Majesty’s neck and give her praise for her hard work.
“Nope. I saw everything I needed to. She’s going to be for guests and for fun. You were perfect to make sure she’s the right fit.” Do his words sting for absolutely no reason? Yes. Do I let it show? No.
After I dismount, I stand with Sally, Harrison, and . . .
“Howdy, I’m Tommy.” His hand shoots out in front of him, and I happily take it. He’s got a firm, but kind handshake. Taller than both Harrison and me, he stands with broad shoulders dressed in a fleece gray flannel and a hat to match his mother’s, with curly brown tresses peeking out from under it.
“Harlow. Pleasure.”
“You ride like a pro.”
“I’ve been riding most of my life. I love it. Can I brush her down?”
“Her stall is in there; you’ll see her nameplate.”
I nod and smile over at Harrison, who’s now crouched down and playing with his future dog, looking more boyish every time I look at him.
After taking off Majesty’s tack and brushing her down, I clean out her hooves and hum to myself. I forgot how much I love caring for horses after a ride. It’s as if I’m letting them know my appreciation and giving them the care they deserve after their hard work.
I hear the heavy drops of boots against the cobblestone walkway before I see Harrison at the stall opening.
“You about ready?” He leans against the wall and smiles warmly.
“Where’s your pup?”
“She has about two more weeks here before I can come get her. Majesty will be delivered this week sometime. So, you’ll get to ride her again before you leave.”
His eyes move all over me; they travel up and down my body with no hesitation or worry. He doesn’t care that I know he’s looking at me, and frankly, I don’t care that he is. When our eyes meet again, his usual warmth is replaced by something more carnal. There is a heat behind his blue eyes, a need.
“You undressing me with those eyes?”
“Much worse, witch, so much worse.” He throws me another wink and jerks his chin toward the hall.
Time to go.