12. Sage
SAGE
“Are you excited?” Taryn asks as she scrambles into the back seat of Holden’s truck.
It’s barely eight on a Saturday morning, and even after a couple of weeks at Wild Ember, Taryn’s energy still amazes me.
I twist so I can see her from the passenger seat. “I’ve never been to a livestock auction before, so I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t doubt it will be interesting, though.”
Holden mutters something under his breath as he turns the key in the ignition, and Taryn leans forward to address him.
“You can grumble all you like, but I know how competitive you are. You’ll be searching for the best horses, just like Chance. Even if it’s only to get the better of the Ashlands.”
“The Ashlands?” Why does that name sound familiar?
Taryn sinks back. “They own the land on the other side of the river. There’s, like, some bad blood between our families that goes back ages. And, you know, boys being boys…” She rolls her eyes. “There’s always a competition over who gets the best bloodstock at these things.”
I remember now. Holden mentioned the Ashlands that morning on the trail. “How did it start?”
“Water,” Holden answers.
He’s following Chance and Sterling, who are ahead of us in a truck towing a large horse trailer, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear stick, close to the bare skin of my leg.
Trying not to let myself get distracted by that, I dig for more. “Water? What do you mean?”
His eyes meet mine for a moment before he focuses ahead again. “It’s got to do with water rights and who settled the land first. Paperwork says it was us, meaning we get first claim to the water during dry spells. The Ashlands have always disputed it, and they’ve resented us ever since.”
Taryn rolls her eyes. “All you really need to know is that if the Ashlands are here today, Chance is going to pretend he doesn’t care what they buy.” She grins. “He absolutely does.”
After about half an hour, we drive under a sign that reads Silverford County Fairgrounds, then pass another sign on the side of the road advertising the Silverford County Annual Livestock Auction.
Ahead, the sun glints off dust-covered trucks parked in uneven rows around the edge of a busy dirt lot.
Pop-up tents flap in the breeze beside a long shed where I assume the auction takes place.
The air hums, and even with the windows up, the smell of hay, manure, and smoke from a grill that must be set up nearby is potent.
There’s something almost cinematic about the scene. I pull my camera out of its bag and take a shot through the window.
Holden parks next to the other McBride truck, and we all get out.
Everywhere I look, there are faded flannel shirts, sun-browned necks, and cowboy hats.
So many cowboy hats. Cattle bellow nearby, their sounds punctuated by the clang of metal gates, while laughter rings out from a nearby concession stand.
I spin in a slow circle, camera raised, capturing the organized chaos, only stopping when Holden grasps my elbow and leans in.
“Most of the excitement’s happening inside, you know.”
The heat of his skin against mine makes my pulse leap. When I wet my suddenly dry lips, his eyes flare in a way that makes me think he might know how his touch affects me.
Just in case he does, I shoot him a wide smile. “Let’s go, then. Wouldn’t want to miss the fun.”
His stare intensifies, then his hand drops away.
Before I can register my body’s disappointment at the loss of his warmth, his fingers graze the small of my back, gently urging me toward the shed.
“Cattle were auctioned off first thing this morning,” he says.
“Before the horses are auctioned off, there’s a demonstration—”
“Kind of like a mini cow-horse competition,” Taryn breaks in.
Holden shakes his head. “Less competition, more evaluation.”
“Close enough,” she says. “This is my favorite part.”
I do my best to focus on the commotion around me, and as we enter the large building, it’s difficult to decide what to look at first. It’s darker inside than I expected, the sunlight filtering through dust-thick air.
Wood-plank bleachers line the sides like old church pews, mostly filled with weathered-looking ranchers.
In the center, a large rectangle of packed dirt is enclosed by metal rails.
As we move through the crowd, following Holden’s siblings, people subtly shift to make room. Hats are tipped, greetings exchanged—respect, wariness, curiosity. And some of the women are alight with more than a little excitement.
Holden’s gaze stays fixed straight ahead, jaw tight, apparently oblivious to all the attention. Or ignoring it. Though when someone addresses him directly, he acknowledges them with a polite nod.
“Holden. Good to see you back in town.”
“Hope that shoulder’s fixed up.”
“Gonna see you back on the circuit soon, McBride?”
That last one only earns the questioner a tight-lipped smile.
Chance and Sterling have found a vacant spot in the bleachers, and we join them, forced to sit close because of the lack of space. On one side, Taryn is pressed up against me, and on the other, Holden sits so close I can’t breathe without catching the fresh, clean scent of him.
His muscular, denim-clad thigh against my bare one shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does.
Within minutes, a man emerges from the sidelines and strides across to a platform. He has a mic clipped to his collar, so when he speaks, his voice rings out through the shed.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. I know y’all are waiting to get this show started. Hold on to your hats, because we’ve got some mighty fine animals to show you today.”
I tilt my head toward Taryn. “What is it you’re looking for?”
“Chance wants to pick up a few horses for our breeding program. Horses with good conformation that can do the work too, not just look pretty. But I’m mostly here to daydream.”
I smile at her. “About what?”
She grins back. “Finding the horse that’s going to make me famous.”
A gate clangs open, and a horse and rider enter the ring. The announcer launches into a description. “Lot twelve. Three-year-old gelding. Started on cattle, good head, easy to handle…”
His words don’t mean much to me. But I can’t take my eyes off the pair as they move up and down the ring at varying speeds.
“They’re checking how the horse carries himself.”
Holden’s low voice in my ear almost startles me. He’s so close that if I were to turn my head a little, my cheek would brush his lips. I swallow, suppressing the ridiculous urge to test that theory.
The horse and rider pick up speed, then come to a sharp stop before backing up and turning. When they thunder toward us, I almost gasp. Just before they reach the crowd, the horse stops and pivots, sending dirt spraying into the air.
“That was fast,” I breathe.
“You want fast,” Holden says. “Just not messy.”
His shoulder grazes mine, and I can’t resist leaning in. “What’s next?”
“Cattle work.”
As if on cue, another gate opens, and a handful of cows trot into the ring.
“This is the best part,” Taryn says, tilting forward in her seat.
Unable to look away, I follow the pair as they move toward the cows. The horse’s movements are quick and controlled as they single one out.
“They make it look easy.”
“It’s not,” Holden murmurs. “It takes timing and teamwork.”
When I look up at him, he’s focused on the action in the ring, eyes narrowed, but his jaw isn’t tight. He might even be relaxed.
It looks good on him. Attraction rushes through me in a wave, and it’s increasingly difficult to dismiss it as simple appreciation for a good-looking man. I quickly turn back to the ring. The cows are already being herded out, and the horse and rider are leaving. I missed the finish.
“Lot twelve will be available this afternoon,” the announcer says.
“Is Chance going to buy him?” I ask.
Holden shakes his head. “He’s a gelding.”
I open my mouth to ask, but before I can, one corner of his mouth lifts. “Means he won’t be making any babies. Chance is looking for breeding stock.”
The gate opens again, and another horse and rider enter. The announcer starts his spiel, and the process repeats.
As the demonstration continues, Holden occasionally murmurs in my ear to tell me whether it’s a horse they’re interested in.
It’s nearly impossible to concentrate when he’s this close, but I force myself to focus on capturing action shots. By the time the last horse has been shown and we’re warned that the auction proper will start in an hour, I’ve got quite a few.
“Let’s go,” Holden says.
Dutifully, I stand and shuffle toward the stairs.
A man exiting at the same time jostles me, and Holden’s arm is between us before I can react. “Watch it,” he growls.
The man’s eyes dart between us, then he tips his hat at me. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him.
My breath catches as Holden rests his hand on my waist, guiding me toward the exit.
I glance over my shoulder at him. A frown line between his eyes smooths away when he meets my gaze.
“Everyone is in a rush to get food and drink before the auction. No one’s paying attention to what’s going on around them.”
I turn back, not sure I should be enjoying the warmth of his hand and the solid presence of his big body behind me as much as I am.
Unfortunately, as soon as we get outside, both disappear.
Taryn grabs my arm and tugs. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat and have a look around before the auction starts.”
Holden watches us go as his sister drags me away, that line back between his brows.
“How about we grab a burger?” Taryn says. “Then I could really do with a new bridle.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Vendor tents line one side of the grounds, selling feed and supplies, while the enticing scent of grilling burgers cuts through the smell of animals.
Kids run around laughing while groups of older ranchers sit in folding chairs and gossip. It seems like this is just as much a networking spot as it is an auction.