by Deb Kastner
John Needleson said he’d be waiting for her in front of his stable with the horse he had in mind for her. He’d almost sounded excited when he told her about the feisty brown-and-white Appaloosa gelding.
She couldn’t help but allow his enthusiasm to raise her hopes. Wouldn’t it be lovely if the first horse she “shopped” for was the right one?
She shook her head and chuckled. There she went again, daydreaming in a very real world, where daydreams could be dangerous.
A fiftyish-looking man with white tufts of hair that stuck up in every direction on his head waited for her outside his very large, very modern-looking stable. She didn’t notice another thing about him, except that he was holding on to the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen.
She had looked at a million pictures of horses in books and on-line, but the one before her beat them all in looks and style.
She quickly parked her truck and rushed to the horse’s side, not caring that her anticipation and delight were showing. John Needleson had been right on the mark for her in choosing a horse.
Her heart pounded as she looked the gelding over. The Appaloosa tossed his head as if protesting the halter he wore, then whickered softly.
He was spirited, she realized, which enchanted her almost as much as his wavy mane. Equally attractive was the gentle nature of his eyes as he nuzzled her hand, looking for a treat.
“He’s a fine horse, ma’am,” said Mr. Needleson, speaking for the first time. “As soon as I spoke with you on the telephone, I just had a feeling this young fellow was the one you were looking for.”
Startled, she remembered her manners. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Needleson. I’m Dixie Sullivan, your new neighbor.”
The man smiled, but for some reason it didn’t appear to reach his eyes. He looked rough and hard, but she supposed career cowboys would look that way. Perhaps she was judging too harshly.
“John will do, ma’am.”
She reached out her hand, determination to make him her friend welling up in her. “And of course you’ll call me Dixie.”
He mumbled something under his breath and nodded, directing his gaze to the horse.
She didn’t need any prodding to turn her attention back to the horse. “I’m sure you noticed how charmed I am by your pony. He is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
John chuckled. She snapped her gaze to his, but his eyes were shaded. Was he laughing at her?
She felt heat rise to her face, knowing she was showing far more enthusiasm than she should, as the buyer. She wondered if buying horses was like buying cars, where only a fool paid the full price.
But this horse, which she’d already mentally named Victory, was worth whatever price she paid. Besides, the price John named was reasonable. Cheap, even, if the ads she’d perused were anything to go by.
“How many horses have you seen this morning, Miss Sullivan?” John drawled, running a rough hand through the chaotic tips of his hair.
She noted he clung to formality. She hoped it didn’t mean he distrusted her, or wouldn’t be willing to sell Victory to her.
“To be honest, Victory—I mean, your gelding—is the first horse I’ve looked at,” she admitted. “I suppose I ought to see the rest of the horses on my list before I make my final decision.”
She already knew she’d choose Victory, no matter how many other horses she saw today or any day. She was decisive, and that’s how it went when she had her heart set on something.
Still, she thought she probably ought to go through the motion of shopping around, at least, in case anyone asked her.
“Nonsense,” John replied promptly. “You don’t buy a horse like you buy clothes or groceries or something.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “It’s a heart thing.”
A heart thing.
An odd idea to come from a tough cowboy like John. There must be more to the man than what appeared on the surface, she decided, her heart discerning a story underneath his words he wasn’t willing to share.
In any case, John was right. It was a heart thing. She could feel it—she and Victory were meant to be together. Like peanut butter and jelly.
She ran her hands over the horse, noticing once again how skittish he was around his head and legs. But John quickly explained that away, saying he was still young and not used to strangers. That was probably all there was to it. Surely nothing out of the ordinary.
John walked the gelding around the corral a couple of times, allowing her to look him over. He had a nice, easy gait, pleasant to the eyes. He would be a joy to ride, she just knew it.
“Is he what you’re looking for?” John asked when she didn’t speak. “I don’t mean to sound pushy, but as it happens, I’ve got another buyer who is extremely interested in this gelding. He’s coming by this afternoon, in fact. I’ll let you have first dibs at this fine fellow, but I can’t hold him for you until you make a decision. I hope you understand.”
She nodded, then mentally faltered. Faking another buyer was the oldest salesman trick in the book. Was she being conned by this sweet yet gruff old man?
“I think I’d…” She wished she’d invited Erik along. He’d know for sure if she was making a wise choice.
She didn’t even know what other questions to ask, what else to check out, other than his gait and any obvious outward faults.
Erik would know.
Should she ask to ride the horse before she bought him? What if Victory had some inward, hidden fault she couldn’t see with the naked eye? Something a true horseman like Erik would recognize.
“I wondered if I could—or you, I guess—could ride him for a minute?”
John immediately shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. Can’t do.”
He lifted up one of Victory’s legs, slapping the horse on the neck when he shied away. Gripping Victory’s leg between his knees, he pointed to the bottom of the hoof. “He’s not shod. You’ll have to have that done before you can ride him.”
“Oh.” She was both disappointed and embarrassed at not knowing better. A real horsewoman would know such things.
Heat flared to her cheeks as she mentally stammered over what to say next.
But then she realized it didn’t matter whether or not she rode the horse now, or even whether there might be some sort of fault with him. Even if she never once rode this horse in her lifetime, he was her horse.
She’d have him shod this afternoon, and then she’d learn to ride him, no matter what quirks he might have. Even if it took her a year to become proficient in the basics.
It didn’t matter. She already felt a growing love for Victory, and sensed instinctively he would return the affection she gave.
Since she didn’t bring Erik to check the horse out, she’d have to follow her heart on this one and trust in God for the rest.
Maybe it was foolish, but there it was. She’d waited her whole life for this moment.
“I want to buy him.”
Her heart lightened the moment the words were out of her mouth. Everything was going to work out. It had to. God had brought her this far. He wasn’t going to let her down now, not with the fulfillment of a lifelong dream right here in front of her.
John smiled, this time the genuine article. He looked years younger, the hard lines on his face fading.
“What does Mrs. Needleson think of this beauty?” she asked, lightly probing about his personal life.
His mouth immediately became a thin, hard line that matched the ice in his gaze. She sighed inwardly, wishing she’d kept her big mouth shut and left well enough alone. But she was only trying to be neighborly.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” he said gruffly, interrupting her apology with a wave. “Cathy died two years ago. This is her mare’s foal.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Really.” Her heart broke for the man. He obviously missed his wife desperately. Even the birth of his wife’s mare’s foal brought back painful memories.
&nb
sp; She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, wanting to lend whatever small comfort she could. “It must be very hard for you.”
He snatched his arm away and glared at her. “It’s okay. Now, do you want this horse or don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry.
Raising one eyebrow, he looked at his watch and shrugged.
Dixie decided to ignore his harsh tone and narrow attitude, writing it off as inner pain he wasn’t ready to deal with. It was only natural he’d have misgivings when faced with so many tender memories.
“I’d like to buy your horse. And I can promise you he’ll have a wonderful new home with me. I have lots of land, and a wonderful new stable to house him in.”
John snorted. “Yeah. A wonderful new home.”
Dixie pulled her hard-earned money from her pocket and counted out the crisp, new hundred-dollar bills with shaking fingers. “I’ll have one of my stable hands pick him up this afternoon.”
He took the money and pocketed it without looking at her. “Got yourself a real nice spread over there, do you?” The words were angry, derisive.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Very. I hope you’ll visit sometime.”
She made the offer without expecting him to hear the words, never mind respond.
He grunted. “I’ll do that.”
She looked up at him, taken aback by his casual statement. “You will?”
“Believe me, Miss Sullivan, you can bank on it.”
Chapter Nine
Erik sent his two most reliable men—definitely not including Ellis—to pick up Dixie’s new horse and have him shod in town as she’d instructed.
She had surprised him with her declaration that she’d found the one, as if choosing a horse was some kind of magical heart thing, and not knowledge and logic.
It wasn’t all knowledge and logic for him, either, he supposed. More of a gut instinct.
But then again, he knew what he was doing. Dixie was a complete novice where horses were concerned.
And she’d named him Victory.
He chuckled aloud and shook his head. What kind of a name was that for a horse?
The stable boys arrived back, bounding out of the truck with the energy of youth. But instead of going to unload the horse, they made a beeline straight for him, their expressions sober.
Worried.
“What’s wrong?” he muttered, immediately sensing trouble.
“It’s Miz Sullivan’s new horse, boss,” the older of the two hands answered, pulling his hat off and mopping his forehead with his sleeve. “He’s—”
“What?”
“Well. Would you look at this.” Erik recognized the sarcastic drawl as Ellis’s, and it was coming from the back of the trailer.
He gestured to the two youths, his gaze warning them to get Ellis away from the horse and out of the picture before Dixie arrived. It was no secret how Erik felt about Ellis, and how Ellis felt about Dixie. Everyone involved knew of the animosity between the threesome.
He set off immediately behind the stable hands, his heart bolting out of his chest as he saw Dixie rounding the corner of the main lodge, her eyes sparkling in delight.
He made an abrupt turn to intercept her, hoping to allow the hands time to deal with Ellis.
“Did you see Victory yet?” she asked, bouncing with nervous energy. She reached for his hand and pulled him along, as eager as a young child to show off her prize.
“Not yet,” he answered gruffly, but he didn’t release her hand, which felt soft and tiny in his. He allowed her to drag him, as slowly as he could manage, in the direction of the trailer.
“What a hoot.” Ellis again. Apparently the hands hadn’t done their job.
“What?” Dixie demanded, dropping Erik’s hand and rounding the corner of the trailer to confront Ellis. “What’s wrong with Victory?”
Ellis barked out a laugh. “You don’t know, do you, little miss?”
Erik felt darkness drop over him like a cloak. With supreme effort, he managed to control his anger, and with even less restraint, his fist, which clenched convulsively, begging for a target.
“Ellis,” he warned, his voice low and gravelly.
“What, boss?” Ellis protested. “I was just looking over Victory here,” he said, snickering as he said the horse’s name. “A fine-looking horse she’s got here. Perfect for her.”
Erik frowned at Ellis, then turned his attention to Victory, his gaze automatically running over the gelding’s frame, checking him for faults from head to toe.
He was a real beauty of a horse, all right. Erik would have chosen Victory himself, if given the opportunity.
But for Dixie?
Not the choice he would have made. Not the kind of horse he’d pictured her riding. Not the sweet, gentle mare he’d put her on.
He knew without asking exactly to what Ellis was referring. The horse was skittering way too much under a simple rope halter lead, and his round, brown eyes communicated his panic.
“Lady, you can’t ride this horse,” Ellis declared, hooting his disdain.
Dixie planted her fists on her hips and frowned. “And why is that, exactly?”
Erik’s chest tightened as he stepped forward to intercept the impending storm. She looked so tough. And inside she was so very vulnerable.
Why hadn’t she taken him with her to buy a horse? She should have asked for his help. He would have gladly given it to her.
“For starters,” Ellis sneered, “because he’s green broke and newly gelded. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”
“So?” she demanded, her face turning a shade darker by the second.
“Did you ride him, Dixie?” Erik asked gently, quietly, attempting to turn the tide of the conversation.
She whirled on him, her eyes glowing with sparks of anger that made his gut clench in empathy. “No, of course I didn’t ride him. He didn’t have his shoes on yet, as you well know.”
This time, every one of the stable hands laughed, though they sobered immediately when faced with Erik’s glare.
He reached for her, but she backed away and folded her arms around herself in an instinctively protective gesture that made Erik’s heart ache for her.
“What?” she asked, sounding suspicious as her gaze darted from boy to boy, finally resting on Ellis. “What did I do wrong?”
He wished she wouldn’t have phrased her question that way, especially not while looking straight at Ellis. She was unconsciously blaming herself for her error, even before she knew what she’d actually done wrong.
And Ellis was the worst person in the world she could ask. Couldn’t she see the blatant animosity spewing from the young man?
“You’ve been had, lady. You can’t ride this horse,” the belligerent boy scoffed.
“That’ll be enough, Ellis,” Erik barked.
Dixie laid a gentle hand on Erik’s chest, causing his heart to stop cold. “It’s okay, Erik. Let him have his say.” And to Ellis, “Go on.”
“You shouldn’t buy a horse without riding him,” he instructed, looking superior.
“I told you, I—”
“You can ride a horse without shoeing him first, Dixie. Especially in the meadow,” Erik inserted, his voice low and gentle, the same tone he’d use with the skittish horse now tied to the trailer.
“But John said I couldn’t!”
“John?” he asked, puzzled.
“John Needleson.”
Her nearest neighbor, discounting Erik.
Erik tensed. There was something more going on here than merely a mistake. It was a gut feeling, but he was a man who paid attention to his instincts.
He shook his head, though he kept his thoughts to himself. He’d bet his next paycheck Needleson sold her a green broke horse on purpose. He’d flat-out lied to her, and Erik wanted to know why. He made a mental note to investigate—find out just exactly what John Needleson was up to, and why he had any negative intere
st in Dixie.
“How could I have known horses didn’t need shoes?” Dixie’s eyes welled with tears, and Erik had never felt so helpless as he did at that moment. “Humans do.”
You could have taken me with you, he wanted to yell, but instead he put an arm around her. “It was an honest mistake,” he soothed.
Every tear wounded him, and he couldn’t imagine what they were doing to her. He only wished he could somehow take away her pain.
Incapable of helping Dixie through her trauma, he refocused his anger on John Needleson. How could the man deceive her like that?
“Snivel a little. That’ll help,” Ellis taunted, laughing derisively.
“You’re gone,” Erik shouted, glad he finally had someone to vent on. “As of now.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Ellis yelled, turning on him. “I’m the best man you have to run your horses, and you know it.”
“Not anymore you’re not,” Dixie inserted, wiping her tears away with the edge of her flannel shirt and glaring at Ellis.
Then she turned to Erik, her eyes flaming with anger. “And I don’t need your help. I can handle my staff problems on my own.”
Ignoring Dixie, Ellis shoved Erik on the shoulder, but he stood his ground. “You’re gonna can me because of a woman?”
“I’m firing you because of your attitude. Now move.” Erik turned his back on the young man and reached for the horse, which warily shifted to the side, away from his grasp.
He immediately dropped his hand and lowered his voice. “The rest of you boys better find something productive to do. Now.”
He didn’t have to say it twice. They were gone.
But when he turned around, so was Dixie.
Chapter Ten
Dixie had never been so disappointed in her life. Or so humiliated.
She had no one to blame but herself for her actions, and the fingers of guilt pointed right at her. She had bought the first horse she’d seen, and hadn’t even had the common sense to mount him.
It was bad enough the entire brood of stable hands had witnessed her error. They already disliked and distrusted her, and now she’d given them plenty of fodder with which to verify their original impressions.
