27. Zack
27
ZACK
Zack:
What are you wearing right now?
Hannah:
It’s 11 p.m. What do you think I’m wearing?
Zack:
I need you to describe it. Every detail.
Hannah:
It’s a light blue nightgown with a ruffled hem that hits right above my ankles. There are three pearl buttons down the chest.
Zack:
You’ve got it buttoned up to the very top, don’t you.
Hannah:
I get cold.
Zack:
Are you wearing your glasses?
Hannah:
I put them on to read your text.
Zack:
Fuck, duchess. This won’t take long.
I t should have been a shitty morning. I woke up exhausted. I never slept well, but last night had been the worst night I’d had in a long time. Even after I’d fucked my own hand, imagining flicking open the buttons on Hannah’s prim nightgown one by one, I’d laid awake for hours missing her.
Dropping her off at her bungalow and then continuing on to Lodestar Ranch without her had felt all kinds of wrong. I should have been sick of her company and eager for a night on my own to decompress, but no. Every two seconds I had looked around like I expected her to magically appear at my elbow, and when she failed to do that, it felt like everything was off kilter.
I’d had half a mind to drive out to Aspen Springs and crawl into bed with her, but that was dumb. She had to be at the library early today, and ranch chores started at dawn. I would have only had two or three hours in her bed before I’d have to be up and driving back to Lodestar.
The crazy thing was, I thought it was totally worth it. The only thing that stopped me was worrying about disrupting Hannah’s sleep.
So, yeah. It should have been a shitty morning.
But it wasn’t.
I didn’t wake up refreshed, but I woke up eager. Hurricane Red was here, and his health and wellbeing were now my responsibility. I needed to see how he had done overnight and if the last week on the road had upset his stomach. I needed to get a vet out here pronto to check him for any communicable diseases and his overall health.
I moved slowly, my body letting me know exactly how much it was missing Hannah’s massages. It annoyed me a little how stark the difference was. She was right; I should have been scheduling regular rubdowns once my bones were healed enough. I would try to find some time to do something about it, even if Hannah’s hands were the only ones I truly wanted on me.
By the time I got to Hurricane Red’s quarantine pasture, the sun was low in the sky. Dew still clung to the grass and birds were calling good morning to each other. Adam was at the fence with Blaine, who had been working at Lodestar since he was sixteen. Now that he was in college, he was only with us for the summer.
I joined them at the fence. “Good to see you again, Blaine. How’s school going for you?”
Blaine rubbed a hand over his short black curls, then grinned. “Straight A’s.”
“Two more years, and then you’ll be heading to veterinary school?”
“That’s the plan.”
I nodded. Blaine’s dad was the only local veterinarian Aspen Springs had left, and I knew he was looking forward to his son joining him. The Gunnel family had been in Colorado almost as long as the Hales. They had come through here as freed slaves turned cowboys, moving cattle from Texas up to the north after the Civil War, and ended up sticking around, some settling here in Aspen Springs, and others going to Five Points in Denver.
“Speaking of plans,” Adam said. “What’s yours for Hurricane Red?”
I leaned forward, folding my forearms along the top rail of the fence. “Don’t really have one, I guess. I hadn’t thought much beyond getting him here.”
“Makes an expensive lawn ornament, doesn’t he?”
I smirked. “Didn’t pay a dime for him, actually.”
“Care and feeding isn’t free, you know,” Adam pointed out. “He’s, what? Five, six years old? Probably has a good twenty years left of eating hay and getting vet checks.”
My shoulders tensed. “So take it out of my pay.”
“We’re not going to do that, Zack. He’s your horse. Of course you can keep him here.” But he sounded grouchy about it.
“Real magnanimous of you,” I said drily.
“You could sell him, is what I’m saying.”
“Right,” I scoffed. “Because that worked out so well for him the first time. Nothing’s changed. He’s still a young gelding who will buck off any rider in about eight seconds. The only buyer we’re going to find will be sending him straight back to Canada.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” he muttered.
My head spun in his direction. Adam might be a grumpy son-of-a-bitch, but he was a big softy when it came to horses. “What the fuck?”
“I hate his stupid face, that’s all.”
“What did that horse ever do to you?” I demanded.
Adam glowered at Hurricane Red, who was nibbling clover and minding his own damn business. “Well, he stomped my baby brother, for one thing.”
Well, shit.
I blinked.
My big brother was holding a grudge against a horse for hurting me. That was so fucking sweet I was afraid I might actually blush.
I tipped my hat and smirked. “I knew you loved me.”
Adam grunted.
I grabbed him in a hug and lifted him off his feet—I remembered to lift with my legs, but I was still going to regret that later—making him holler. Blaine snorted a laugh and I heard him snap a picture with his phone.
“Get off me, you idiot!” Adam growled.
Grinning, I released him.
“Fucking dumbass,” Adam muttered, shaking himself out. But I caught the barest glimmer of a smile beneath the brim of his hat.
Blaine turned the conversation back to Hurricane Red. “Have you considered breaking him?”
“I already broke him. That’s how he ended up in the slaughter pipeline. He’s refused to go back in the chute since our accident.”
Adam and Blaine exchanged a look and then Blaine turned to me, his dark eyes assessing. “I meant, have you considered trying to train him under saddle? He probably wouldn’t be reliable as a show horse or for cattle work, but with a strong rider, he could be a decent pleasure mount.”
I scratched my jaw. “The thing is, he’s already trained. He’s spent the last few years being rewarded for bucking riders off. Now you want to convince him to let a rider stay put and tell him what to do and where to go? It’s unlikely.”
“But we could try,” Blaine pressed. “No one thought Belle could be ridden either, and James turned her into a world champion. Improbable does not mean impossible.”
“So you’re a philosopher now?” I grinned at him, but in the back of my head, the wheels were starting to turn. Slowly, but determinedly. What if we could ? “They teach you that at your fancy university?”
“Nah, got it from my mom,” Blaine said. “I used to say I can’t a lot, when what I really meant was it seemed hard. She hated that.”
Adam slowly rubbed his hands together, his head bowed. “Moms are always saying shit like that.”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat, knowing what he was thinking. Our own mom hadn’t been much for I can’t , either. Jenny Hale did not raise her boys to be helpless in the face of adversity.
“I suppose it doesn’t make much sense to retire a six-year-old horse that’s perfectly sound,” I mused. “It couldn’t hurt to ask James what she thinks. She’s got a reputation for handling problem horses.”
Adam tensed. “James isn’t riding that fucker.”
“Sure,” I drawled. “I’ll let her know you said so.”
Adam growled. He knew as well as I did that if we decided to try to retrain Hurricane Red, James wasn’t going to be able to resist working with him herself, and no amount of worried fiancés was going to stop her no matter how much he grumped. But he also knew what she was capable of, and getting dusted was part of the job. There was always a risk when animals were involved.
“It would make good summer project for me,” Blaine said. “Between the three of us, I think Hurricane Red has as good a shot as any. James is the best there is. I’ve trained a few myself. And you…” He shrugged.
“Need a new hobby?” I suggested.
“I was going to say, you’ve got nothing better to do, so you might as well fix what you broke, but sure.”
I stared at him with my mouth agape. “Damn, kid. You got vicious.” I pulled of my hat, smacked him on the shoulder with the brim, then plopped it back on.
He grinned. “Just calling it like I see it.”
I looked at Hurricane Red and let out a piercing whistle. Hurricane Red lifted his head, his ears pricked forward. His nostrils flared and I wondered again if he recognized my scent, and what it meant to him if he did. Was I merely the dumbass who got himself tangled in Red’s legs? Or was I something else, too? Something good.
I let out another whistle and he ambled over. When he reached the fence, I pulled out the apple I had halved for him. He lipped it up with a soft nicker.
Beside me, Adam growled again. “Goddammit, you’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’re going to get right back on the horse that stomped you.” He shook his head in disbelief.
I caught Hurricane Red by the halter and brought his face to mine so I could rub his nose. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
I was finally getting back on the fucking horse.