by KC Klein
As if on cue the animal shrieked and the trailer’s metal side bowed. Hosea, one of Cole’s ranch hands, jumped back, then crossed himself while muttering in Spanish under his breath.
“Come on, Cole. The humane society called me to Old Man Joe’s farm. Foreclosure. He just up and left, probably for the best. He always had a heavy hand. The mare was left tied up in a dark stall for God knows how long. But she’s a survivor, got good bones. Be a great breeding mare.”
Right, and who the hell would get close enough to breed her? Cole just nodded his head and smiled. He’d learned over the years the best thing to do with Jett was to lead him in slowly, make him think he was winning. Contradicting him was the same as pissing in the wind; when it was all said and done, you just ended up getting wet.
Cole slapped Jett on the back, and pointed to the fading wood sign nailed above the double ranch doors. “What do you see, Jett? Right there, painted in red, what does it say?”
Jett groaned. “Cole, don’t be such a hard—”
“Now,” Cole continued, not letting Jett finish his character assessment. “I didn’t go to college, and maybe I don’t read right, but I think the sign says ‘Logans’ Horse Ranch.’” Cole thickened his Texas accent and scratched his head, perfecting his dumb cowboy stance. “Not one word in that whole name talks about a rescue farm, a sanctuary for abused animals, or Logans’ charity cases. Nope, this here ranch is a working ranch. Which means, I need to turn a profit in order to keep the doors open. So what you need to do, and I’ll say it real slow for ya, is get that devil of a horse out of here. And so help me, Jett. You better do it now before Katie, aka bleeding-heart Harris, shows up.”
“Too late, bleeding-heart Harris is already here,” said a voice from behind Cole.
A slight whisper of chills fanned out along Cole’s neck, but he ignored it and uttered a curse instead. He plastered a smile on his face as he turned around.
Not all women looked good in cowboy hats. Some were dwarfed by the masculinity of it. But not Katie. Her strong chin and defined cheekbones were made to strike a pose under the broad brim. With hands on hips, her eyes narrowed as she arched an eyebrow, Katie looked the part of a woman ready to go into battle. She hadn’t changed her shirt from earlier, which didn’t help Cole one bit. The white of her blouse was still blushing pink with the color of her skin beneath. Damn Katie. Why couldn’t she just listen to him? Maybe it was because he’d never been able to carry out his threats against her. Not this time though. A man had to draw his line in the sand at some point.
Jett, having obviously noticed Katie earlier, already had his charm out in full force. His smile was well placed and sincere. “Katie, what perfect timing. Maybe you can help me. I’m having a heck of a time trying to get Cole here to see reason.”
“Shut it, Jett,” Katie said, pushing the brim of her hat up. “You fight your own battles. I’m here because your message told me to meet you at the stables. Said you had a surprise for me.” Katie eyed the trailer as it swayed and screamed as if in the throes of pain. “Is this for me?”
Cole couldn’t help noticing the sparkle in her eyes and the excited lick of her lips as she ran over and stepped on the wheel rim. Katie peered in through the cut-out windows, balancing precariously on her tiptoes. Her cowboy boots were already mucked with mud and hay.
Cole smacked Jett on his arm—hard. “You’re a jerk. You know that?”
“Ouch.”
“I mean it. Don’t be showing your ugly mug around here for a while.”
But Jett just smiled. He thought he’d already won. Thought Cole could deny Katie nothing, but Cole wasn’t throwing in the towel yet.
“I promise in a year you’ll be thanking me,” Jett said. “She’s from good stock. She’s got papers, Cole. And I’ll help defray the costs.”
Cole ignored him, which was easy to do in the midst of the high-pitched neighs and kicks coming from every horse breeder’s worst nightmare.
“Oh Cole, she’s beautiful.” Katie turned her brown eyes on him, her face flushed with excitement. “She’s just a little scared, that’s all. Some TLC and she’ll be good as new.”
Cole gritted his teeth and shook his head. Damn Katie. Of course, to her the thing was beautiful. She’d never seen an ugly horse. But Cole didn’t even have to look to know what it really was—a flea-bitten, pissed-off bag of bones. Something he’d have to pay the glue factory to take off his hands.
“I know what you’re thinking, Cole,” Katie said. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of her. You won’t have to do a thing.” Katie turned back and cooed at the possessed mare, not at all concerned that the sides of the trailer bowed with the force of her kicks.
“Katie, don’t get your heart set. You have no idea what condition this horse is in. And honestly, honey, I don’t have the resources to save every godforsaken animal,” Cole said. “As it is, this ranch is nothing but a giant hole in the desert I’m pouring money into.”
Katie put her finger to her lips and shushed him loudly. “She’ll hear you. You don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
This was not good. “No. The answer’s no,” Cole said, proud that he added just the right amount of firmness to his voice.
Jett stepped closer and mock whispered, “Way to go down swinging, bro. Stay strong.”
Cole sliced his gaze to Jett. “I hate you.”
Jett responded with a clenched fist in the air and a nod as if they were unified in the cause of male power.
Cole turned his back on Jett; he’d deal with him later. But as Cole watched Katie, the way her breath quickened, the way her skin grew flushed as she peppered Jett with questions, he realized what everybody else already knew. He’d lost. And to think her father thought Katie would give all this up for a chance at going to school in the big city. Horses were in the blood, and this girl had the fever pumping through every vein.
“Hosea, help me get her out. She’s scared to death,” Katie said as she headed toward the back of the trailer.
“No!” Cole ran after her, his heart in his throat. “Don’t you know this horse would kick your head off as soon as look at ya? Hosea, open the gate and back the trailer into the arena.”
Resigned, Cole looked inside. In the dimness of the trailer, the horse’s eyes seemed to glow as if possessed. Huge and white, they rolled in fear. The bony sockets of her face were pronounced and the flesh sucked deep around the skull. Her withers stuck out, resembling two right angles draped with a matted coat, far from its original color. Foul-smelling feces covered her lower legs, and he didn’t even want to think about how badly overgrown her feet were.
“What’s her name?” Cole asked as he watched the horse thrash against her halter, lip back, teeth bared.
“Sweet Thing.”
Cole eyed Jett and seriously thought about closing his hands around his best friend’s throat.
Hosea backed up the trailer, and the gate was thrown open. Cole went to untie the halter and barely missed getting his fingers taken off. “Christ, how’d you get her in here?”
“Sedation.”
“Well, let’s do that,” Cole said, checking to make sure his hand still had all five digits.
“Ahh . . . this is sedated.”
Cole stepped back and ran his hands over his eyes, and then glared at his friend.
Jett didn’t acknowledge the look, but kept his eyes straightforward and rocked on his heels.
“Hey,” Katie said, “let me call Pa and see if he can come down to check her out.” She pulled out her phone and stepped away, plugging her other ear with her finger.
Cole craned his neck, and ensuring Katie was out of earshot, turned back to Jett. “Listen, I’ll pay you fifty bucks if you use the damn gun you keep in your truck and put us all out of our misery.”
Jett raised his eyebrows. “You do mean the horse, right?”
“At this point I’ll take either. Two birds, one bullet type of thing.”
“That hurts. It really hurts,
Cole.” Jett placed his hand over his heart and bit his lip.
“Jack—”
“Pa’s coming. He’ll be right over,” Katie said, bounding toward the trailer. Without hesitation, she stuck her hand inside the trailer and untied the horse. The door was unlatched and the horse streaked out like its tail was on fire. Ears pinned, head high, the mare ran to the far corner, and hovered at the back fence. A sorrier piece of horseflesh, Cole had never seen.
Katie stood perched on the lowest rail, her body leaning forward as if ready to jump the fence. “I could kill that Old Man Joe. It’s no wonder his wife and kids up and left him. Who’d do this to an animal?”
Cole didn’t answer. He’d seen this one too many times. In a bad economy, people struggled and animals got the worst of it. The problem was, most of the time, the animals never recovered. The possibility of this mare ever letting a stud near her was a long shot. Which meant Cole would be feeding and doctoring this horse for the rest of its natural life with no chance of recouping his costs.
Sweet Thing? Really? The Lord sure had a sense of humor. Glad someone was laughing.
Katie sat catty-corner from her father at the kitchen table that was placed off to the side in the small breakfast nook. The formal dining area across the hall was used only on special occasions, but Katie knew that when her mom had been alive, her parents had eaten there every night. Now that it was just her and Pa, dinner was a quiet affair. The silence was easier; too many battles had been waged and lost over this table. One particular sore spot was Pa’s fight over food. Katie, a lover of animals and a respecter of the environment, couldn’t stomach eating meat. And Pa, who’d made his living off vetting to the huge cattle ranches, couldn’t understand not supporting the very industry that put food on their table. As far as Pa was concerned, vegetarianism should be considered the eighth deadly sin. Years of angry words had finally calmed into a sort of truce. Both had learned to hold their tongues as Pa served her beef, and Katie continued to eat around it.
The sounds of Pa’s knife and the scratch of Katie’s pencil as she rushed to finish her homework were the only break in the quiet. Another contention, homework at the dinner table, but Katie had spent her afternoon at the stables, trying to settle down Sweet Thing, and she’d run out of time.
Katie flicked her gaze to Pa’s chipped coffee mug. Pa’s rituals were as much a part of Katie’s life as horses and Cole, and this was no exception. Dinner was over when his coffee was done, and only then could Katie escape to her room.
And escape was her latest tactical maneuver. College was the most recent reason for heated words between her and Pa. Any night Katie avoided that conversation, she counted it as a success in her book.
Tonight was not that night.
“The deadline is this week,” Pa said. “Have you made your decision?” He carefully laid his knife on his plate and switched his fork to the opposite hand. Pa’s table manners were impeccable. Even though it was just the two of them more often than not, their table was set with her mother’s white lace tablecloth and linen napkins. When she was little she once lamented over not being able to use paper plates and cups like the Logan family. Pa’s answer had been simple. Only a minor ordering of letters separated the word “dog” from “god,” and yet the two words couldn’t be more different. The same could be said for humans and animals with the difference hinging on something as simple as a linen napkin.
“A decision, Katie. I’m waiting,” Pa said.
Katie flicked her gaze to Pa. His hair, combed back in dark rows showed glimpses of pink scalp underneath, and was only lightly touched with white. His nose was curved slightly to one side, a souvenir from a fight, but whether from a man or a horse he never told her.
Katie bowed her head low over her book, her eyes closed briefly in resignation. Pretending to be caught up in algebra wouldn’t help, but she wasn’t above trying. She erased the problem and focused on not transposing the numbers for the second time.
“I think you should go to Cornell in New York, they have the best veterinarian program. But I understand if you choose Washington State, since many of your friends are going there.”
Katie reached for her glass of water, and her stomach sank as Pa stirred the cream into his coffee. She watched as the white clouds rolled against the black, changing the color to a rich mocha. Too much time left to simply stall; she’d have to engage.
Katie set her pencil down, her palms suddenly wet. She looked Pa square in the eyes, just as he’d taught her. The color was the same unexciting brown as hers, but Pa’s vision had never been keener, and to this day he didn’t need glasses. “I’m kinda thinking of staying here. Go to the community college in town. I could live here, take care of Star. Cole will need my help with Sweet Thing, and . . .” She swallowed hard. “Take care of you.”
Katie flashed him a sheepish smile. Taking care of James Harris would be like befriending a wild cougar—it couldn’t be done.
A crimson flush slowly spread up Pa’s neck and cheeks, and Katie quickly began tucking papers into her book in case an exit presented itself. Pa’s nightly ritual mocked her as he stirred his coffee to cool, the small clicking of his spoon as rhythmic as a heartbeat. She took a sip of water, her throat suddenly dry.
“Now why would you do that, Katie?” Pa’s voice was calm, his tone so flat it could pass for boredom. But Katie knew better; Pa was never bored.
Katie pushed a wilted leaf of spinach around her plate. She’d stated her reason, or the only reason she was willing to give. Less talking meant less ammo; she’d learned from the best—Pa.
Pa took a small sip. To anyone else it would seem he was stalling, but Katie knew better. Pa never minced words. “Cole’s not ready to marry, honey. And I’m sure not ready for you to be doing anything else with him.”
A rush of heat flushed her skin as Katie jumped up, scraping the chair across the wood floor, hoping Pa would miss her reddening face. She carried her plate over to the wastebasket and scraped the whole lot into the trash. The untouched sirloin landed in the bottom with a satisfactory thud.
Pa pushed his own plate forward and placed his elbows on the table, a sign of just how agitated he really was. “There’s a time in every man’s life when he’s ready to step up and take responsibility, ready to take care of a family. Cole’s not there. I love that man like he was my own son, but you’re my flesh and blood, and I made a vow to your ma to keep you safe.”
Katie wasn’t up to having this conversation, and knowing that Pa saw too much, she set her back to him and stared out the window above the sink. According to Pa, her mother made him cut a window here so she could look out over the wraparound porch and across where the properties met in a long stretch of untouched land. Of course, over the years the scenery had changed. A stable and arena had been added, and in the distance a huge field of alfalfa grass waited for harvest as feed for the horses.
“Cole’s a good man, but he’s a man nonetheless.” Pa had a voice that could fill a room, but now it hovered above a whisper. “There’s a certain hunger a man gets, and Cole’s eyes nearly burn with it. I don’t want my daughter to get hurt.”
“You underestimate him,” Katie said softly. Her stomach was so knotted she wished she hadn’t eaten. “Cole loves me.”
“Has he said that? Sure hard to believe when he’s got those barflies creeping out of his house at dawn.”
Katie sucked in her breath. She’d known, of course; had been there in the stables and seen him walk different women out to their cars. She had clasped her arms around her middle, and blinked away tears as Cole kissed the other women good-bye and waved as they drove down the dirt drive. But Katie also took solace in what she hadn’t seen. He’d never watched their cars turn out of sight, never looked back over his shoulder with longing, but simply walked up his steps and into his house with nothing more than a resounding bang of the screen door.
And then she knew. Cole didn’t love them. He loved her. He just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter 3
Present day
A barking dog woke Jett. Except, it wasn’t a barking dog, it was his phone alerting him that he’d just received a text message. Jett cracked open one eyelid, then immediately slammed it shut. Gray walls, gray carpet, and a huge framed black-and-white picture of Albert Einstein above the vanity were definite clues that this wasn’t his house, wasn’t his room. Okay, it wasn’t called gray anymore, it was . . . what’s the word? . . . pewter. Yeah, he knew what pewter was, and it was something that would have him handing in his man card if people knew. Growing up as the only boy with four older sisters had its consequences.
But damn, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Staying awake was one of the ten commandments of going back to a girl’s house.
Always use protection.
Never fall asleep.
Always keep car keys easily accessible for a clean getaway.
There was more, but his head was hurting so bad he couldn’t remember the rest. Maybe one was, don’t drink, but that could hinder his success rate at picking up chicks an awful lot.
He groaned softly. Best to get it over with. He opened his eyes and took in the blonde who was lying beside him. She was sprawled out on her stomach, hair a riot around her head. He tried hard, could actually feel the gears of his brain turn as he fought to come up with a name. Ugh—he rubbed his temple—better stop or he might permanently damage something.
The woman next to him sighed, and then relaxed back into some pretty heavy breathing, telling him she’d be passed out for a while. At least he had that going for him. She moved a little, adjusted her leg, pulling the sheet lower down her body. His gaze traveled down the curve of her spine and paused at the base of her back. That’s right. She was the girl with the wild tattoo from the bar. She’d been wearing low-slung jeans and a short shirt that allowed him glimpses of a wicked-looking tattoo. Quick flashes of soft skin covered with blues and reds that drove him crazy until he just had to know what was hiding beneath her clothes.
