by Em Petrova
“Neither do I. If I did, he wouldn’t have called me Kingsley.”
Johnny moved up next to him as they scoped out the seating arrangement. King pointed and they headed toward a pair of seats about halfway up the bleachers. “Good view of the horses’ backs,” King said.
They took their seats and King reached into the breast pocket of his worn Carhartt jacket for his notepad and pen. He liked writing down details of the horses that interested him. It was something his uncle Toby had taught him back in the days when he’d drag King to auctions all over the state, looking for the best stock to breed or train.
But that had ended too soon when King’s dad demanded he stay home and lend his muscle on their own working ranch. No time for dreaming about training race horses when simple ranchin’ was in your blood, were his father’s words.
The old man had been gone five years and King still heard his voice clearly as if he sat beside him. No dreamin’, he told himself, poising pen over paper as the first horses were brought out for inspection.
The owner ran them around the ring. Johnny nudged him with his arm. “Good stock.”
“Yeah.” King wasn’t committing to buying anything for his own ranch today. He had all the stock he needed. He was only here to help make a decision about a pony for his six-year-old niece.
The auctioneer opened the bidding.
“Low, in my opinion,” King said.
“You’d know.” Johnny’s words always surprised King. His brother-in-law looked up to him a lot when it came to horses. Women not so much. He’d managed to tame King’s wild sister Rachel into a loving wife and mother while King just had a string of failed attempts with the opposite sex. Johnny and Rachel harassed and teased King every chance they got about going to auction and looking for a wife, but he was happy as he was.
A bachelor.
No wasted time worrying about getting inside in time for dinner. If he wanted to eat, he grabbed a microwave meal or charred a steak on the grill.
He didn’t have time for a woman who didn’t understand the life of a rancher was hard work, long hours and no life.
Not exactly husband material, but he shrugged it off whenever he thought about it.
The horses were sold and another group appeared. Johnny asked King something about the next lot. Then a dandy little pony was brought in.
“Nice little Appaloosa filly.” King sat up straighter.
Johnny took interest. “Be a good one for Sierra.”
“Yup. Takes to all kinds of riding disciplines. Could last her into adulthood.”
“What’s the top price she’ll go for, you think?” Johnny asked.
“Four, maybe five grand.”
“Worth it?” Johnny asked.
“We’ll see when she runs, won’t we?”
The owner jogged around the pen leading the speckled pony, who shook her mane in a spirited way.
“That’s the one. Don’t go higher than a grand,” King advised.
A few minutes later, Johnny had committed to writing a nice-sized check and Sierra would be a happy girl.
“Wanna call it quits?” King asked.
“Nah, let’s see what else they got.”
King chuckled. “You write out any more checks and my sister’ll have you sleeping in the barn for a month.”
Johnny shot him a grin that said he wasn’t scared and they settled down for the remainder of the auction.
Close to the end, King realized what Johnny was doing.
The horses were getting increasingly better and he knew some stock with good bloodlines would be offered up today. For years his brother-in-law had been trying to get King into the big-time by purchasing a horse that would be the start of a new venture—kick him outside of regular ranching into breeder and trainer status.
It had probably given Johnny the wrong impression when King had slowly begun to add on to his ranch by putting big money into his barn instead of his house and filling it with mares of good blood that were ready for the best stallions to breed them. He’d also set up several new paddocks and had a training track with a starting gate he’d snagged from someone downstate last year.
From anyone’s view, King was prepping his land to raise the best, but he was far from ready for that day to come. Especially since it would require another six or seven figures, money he’d never get.
He’d gone in with crooked teeth and they were still crooked, the whole idea wonky when he knew he’d never get the racing bloodlines he wanted.
He moved to stand but Johnny grabbed his elbow. “We’re just watchin’, King. Don’t get your tightie-whities up your crack.”
He sank down again and as the next horse was led out, he found himself sitting forward, his fist pressed to his lips as he assessed the glorious horse stock standing in front of him.
“Damn,” Johnny said, low.
“Damn indeed.” What he wouldn’t give to put his hands on enough money to purchase such a beauty. But to do that, he’d have to give up half his ranchland, his cabin and probably his herd too.
He felt Johnny’s stare on him and cut a look his way. “Knock it off,” King said.
“Ever thought of getting some investors to go in with you? You could be the brains and skills behind a horse like that and they can foot the bill.”
It’d take more than investors—it’d take a damn miracle.
King stood. “Time to go.”
While Johnny wrote out that check, King backed the horse trailer up to the gate. When he led the pony into the trailer and settled her in with some hay, he thought about that thoroughbred that was probably right now going for big money.
Money he didn’t have.
Damn if he didn’t wish he did.
He got behind the wheel and Johnny joined him in the truck. “Think Sierra’ll be happy?” King asked his brother-in-law.
“I think she’ll want to sleep with it.”
They shared a chuckle.
All the way back to his sister and brother-in-law’s place, King only half listened to Johnny’s conversation, grunting at the appropriate pauses. But his mind was back on owning that racing horse. Well, not that one—any would do to fill those dreams.
When they reached the house, his sister and Sierra came running out into the yard. Rachel got the child out of the way of the truck and trailer, but she bounced up and down on her little cowgirl boots like it was Christmas Day.
King laughed. “I think you’ve just been made Dad of the year.”
Johnny grinned and got out. Sierra leaped into his arms and he hugged her tight. “Did you get my pony, Daddy?”
“Sure did, princess. Come see.”
Rachel grinned at King and they followed father and daughter to the back of the trailer. Johnny opened the door and Sierra pasted both hands over her mouth. “Oh my God. She’s beautiful.” Tears started flowing from the little girl and then from her parents. King might have blinked back some wetness in his own eyes but in the end, he showed the girl how to lead her pony out of the trailer and into the yard.
While the pair got to know each other, Rachel stood off to the side with him. “She’s so happy. I remember when Daddy gave me my first horse.”
King looked to his sister. She looked so much like their momma while he resembled their dad. Her light brown, curly hair fluttered around her face in the breeze coming off the mountains, and she pushed it back.
“I remember too. You couldn’t wait to saddle break her and tried to ride her that first day.”
“Disaster.” She bent and tugged up the leg of her jeans to show a faded scar across her shin.
He laughed. “We’ll see if Sierra’s as stubborn as her mother.”
Rachel smacked at him. “Come inside and have some iced tea.”
“I will, thanks.” They left Johnny and Sierra in the yard oohing and ahhing over the pony while they went into the ranch house.
He wiped his feet on the mat and followed her to the kitchen. Rachel fetched a pitcher of tea fro
m the fridge and poured two glasses. She passed him one.
“Thanks.”
“Tell me Johnny didn’t spend more than the budget.”
“Not a dime more.”
“I knew you’d keep him in check. Thank you for going along.”
“He knows horses, too. Dunno why he thinks I’ll have better advice.”
“Because you know more and everyone in these parts knows it.”
He looked at her, sensing more coming. He brought the glass to his lips. “Speak your mind, Rachel. You never did hold back.”
Leaning against the counter, she stared at him a moment. “You had all those dreams, King. Of training horses or starting your own bloodline on your ranch.”
“Not you too.” He set his glass on the counter. “If I had the money, I’d go for the bloodline and hire someone else to train them.”
“Life is short. It’s passing you by, King.” Her blue eyes searched his face.
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just saying you’re not getting any younger and now’s the time to go after those dreams. Uncle Toby instilled the love in you. You can’t let things our father said about you being a simple rancher become your destiny. Who said you can’t be both?”
“My wallet says so.”
“So take on investors.”
He met her direct stare. Everything about the homey kitchen urged a man to relax. But leave it to his sister to poke and prod at the small painful spots in him. Reminding him of his dreams he had no hope of ever reaching felt like a blow.
He grabbed his glass and drained it. Then he set it in the sink and turned for the door. “Thanks for the tea. Gotta get on home and see to the chores.”
She followed him outside. There Sierra was making friends with the filly and was brushing her under her father’s watchful eye.
He looked up as King closed the horse trailer door. “You leaving?”
“Yeah, gotta get home.”
He and Rachel exchanged a look.
King stopped and faced both. “Look, I know you mean well. But unless I find a money tree out back, that cash I need to buy a thoroughbred from proven racing lines is never getting into my hands.” He spread them to show they were empty. “I make a good life for myself doing something I love. Leave it at that, okay?”
Rachel folded her arms across her chest and eyed him. He knew from experience she was only letting the topic go for now. First chance she got, she’d be urging him to find investors and buy that horse.
He scuffed a hand over his jaw and then walked up to his niece. “You treat her real good, okay?”
“I will, Uncle King!” She didn’t look away from the object of her adoration.
He ruffled her hair and stroked the pony’s mane before getting into his truck. The miles between their place and his didn’t give his mind time to stop working over the things they’d bombarded him with today. Reminding him of his dreams was a dangerous thing, something he couldn’t afford to dwell on. Because he was a Yates and his daddy was right—they were simple ranchers. Not gentlemen ranchers with stock worth more than most people made in a couple of years.
He let out a groan as he reached the long, bumpy drive leading to his spread. The clouds were gathering overhead, heralding rain tomorrow. A lot to be done then.
He parked the truck and detached the trailer. He didn’t head for the house but went straight to the barn and saddled a horse.
What he needed was hard work to occupy his mind and center his thoughts again.
No time for the frivolous dreams of a young man who’d hardly known the meaning of work.
“Get on,” he told the horse, who started forward.
As King passed the cabin, he threw a glance toward the back, hoping to spot a money tree.
Chapter Two
King’s muscles ached far too much for a man of thirty-five. He had done a good amount of hard work today, branding all the yearlings of the herd. But either the cows were getting tougher or he was plain older.
A hot shower would help. Stretching too. Right now, his idea of stretching was bending his elbow to bring his beer to his lips. The ice-cold local brew from a buddy who kept him supplied hit the spot and King leaned back in his chair with contentment.
This was the life he’d yearned for—hard work, peace and quiet. The only sound he heard was the creak of his chair legs on the porch floor as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
He polished off his beer and closed his eyes, taking in the fresh air. He never could get enough of that. He slept with a window cracked even if it was frigid. In these parts, the winters could drop below zero but he still loved waking to the sharp smell of snow.
A rumble of an engine made him open his eyes to see a small red car coming up the drive. A visitor, and by the looks of it, driving a rental. Nobody in these parts drove something so small when on bad roads; it would surely be stranded.
He stood as the driver rolled to a stop and parked. The man getting out of the car was unfamiliar though dressed more like a rancher than he expected. In worn jeans and a denim shirt, he might have fit in if his hat and boots weren’t so clean.
King met him in the yard. “Can I help ya?” Then he got a good look at the man’s face. “Dickson! How the hell are ya, man?”
Travis Dickson owned a small ranch about ten miles from there, but King rarely set eyes on the man. He was always in Hollywood, a big-time director or producer. He never could keep the two straight.
He extended a hand and Dickson gripped it hard. They shared a grin, and Dickson clapped him on the back. “Good to see you again. How long’s it been?”
“Three, four years?”
He looked past him and nodded. “You got the house finished, I see. Looks real nice.”
“Thanks. Hard to find that spare time but I finally did. Come up and sit a spell. I’ll get some beers.”
“I’d love that.” Dickson followed him to the porch and took a seat while King went inside to grab a couple more beers from the fridge. When he came back out, his old friend was kicked back, drinking it all in.
“Love this place,” he said.
King passed him a beer. “I was just thinking along those lines when you drove up. Speaking of.” He peered at the tin can of a car. “What the hell are you drivin’?”
He chuckled. “Rental.”
“I figured.” King sank to a chair and twisted the top off his beer. With a flick of his thumb, he sent it sailing into a bucket along with a couple dozen other caps he’d accumulated over the past few months.
“I’m not too worried about getting stuck since it’s early summer. We’re doing some filming up this way. Maybe you heard.”
“I might have.” He didn’t do much socializing and when he was in town, he got in and out quickly with his supplies.
“A western series.”
King gave a grunt of acknowledgement.
“I saw you leave the auction yesterday.”
At that, he arched a brow. “Oh yeah?”
“You seemed in a hurry to get out or I would have chased you down to talk.”
“You in the market for some horses?” King asked.
“Old habit to go to auction when the time comes, I guess. For now, I don’t have time for horses and the ones I keep on my ranch are well-cared for. I won’t add more burden to my help.”
“Makes sense.”
Dickson eyed him. “You left when the racing stock came on the block.”
Christ, not him too. Was everyone in the county going to bother him about a dream he’d had when he was all but twenty? Things changed.
He gave a guarded nod and sipped his beer.
“Mighty pretty stock they were too,” Dickson said.
“Yup,” he said without any real commitment to the idea.
“Look, I’ll stop beating around the bush here.”
“Appreciate it if you do,” King said.
He chuckled. “I meant it when I said it’s beautiful up here. Pretty
near perfect.”
He eyed his old friend. “What are you getting at?”
“I need a location for filming.”
Oh hell no.
“We’d mostly be filming around the house and barn. Might use some of your horses in the background. You’d be compensated generously for all of it.”
At that, his stomach gave a little lurch.
“Well,” he said slowly, “cash is always good on a ranch. But the thought of film crews underfoot and drama-queen actors taking tantrums about mud on their boots doesn’t sit easy with me.”
“My actors have been working in mud as it is. They’re used to it. We’re renting out McHale’s place.”
“Yeah, guess I heard that.” King set aside his beer and sat back to eye Dickson. He was a straight-shooter but he couldn’t help but sense there was more to the man being here.
“We wouldn’t do much to the place, just move some things around for scenery purposes. Nothing to mess you up. No remodels.”
“That’s a relief, I guess.”
“We’d need you to finish that fence there.” He pointed to the solid fence line that broke off to an abrupt halt, a project left unfinished.
King considered it. He needed to finish the damn fence anyway. He’d only gotten lazy after realizing for the dozenth time that no training would be done here. Still had the materials stacked up, though.
“And as I mentioned, you’d be compensated.”
“What aren’t you saying?” King pressed.
Dickson chuckled and tugged on his hat brim. “You always did have a no-bullshit radar, King. All right, I need a trainer.”
At the word, his stomach gave a full flip. “Horse trainer?”
“I’d be relying on your horses to already be well-behaved. I have an actor who could use some help improving her skills.”
He groaned. “There are people who teach those skills for a living. I’m a busy man, Dickson.”
“I realize that. It’s just that those people can’t help her the way I know you could. You have a way with people.”
“Now you’re sweet-talkin’.”
Again, Dickson laughed. But as he met King’s gaze, he sobered. “She’s a hard worker and won’t give you any trouble. I need her to be able to get on a horse and look natural handling one. The role she’s playing is a rancher’s wife, so—”
