Operation 22 The Road Back Home #4
Fox threw both hands up. “Jesus. I am one second away from duct-taping your face to the saddle horn.”
Syn forced his attention back to the reins. “I’m listening.”
“You are not.”
“I heard something about heels.”
Fox stared at him.
“Heels down,” Syn blurted.
“You retained two words in thirty-five minutes,” Fox muttered.
Syn adjusted his boots in the stirrups, trying to ignore the unfamiliar stretch in his thighs, and the kink in his lower back from the awkward posture. Nimbus shifted beneath him, and Syn overcorrected his balance, almost slipping off the right side.
Fox stepped closer. “Sit heavy, but don’t sit dead. Let your hips move with him. Stop clamping your knees.”
“I’m trying to hold on.”
“I already told you, you hold on with balance, not panic.”
Syn exhaled through his nose and loosened his legs. Nimbus took two slow steps forward.
“There,” Fox said. “Better.”
Syn settled a little more, keeping his eyes forward.
Mostly.
Furi laughed again.
“If you dare look at him, I’m putting blinders on you.”
“You’re a very understanding teacher,” Syn grumbled.
“I know.”
Fox walked alongside Nimbus as Syn guided him around the corral.
It took a few minutes, but the lesson moved into a regular rhythm. Reins. Pressure. Release. Weight. Breathe. Don’t lean like an idiot. Don’t stare at the horse’s head. Look where I want him to go. Trust the animal but also guide him.
It was calming.
Fox must’ve noticed his composure, because after another quiet lap, he said, “Last night go okay?”
Syn kept his gaze on the far rail. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t hear the headboard banging against the wall.”
Syn sucked his teeth. “We slept, asshole.”
Fox studied him for a beat. “You forgive him?”
Syn guided Nimbus through a turn before answering. “Yeah. I think I have.”
Fox stayed quiet.
Syn looked toward Furi again, only this time Fox didn’t bark at him for it.
A couple of little girls played with Furi’s braids while he helped a scared little boy hold out a handful of feed to a donkey. He spoke to him gently, smiling when the donkey took the food and the child lit up as if he’d just tamed a dragon.
Syn tightened his hold on the reins.
“I’m not willing to let him go,” he said. “And I can’t torture him forever either.”
Fox tilted his head. “That’s a hard place to stand.”
“Yeah.”
“There’s still two more videos coming.” Fox leaned against the fence post. “What are you gonna do?”
Syn took another slow breath and let Nimbus walk. “Not watch ’em.”
Fox made a thoughtful sound. “Think that’ll work?”
“It’ll have to.” Syn tried to stay relaxed in the saddle. “I’m not gonna watch it and allow fuel to be thrown onto a fire we just put out.”
“Makes sense,” Fox said.
Syn swallowed, not wanting to say the next part, but he needed to get it out. “The hardest part’s not the damn videos.”
“What is?”
Syn’s gaze went toward the petting area again.
Rid had drifted near the fence under the pretense of checking a latch, his eyes wandering toward Furi, who didn’t seem to notice. Or he did and chose not to pay attention to it. He was busy letting a baby goat chew the end of his braid while Amelia laughed, trying to pry it away.
“Reactions like Rid’s,” Syn said quietly. “And he’s tame compared to what’s out there. Men and women will recognize him. They’ll remember things. Say things. Want things.”
Fox’s expression sobered.
Syn turned away before the ugly edge of jealousy could embarrass him. “I don’t want to punish him because other men don’t know how to keep their eyes to themselves. But it still fuckin‘ infuriates me.”
“Of course it does,” Fox said. “Because you’re you.”
Syn scoffed. “I thought cowboys gave the most insightful advice. That’s all you gotta say?”
“I thought it was insightful.”
“You shouldn’t’ve quit your day job,” Syn smirked.
He guided Nimbus to a stop near the fence. Fox rested one hand on the horse’s neck, looking past Syn toward the petting area.
“Others may have eyes for him,” Fox said, voice steady, “but Furi only and always has only had eyes for you.”
Syn glanced over his shoulder. Furi was staring right at him, even with half the petting area gathered around him.
Kids tugging for his attention, adults and staff pretending not to watch, animals crowding his knees, but Furi’s gaze cut through all of it and stayed on Syn as if he was the only thing worth seeing.
The lesson finished with Syn managing two full turns, one decent halt, and a walk around the pen without Fox threatening to blind him again.
Nimbus seemed unimpressed with him, but he accepted the praise anyway, lowering his head after he’d dismounted and accepting the rubs on his neck.
He took a couple of steps and his thighs objected immediately.
Fox grinned. “Feels great, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Syn led Nimbus into the grooming bay, brushing him down with more confidence than yesterday. He cleaned dust from his coat, checked the tack under Fox’s watchful eye, and fed him cold apple slices.
Nimbus took them all from his palm with warm, ticklish lips, then nibbled at Syn’s pocket in search for more.
Fox laughed from Diablo’s stall. “He likes you.”
I like him too.
Syn stroked Nimbus’s warm flank.
“You know,” Fox said, not looking at him, “Walker wasn’t just running his mouth at breakfast.”
“What do you mean?”
“The sheriff position.” Fox glanced at him then. “County needs somebody. Interim guy’s been warming that seat, collecting the benefits, but he doesn’t know shit about honoring a badge.”
Syn’s hand slowed.
Fox noticed his reaction. Of course he did.
“Comes with a decent salary, a quieter kind of trouble, and if you ask Walker, probably a free horse. Nimbus could use a rider.”
Syn didn’t answer.
But the words settled somewhere that was lacking inside.
Fox didn’t push.
Once Nimbus was settled, Syn washed his hands, grabbed a towel, and headed in the direction of the petting area.
Fox smirked.
“Not one word.”
Fox put his hands up in surrender.
Syn left him there and crossed the yard.
Of course Furi had drawn a crowd. He wasn’t trying to, it just happened.
Kids hovered around him as if he worked there, asking about the animals, whether the goats knew their names.
Does bacon really come from pigs? Are chickens always in a bad mood?
Is the donkey married? Why is his hair so long?
Did he ride a motorcycle like the one tattooed on his forearm?
A little girl asked if he was a cowboy vampire because he was so cute.
A few grown-ups lingered too, pretending to have an interest in rabbits while stealing glances at him. The women whispered and fawned over him, their husbands fumed.
Syn stopped near the fence. Furi handed the feed cup to Amelia, brushed grass from his jeans, and came to him.
His eyes warmed and his lips curved easily. The attention he’d been giving everyone else folded inward until it all belonged to Syn.
“Are you leaving?” One little boy pouted.
Furi smiled down at him. “For a little while.”
The girl who thought he was a vampire pointed at Syn. “Is that your boyfriend?”
Furi’s eyes flicked to Syn and his smiled turned quieter. “No. That’s my heart.”
The little girl considered that, then nodded as if it explained everything.
“You survived your training,” Furi said.
“It was pretty cool. The view from on top of his horse is unlike anything.” Syn pfft’d. “I need a better teacher though.”
Furi laughed. “It’s always the teacher, huh?”
Syn glanced past him at the little crowd still watching. “You wanna to go for a walk?”
Furi nodded. “Sounds good.”
Syn held out his hand, and Furi took it, brought it to his lips and kissed his knuckles in full view of everyone. He didn’t care who noticed, as pride swelled deep inside.
They walked along the back pasture, away from the barns and noise of the ranch early in the morning.