Chapter Seven
Seated at the kitchen table with a newspaper spread on the table, a coffee mug at her elbow, and the particular focused expression of a woman with a plan, Alice Sweet looked up at her latest houseguest. “Morning. Thought we might have worn you out the last few days.”
It took him a moment to process the words.
Hanson’s mind was stuck on the newspaper.
He honestly didn’t think people read those any more.
At least not in print. Then again, there were a lot of things about this town and its people that could easily have appeared on an ancient television series.
“Guess I slept in. That’s what happens when you have too comfortable a bed.
” Truth was every muscle in his body had screamed at him to climb into bed and stay there till the end of time, but somehow this morning when he finally slung his feet over the edge of the bed, he’d felt better than he had in… well, a long time.
“Good.” A wide grin took over the woman’s face. “Glad to see you’ve got your boots on instead of those shoes you usually wear.”
Without thinking, he glanced down at his feet. Even though he was no longer needed to help with the ranch chores, wearing his loafers just didn’t seem right any more.
“We’ll be going to a horse auction today. Figured you might enjoy a change of scenery.”
“A horse auction?” For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how attending an arena of some sort filled with horses would be much different than the Sweet Ranch, but who was he to judge.
“Mmhm.” Mug in hand, she folded the paper and pushed away from the table.
With a broad grin to match her mother-in-law’s, Colleen came through the back door, a leather binder tucked under one arm and a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re buying a horse.”
“We hope,” Alice corrected.
“As long as Connor Farraday didn’t call anyone else this morning to give them a heads up on that gelding he likes at the Miller’s Creek auction today, we should stand a good chance.”
Alice shrugged.
“Just in case, he sent me a list of a few other horses he and Hannah think would be good fits.” Colleen patted the binder tucked against her. “As soon as Kat gets here we can go.”
“Kat?” Alice frowned, Hanson did his best to keep his expression neutral.
Nodding, Colleen set her bag and binder down on the kitchen table. “She and I were supposed to go thrifting today, but I didn’t want to miss this chance for a good horse. We decided a bargain is a bargain, whether it’s a four-legged table or a four-legged horse.”
That had the two women chuckling merrily. He didn’t get it; then again, when had he ever understood women.
“Sorry I’m late.” Kat’s voice carried from the front room.
Hanson had noticed that most of the time, family seemed to come in the back way, but company would come through the front door. The perpetually unlocked front door.
“Not at all.” Colleen glanced at her watch. “If Clint has the trailer hooked up, we can be on our way.”
Like good little soldiers following their leader, Hanson and the two ladies followed Alice out the back door.
Outside, Clint had the heavy steel lever in hand.
Hanson heard the solid clunk as the trailer hitch locked securely over the ball.
Clint gave the metal a firm shake to test the connection, then stepped back, wiping a smudge of grease from his thumb onto a rag he’d pulled from his back pocket.
“We’re all set. I decided to bring the bigger trailer, just in case you lovely ladies fall in love with more than one horse. ”
“Oh,” Colleen frowned, “I don’t know that I can—”
Alice cut her off. “Don’t you make up your mind yet.
We could be coming home with an empty trailer, but if we like what we see, you never know.
” Without waiting for a response, the woman walked around to ride shotgun in the massive pickup truck that probably could have sat a horse without a trailer.
Opening the back door for the ladies, he waited as Kat climbed in and scooted to the middle of the back seat.
Expecting Colleen to climb in next, he was taken aback when she instead got in on the other side.
With Kat sitting in the middle rather than sliding all the way to the other side, suddenly the spacious crew cab seemed to shrink.
Making matters worse, the faint, clean scent of vanilla and citrus completely overrode the smell of stale coffee and leather upholstery.
He didn’t have to be a genius to know the drive to Millers Creek was going to feel very long this morning.
Settled comfortably by the window, Colleen pulled out her folder and opened to the first page. “Connor says that he trained the sire of one of the horses at auction today. He seems to think if the animal is half the horse his father was, he’d be a great fit.”
“Is that the gelding he called about?” Kat asked with ease of a rancher rather than an educator.
“Nope.” Colleen shook her head. “Connor didn’t specify why his first choice was the gelding out of Starfire farms, but if he’s this pleased with the second choice, the first choice must be something else.”
All the heads in the vehicle nodded their agreement. The respect they all held for Connor Farraday was as tangible as the metal frame surrounding them.
Doing his best to resist the urge to reach out and gently touch Kat’s hand, Hanson turned his attention to the window as the truck turned onto the main road.
The dull, constant hum of the tires against the asphalt filled the cab.
For a guy who had spent the last few months desperate for quiet and predictable routines, he found himself surprisingly eager for the noise and chaos ahead—anything to distract him from the beautiful woman who was clearly getting under his skin.
The truck slowed, pulling off the two-lane highway and into a sprawling, chaotic stretch of pasture that had been converted into a makeshift parking lot to handle the overflow of trucks.
And there was overflow. Trucks of every size, make, and model were crammed together, most of them dragging long, aluminum stock trailers.
Not that she attended a whole lot of horse auctions, but she couldn’t remember any overflowing into the pasture for parking.
Hopefully, this wasn’t going to create any trouble for Colleen and the horse she wanted.
When Clint finally found a spot big enough for the rig and threw the vehicle into park, Kat waited for Hanson to climb out of the truck. Relief over not having the heat of him so close to her or the scent of whatever earthy soap he used, battled with wanting to stay close just a little longer.
The moment they all descended from the truck, the noise hit her immediately.
A steady, layered rumble. Men shouting over the roar of diesel engines, the metallic clang of heavy gates swinging shut, the sharp whistle of a handler, and underneath it all, the anxious whinnies and deep nickers of horses.
At her side, hand resting atop the open truck door, Hanson took in the rows of trucks and stock trailers stretching out across the lot.
With every step toward the massive arena doubling as a horse auction today, he seemed to be studying, absorbing, every sight; tailgates down, men leaning against fenders in jeans gone soft from actual wear, boots that had done real work, hat brims pulled low against a sun that hadn’t even committed to being hot yet.
He had the look of a man doing math in his head and not quite landing on an answer.
Already a few paces ahead, binder tucked tight against her side, Colleen scanned the area like a general preparing for battle.
Dressed like any cowboy, Hanson still carried the quiet, rigid discipline of a well-trained soldier. Not just the way he moved, but how his eyes scanned the crowds, assessing the chaos rather than just living in it.
“We’ll get our bidder number,” Alice announced, stopping near a pair of folding tables set up outside the main entrance. “Colleen, why don’t you all head back to the pens and take a look at Connor’s picks before the bidding starts.”
“Perfect.” Colleen didn’t hesitate, veering off toward the maze of pipe-iron fences stretched out behind the main building.
Kat bumped Hanson’s elbow with her own. “Try not to look like you’re from California.”
“I am from California.”
“I know. But try anyway.” She flashed a smile to soften her words, delighted when the corners of his mouth tipped upward, hinting at the sense of humor that was slowly showing itself.
They navigated the narrow dirt aisles between the pens. Some stood quietly, head to tail, swatting flies. Others paced nervously, kicking at the metal rails. Handlers moved constantly, opening gates, running hands down legs, checking teeth.
Hanson kept his hands linked behind his back, his jaw set in a tight line. Anyone who understood the military would recognize the stance. Considering the noise and organized chaos around him, she could only imagine what this was doing to him.
Slowing her pace just a fraction, she kept her shoulder close to his, offering a quiet, steady presence in the middle of the sensory overload. She could almost feel some of the tension ease from that shoulder—almost.
“There’s the first one.” Colleen stopped in front of a pen holding three horses. She rested her forearms on the top rail, her eyes zeroing in on a sturdy, quiet-looking bay. “Connor’s second choice.”
Hanson stopped next to her, looking at the horse. “Looks sleepy.”
“Looks steady,” Colleen corrected. “But we’ll see how he moves.
” She pulled a pen from her binder and started making notes as men with clipboards did the same, moving between the rows, exchanging brief nods, the unbothered confidence of people who’d been doing this their whole lives and felt no particular need to hurry about it.
They turned down another aisle and Hanson slowed—not dramatically, just a half-step hitch in his stride, the kind she’d catalogued without meaning to, the particular pause that meant something had caught his attention completely.
A chestnut gelding stood in the corner pen with his head low, one back foot cocked, half-dozing through all the noise and movement around him with an air of complete, settled indifference.
“What is it?” she asked softly so as not to distract the others.
Hanson shrugged. “Something about the stillness of him—calm eye, loose ear, utterly unbothered by the chaos.”
Turning to the horse, she looked back at Hanson again. She watched it happen. The same quality she’d seen in him around Boots. Around Valor on his better days. She’d give anything to know what else was running through his mind as he watched the animal watching them.
A sudden, sharp whistle blew from the arena entrance, followed by a voice carrying over a loudspeaker. The words were a rapid, rhythmic chant that sounded absolutely nothing like English.
Hanson turned his head, trying to locate the source of the noise. Through an open bay door, they could see the dirt floor of the arena.
“We’d better take our seats.” Alice waved them on.
Moving quickly, they hurried past the waiting horses and climbed up onto the metal bleachers. Far enough to take it all in, close enough to be seen. Below them, a man in a booth spoke at a speed that defied logic.
“What is he even saying?” Hanson lifted a hand, pointing toward the booth. “Is that a number or a—”
Before his arm was fully extended, Kat lunged, her hand clamping down hard over his fingers. With a sharp tug, she yanked his hand down to his side. “Be careful,” she giggled, practically pinning his arm against his hip. “Or you might buy a horse.”
Hanson looked down at her hand, still wrapped firmly around his, then back to the arena. “But I don’t have a number.”
Kat shook her head, not letting go. “Doesn’t matter. If you bid enough, they’ll be more than happy to take your money, number or no number.”
“Oh- kay.” He swallowed, and Kat suddenly realized exactly how warm his skin felt beneath her palm. The hard line of his jaw had completely vanished. “No pointing. Anything else I should be careful of?”
“Yep.” Her chin dipped. “Also, no nodding, no aggressive scratching.”
When he nodded, blowing out a deep breath at his misstep, she finally released his hand.
The first horse went quickly. Then the second. The horse that had caught Hanson’s eye came up for bid. The man in the booth rattled off numbers that could barely be understood.
His gaze dropped to her face, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that sent a very distinct, unhelpful flutter straight to her stomach. “This is fun.”
“Some people come just to watch.” She couldn’t resist smiling back. She didn’t mind these auctions, but had never considered them fun—until now.
Still grinning, his gaze returned to the horse that was getting quite a lot of bids.
“Almost wish I had a reason to buy a horse.”
If it could keep that smile on his face, so could she. So did she.