Chapter Eight #3
“Around three to five inches a day. It still has a way to go before harvest, but it’s doing very well. We’ll ride over to the oats next. I may as well check them since we’re here. If you want to get some photos here, go ahead.”
Ryan nodded and took pictures, then they got back into the UTV and drove to the fields where the oats grew.
Once Cull parked, Ryan stepped out and glanced around, then looked at Cull.
“Are they growing as they should?” she asked.
“Yes, they’re doing very well, too.”
“As cold as it’s been, I’m surprised.”
“As long as the temps don’t go below thirty-eight, they’ll be fine. Our night temps have been above forty-five, so they’ve been germinating much faster.”
“Forty-five is still cold,” she said.
Cull chuckled. “Not if you’re from Montana.”
Ryan laughed. “I suppose not. I bet the winters are harsh, aren’t they?”
“Harsh could be an understatement. This place is not for everyone. Some people think they’d love living here until they get a taste of the first snowstorm. We get stranded indoors for days and can lose power.” Cull shrugged. “Montanans are used to it. We grew up living with it.”
“Seth isn’t going to be able to work with the horses, is he? Because of Sean,” Ryan said, shaking her head.
Cull sighed. “No, but he’ll try to get the horse to trust him. He has to do that first, anyway. Thing is, he has two that he had started on and now he has to stop.”
“Damn Sean for being mouthy.” She sighed. “I wish I’d never dated him. Pig.”
“So, why did you? We noticed he was full of it the day he arrived.”
“I have no idea. I’m glad he cheated on me because it made me get the hell away from him.”
“He was never abusive, was he?” Cull’s jaw clenched.
“No. Never, but he could be condescending at times.”
“I believe he tried that with Seth, but Seth’s no fool.”
“I know that. I’ll get some photos of the oats. I can’t believe how well they’re growing.”
Cull stood beside her, looking over the land. Once she finished, she looked at him.
“You’ve known him a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yes. We went to school together.”
“He seems like a good man.”
Cull looked at her with a smirk. “One of the best I’ve ever known.”
“You seem close.” She shook her head. “I don’t look forward to leaving but I know I can’t stay.”
Cull stared at her. “That’s your decision, Ryan. Let’s get to the fence.”
Ryan climbed into the UTV wishing she’d never come to Montana and met Seth Harrison.
When Cull reached the downed fence, he stopped the vehicle, walked to the back of it and got a toolbox out, then strode through the tall grass to the fence. Ryan took more photos since this was the first time she saw this area. She knew Montana would forever be in her heart, along with Seth.
****
Seth entered the barn, the scent of hay and horses filling the air as he carried a steaming cup of black coffee.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes; he hadn’t slept much.
His swollen knuckles throbbed with every heartbeat, keeping him tossing on sweat-dampened sheets until the digital clock had blinked three a.m. in angry red numbers.
“Morning, boss,” Micky said, his lanky frame silhouetted against the golden shafts of sunlight streaming through dusty windows.
“Micky, how’s it going this morning?” Seth’s voice was gravel-rough with fatigue.
“Good. Do you need any help?” Micky’s concerned gaze flickered to Seth’s injured hand.
“Could you get the palomino filly? I don’t know how much I can do with my hand the way it is, but I’ll try to get her used to me.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take her to the arena for you.” Micky nodded, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor.
“I appreciate it.” Seth walked along the barn’s wide aisle, scanning for Ryan. Her SUV was parked outside, so she was around somewhere.
“Good morning, Seth,” Red called, his weathered face creasing into a smile beneath his worn Stetson.
“Hey, Red. Is Ms. Carroll around?”
“She’s with Cull. He took her up to the north field to check how the oats and corn are coming along after that rain we had last night, and to fix a section of fence that’s down.”
“Okay. I’ll be in the arena.”
“Are you able to work?” Red nodded at Seth’s hand, which was mottled purple around his swollen knuckles.
“As I told Micky, I’m just going to try to get the horse used to me. It’s all I can do until this heals.” He held his bruised hand up, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain up his arm.
“Damn, that looks nasty, but he deserved it. Let me know if you need me.” Red grinned, touched the brim of his hat, then strode from the barn, spurs jingling softly with each step.
Seth took a deep breath of the crisp morning air as he walked to the arena.
His hand throbbed with each heartbeat, a painful reminder that he couldn’t do any proper training today.
But since he hadn’t worked much with the spirited young filly, he’d at least get her used to his scent and voice, building that crucial bond between man and horse.
When he entered through the door, he saw Micky leading the palomino filly inside the metal rails.
The morning sun caught her gleaming coat as Micky unhooked the leather lead from her halter.
Released, she bolted across the arena with her head and tail held high, hooves kicking up small clouds of dust with each powerful stride.
“Micky, could you get an apple for me and cut it up?” he asked, leaning against the metal rail.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” Micky jogged to the nearby barn, returning moments later with a shiny red apple in his hand. He pulled out a worn pocketknife, the blade glinting in the sunlight as he sliced the apple into neat wedges. “Where do you want it, boss?”
“On that old shelf over on the other side, please.”
“Sure thing.” Micky strode across the arena, his shadow stretching long across the packed earth, and set the apple pieces on a wooden shelf before turning back. “Anything else you need, boss?”
“No, Micky. Thanks.”
“Just holler if you change your mind.”
Seth nodded, his eyes never leaving the filly as she pranced in nervous circles, her muscles rippling beneath her glossy golden coat that caught the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the barn’s high windows.
Frustration burned in his chest like a hot coal; he was furious that his swollen, purple-knuckled hand prevented him from working with her properly, though he didn’t regret for a second landing that punch squarely on Hayes’ square jaw, feeling the satisfying crunch beneath his fist.
As he watched her trot around the sawdust-covered arena, delicate ears flicking back and forth like radar dishes, his phone vibrated against his thigh from the front pocket of his worn Wranglers, and he instinctively reached for it with his injured hand and hissed in a breath at the lightning bolt of pain that shot up his arm.
“Son of a bitch,” he said through clenched teeth, as he gently removed it with two fingers, wincing as he hit the green button with his thumb.
“Harrison,” he answered, voice gruff with pain.
“Mr. Harrison, this is Doris Cox with Western Living magazine.” Her voice was crisp, professional. “I want to apologize to you for Mr. Hayes. What he said and did was unacceptable.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, Ms. Cox. You did nothing wrong.” Seth leaned against the weathered wooden fence post, keeping one eye on the skittish filly.
“Still, he was my employee. He’s not any longer.” Her tone left no room for argument.
Seth grinned and nodded. “He’s no reflection of you or the magazine.”
“Thank you. If you have time, I’d like to interview you over the phone. His article is in the trash where it belongs.”
Seth chuckled. “Alright. Let me call you back. I’m in the barn right now with a nervous horse who needs my attention. It will be later though.”
“Anytime is fine. I’ll be in the office all day until five. The number I called from is my personal phone. Call me on that.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”
She hung up, and Seth slowly tucked his phone back into his pocket, then ducked under the metal rail with the fluid grace of a man who'd spent his life around horses.
He made his way across the arena, his scuffed leather boots leaving deep impressions in the soft, loamy ground.
The half-eaten apple in his good hand caught the sunlight, its sweet, tangy scent wafting through the air.
He needed to gain her trust, and he knew that irresistible aroma would draw her to him like a moth to flame.
After picking up a slice, the sticky juice coating his fingertips, he turned to face the filly.
She had stopped dead in her tracks, her large liquid brown eyes fixed on him, nostrils quivering slightly.
“Hey, come here, pretty girl,” Seth coaxed, his voice low and gentle as he extended his uninjured hand, palm up with the apple piece. “I know you want this treat.”
She took a hesitant step forward, one delicate hoof pawing at the ground before she stopped, so Seth moved a step closer.
He couldn’t help but smile when her velvety nostrils flared wide, catching the sweet apple scent.
She moved another cautious step closer and so did he, then he held his steady hand under her soft muzzle, pressing the apple slice against her warm lips.
Her whiskers tickled his palm as she took it, crunching loudly before fixing him with an expectant gaze.
He chuckled, then walked back to the shelf to get another piece, the wood rough beneath his fingertips.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her following him, her hooves making soft thuds in the surface, and knew the battle for her trust was nearly won.
“Just like a female,” he murmured, his voice affectionate. “You’re not going to trust me until I prove myself, are you, girl?” He laughed when she whinnied softly and moved closer, her warm breath visible in the cool morning air as she nudged her velvety muzzle against his shoulder.