Chapter Three
Thursday morning, Ryan perched precariously on the top rail of the corral fence, the sun beating down through the high barn windows made her smile.
In front of her, Micky struggled with a restless horse whose flaring nostrils blew great puffs in the cold air.
The animal’s coat gleamed under the morning light as it reared and bucked, trying to fling him clear.
Ryan’s pulse thundered in her ears, her stomach felt as though it might leap out of her throat, but she couldn’t stop herself from rooting him on.
She laughed when Micky’s jaw clenched in fierce concentration, the reins cutting into his gloved hands.
In the next instant, the horse whirled, and Micky soared off its back like a rag doll, landing on the ground with a resonant thud.
A collective groan rose from the ranch hands in their dust-flecked denim, their faces pinched in sympathy.
Micky lay still for a heartbeat, then shook the straw from his jeans and climbed shakily to his feet, toweling sweat from his brow before striding back to the horse as if nothing had happened.
“What is that on the floor? It doesn’t look like it hurts Micky too much when he lands.”
“It’s called stone dust. It compacts and drains effectively, creating a firm, stable base. But it can become as hard as concrete and very dusty if not kept consistently damp. Adequate bedding is necessary for cushioning. Seth makes sure it’s kept the way it’s supposed to be,” Cull said.
Ryan grinned at Micky’s stubborn resilience, but all heads turned to the direction of the barn doors.
A low rumble of hoofbeats on the cement floor announced Seth’s arrival long before she saw him.
He came roaring down the dusty aisle on his horse, the animal’s hooves churning up dirt like miniature dust devils.
When he dismounted, his boots hit the ground with the authority of a judge’s gavel.
“He does not look happy,” Ryan muttered under her breath.
“Oh, he’s not,” Cull replied with a chuckle, shaking his head.
Seth paused a few feet from the corral, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun. He scanned each man leaning lazily against the rails, then fixed Ryan with a hard stare, moss green eyes sharp enough to cut through steel.
“This is the second time you’ve been hanging out in here instead of out in the fields,” he snapped, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not here to flirt with the staff.”
Ryan’s chest tightened; she opened her mouth, but her words were snatched away by his glare, then he looked at the men.
“Get out of here and get busy. Micky, and Spurs are actually working, and the rest of you are twiddling your thumbs. Do you want to be nothing but dead weight at another ranch?”
“No, sir,” the men muttered.
“Then get to work. Red, get this barn swept up.”
“Yes, sir,” Red said as he ducked into a room.
“That was a little harsh, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked.
“Ms. Carroll, this is a working ranch, and those men are wasting time.”
Seth’s words echoed over the corral in a harsh cadence. Ryan slid off the rail and squared her shoulders as she stepped closer to him, so close she could see the stirring anger in his eyes.
“I don’t know what your problem is with me—” she began.
He closed the gap between them, voice dropping to a lethal growl. “My problem is you’re not doing your job. You’re supposed to document how Beckett Feed is grown, cut, and stored, and all you’re doing is fucking around.”
Ryan’s cheeks flushed. “There’s no need for that language, Mr. Harrison.”
He leaned in so her back bumped against the wood of the corral.
“This is my ranch, Ms. Carroll. I’ll speak how I fucking please.
If swearing bothers you so damn much, maybe you should just get the hell off my property.
” He looked at Cull. “Cull, please take Ms. Carroll to the north pasture. Use the UTV.” He looked at Ryan then back to Cull. “This time.”
“Mr. Beckett sent me,” she shot back, chin high. “If you want me gone, see him about it.”
“Friday, you’ll go with me… on horseback,” Seth snapped.
“Fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the north pasture… to do my job.”
Without waiting for his reply, she strode to the parked UTV. The engine kicked over with a smooth hum as Cull cracked the throttle, and they rattled off down the sunbaked road toward the rolling green expanse of the north pasture. She’d take her photos, and Seth Harrison could kiss her ass.
****
Friday morning, Seth was enjoying a ride.
Golden sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, dappling the dirt path.
It had rained too much to plant but with the sun showing itself five days in a row, he was hoping it would start to dry up the earth so they could plant. Yeah, it was a beautiful—
“Your horse is gorgeous. What breed is he? His dark coat with that blond mane is so pretty.”
Seth sighed. For a few seconds there, he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “American Quarter horse.”
“I don’t know the breeds. Except maybe, Appaloosas, palominos, pintos, oh, and Clydesdales.”
Seth chuckled. “Well, you got two breeds there.”
“What do you mean?” She tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear.
“The two breeds you mentioned were Appaloosa and Clydesdale. The others are colors, not breeds.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows arched skeptically.
Seth reined his horse in with a gentle tug, the animal’s muscles rippling beneath him as they came to a stop. He turned in the saddle, fixing her with a steady gaze. “Am I sure? I’ve known horses almost my entire life.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one, but I’ve heard people say ‘pinto’ when they’d see a spotted horse.”
“Well, they were wrong, unless they were mentioning the color. The odds are it was an American Paint horse since most Paints are pinto. My horse is an American Quarter horse, and his coloring is chocolate palomino.” He patted the horse’s gleaming neck affectionately.
“Chocolate palomino? I’ve never heard of that, but he is gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Zephyr. He’s six years old and I’ve had him since he was born in the barn six years ago. Delivered him myself one night.”
“So, what breed is the one I’m riding?” She stroked her mount’s coarse mane.
“American Quarter horse.” He smirked.
“Is that all you have?”
“No, I have a few Paints.”
“I’m starting to like horses.” She smiled, her posture relaxing in the saddle.
“Yeah, until one throws you,” he said, then nudged the horse with his knees. Zephyr responded instantly, muscles bunching as he surged forward.
“Wait. What? Throws me?” Her voice pitched higher.
Seth grinned as he rode ahead of her, dust kicking up behind Zephyr’s powerful hooves. There was no way he could look back because he’d laugh and that wouldn’t go over too well. But he did stop his horse to wait on her, Zephyr pawing the ground impatiently.
“Have you ever been thrown?” she asked when she caught up.
“Darlin’,” he drawled, “if you haven’t been thrown, you haven’t ridden, and I’ve been thrown way too many times to count. Got the scars to prove it. Plus, I do get thrown quite a bit when training and I sure did when I competed.” He nudged the horse and rode ahead of her.
****
“Darlin’?” Ryan murmured, the word catching in her throat like a burr.
“Cowboy jargon. He didn’t mean it.” She nudged the dappled mare with her knees and followed the dusty trail behind him.
“And this horse better not throw me.” She rubbed the horse’s soft neck, feeling the powerful muscles twitch beneath her fingertips.
“Do you hear me? Don’t you throw me. What is your name?
” She squinted through the golden afternoon light at Seth’s silhouette up ahead. “Hey!”
He stopped, leather creaking as he turned in the saddle to face her, the brim of his hat casting shadows across his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. What’s this horse’s name?”
“You’ve been riding her a couple of days and you’re just now asking?” His voice held a note of amusement that made her stomach flutter.
“I told you, I didn’t like horses, but she’s growing on me. What’s her name?”
“Pearl.”
“It fits her.” Ryan raked her fingers through the horse’s black mane that shimmered in the sunlight. “You’re a very pretty girl, Pearl.” Then she remembered what else he’d said. “When you were talking about being thrown, you said you sure did when you competed. Competed in what?”
“Cutting horse competitions.”
“I thought you just trained them?”
“I competed since I was thirteen. I had a compound fracture of my right collarbone when I was thirty-four and had trouble after that, so I decided to train instead.”
“Compound fracture?” She shuddered. “That had to hurt.”
“Unbelievably.”
“How well did you do when you competed?”
Seth looked at her, then waved his hand around. “I paid cash for this spread.”
“What? You earned that much?”
“And much more.”
“Did you ride your own horses?”
Seth shook his head. “No, I rode for people. I was damn good at it and in high demand. I was in the top five earners. I competed with several different owners. When I was forced to retire and began training, a lot of the people I rode for, hired me to train their horses.”
“Unreal,” she muttered as he nudged the horse.
She rode behind Seth, watching his broad back flex beneath his worn flannel shirt as he moved with the horse’s gait, and it was a very nice back indeed.
The front, with its chiseled jawline and those piercing green eyes, was even better.
She snorted out a laugh, heat rising to her cheeks, but when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she fixed her gaze firmly on the distant mountains.