Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
The Meet Your Match Series
Other Books by Rachael Anderson
Author’s Note
Recommendations
Acknowledgements
About Rachael Anderson
© 2015 Rachael Anderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. The opinions and views expressed herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of HEA Publishing, LLC. Permission for the use of sources, graphics, and photos is also solely the responsibility of the author.
ISBN: 978-1-941363-10-2
Published by HEA Publishing
For all the fans of the Meet Your Match series.
Bless you for your enthusiasm and support.
The whirr of the helicopter blades pounded like a subwoofer in Colton McCoy’s ears, echoing off the surrounding, low-lying hills. Colton leapt over the gate and into position. Under the brim of his Stetson, his eyes scanned the horizon. It was only March, but the Nevada sun had been frying them all morning. With no clouds to temper the heat, the dry and barren desert outside of Silver Springs felt like a hot summer’s day in Colorado. Nearly forty thousand wild mustangs chose to call this place home, and Colton had no idea why. The water was scarce, the shade nonexistent, and the sun unforgiving.
Across the narrow valley floor, his friend, Will, manned the other half of the gate. Will had to yell to be heard above the sound of the oncoming chopper. “You ready for this?”
Colton’s muscles tensed and adrenalin pulsed through his body as he tugged the brim of his hat down and squinted into the early afternoon sky. Over the slight rise ahead, the whirring blades appeared first, followed by the round yellow and black body of the Robinson R22 chopper.
About two dozen mustangs crested the rise and charged toward Colton, stirring up dust into billowing clouds. The chopper followed close behind, coming dangerously close to the ground as the pilot guided the mob toward the enclosure. Fences lined each side of the small valley, creating a long, wide path that would usher the horses into entrapment.
Colton watched in awe, mesmerized by the untamed power and majesty of the approaching horses. As they neared the mouth of the enclosure, a beautiful chocolate mustang stopped and reared, slowing the other horses down. The mob began to change directions, away from the fencing, but the chopper quickly swung to the side, blocking the exit. At the same time, two trained horses were released not far from the mustangs. They darted through the fencing and toward the corral. After a moment of what seemed like indecision, the mustangs followed.
In a flurry of dust and pounding hoofs, they thundered past Colton. Wind from the chopper and horses whipped around him. He tugged the blue bandana tied around his neck over his mouth as a shield against the dust. Then he drove his shoulder into the gate, shoving it closed as quickly as he could. Will met him with the other half of the gate, and in a few deft movements, the two men had the horses secured in the enclosure. They stepped back just before a tan mustang crashed into the gate, fighting for its freedom.
The ground shuddered beneath Colton’s feet as more horses attempted escape, but the fencing was strong and resisted their efforts. The pilot in the hovering chopper gave a quick wave before veering off to search for additional herds.
A month ago, when Will had asked Colton if he wanted in on a wild mustang roundup, Colton’s response had been an emphatic yes. Get paid for rounding up wild horses? It sounded like an awesome, once-in-a-lifetime adventure to him. But now, as the horses continued to protest their captivity, the adventure lost its appeal.
Every year, the Bureau of Land Management removed thousands of wild horses from public lands. Too many horses drained the resources, making it necessary to control the population and keep the habitat healthy for the animals that remained. At the time Colton first learned about the program, it had made sense. But now, seeing the fear and belligerence in the eyes of the horses, he wasn’t so sure. The words “unjust” and “wrong” came to mind.
Will clapped him on the back and grinned. “You don’t see this every day. Pretty amazing, huh?”
“They are amazing.” Colton watched as the animals began to calm down and accept their confinement. “I can’t believe the BLM is going to stick them into a holding facility somewhere.”
“Not all of them. A large chunk of them will be auctioned off for adoption.”
Colton focused on the black stallion that seemed to be the leader of the group. He pranced around the holding yard in an antsy way, as though still searching for a way out.
Sorry, buddy. There isn’t one. Better get used to those fences.
“You’re looking a little sick,” said Will.
“I’m feeling a little sick.”
“If it helps, back in the day they used to poison horses to keep the numbers in balance. At least this way is more humane.”
Colton grimaced. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“You could always adopt some of them. Give them a good home and all that.”
“Maybe I will.”
His friend chuckled and shook his head. “You and your tender heart. I can only imagine what your daddy would say if you showed up with a bunch of wild mustangs.”
“I don’t have to imagine. I know,” said Colton, already hearing his father’s voice in his head. What in tarnation were you thinking? This isn’t a charity we’re operating, boy. It’s a business. And those horses are nothin’ but bad business.
“C’mon,” said Will. “The chopper will be back soon. Let’s get these horses harnessed and loaded before they track down another herd.”
As they started toward the opposite end of the enclosure, Will nudged him with his elbow. “You sure you don’t want a turn in the heli? It’s more exciting than closing gates, breathing in dust, and loading horses.”
“Positive,” said Colton. The farthest his feet had ever been from solid ground was on the high dive at the local community center. He’d been eleven at the time, and every step he’d climbed made his knees more wobbly, his breath more sporadic, and his heart race faster. By the time he’d reached the top, a full-on panic attack seized him. A friend had to help him crawl back down, and Colton had felt like a complete wuss in front of his entire fifth-grade class. He could get bucked off the back of a horse over and over again without breaking a sweat, but when it came to anything involving heights, he was brought to his knees every time.
Going for a thrill ride in the chopper was definitely ou
t of the question.
“Out of curiosity,” said Colton, nodding toward the enclosure, “how much do they sell for at an auction?”
“It depends. The wild ones usually go for a couple of hundred while the trained ones have sold for upwards of 10K.”
“Ten grand?” Colton whistled.
“You’re telling me,” said Will. “Every year the Mustang Heritage Foundation holds a makeover challenge. One hundred wild horses go to one hundred trainers who then have one hundred days to train them. A contest is held right before the auction and all the horses are judged. Those that make it to the top ten usually go for thousands.” He paused and studied his friend. “You should do it.”
“Yeah right.” But the seed had been planted, and Colton let it grow a little.
They arrived at the back of the enclosure, and Colton hopped over the two fences that created a chute leading from the corral to the truck. One by one, the horses would be ushered into the chute, harnessed, and loaded into the large cattle truck. It would be a rocky ride for the driver.
“You ever been tempted to compete?” Colton said as he checked over his side of the chute to make sure everything was secure.
“Me? Heck no,” said Will. “I don’t have the temperament for it.”
Which was true. Will was about as patient as a thirsty newborn colt wanting his first taste of his mother’s milk. Colton, on the other hand, enjoyed working with horses. He saw them as strangers wanting to be understood and known. Once he figured them out, there wasn’t much a horse wouldn’t do for him in return. In his experience, animals were easy to be patient with. People, not so much.
Colton finished checking the fencing and glanced up to see his friend watching him with a gleam in his eyes. “You’re considering doing that challenge, aren’t you?”
“Thinking’s not the same thing as doing.”
Will chuckled and moved to the back of the chute, getting ready to release the first horse. “It is if you’re Colton McCoy.”
Sunshine II, Samantha Kinsey’s semi-reliable yellow Volkswagen Beetle, puttered to a stop in the driveway of her childhood home. A colorful crystal sun catcher in the shape of a firefly dangled beneath her rearview mirror—a goodbye gift from her talented, jewelry-making roommate.
“It’ll bring you luck,” she’d said. “Not that you’re going to need it. You’re the luckiest person I know.”
Sam smiled as the crystals caught the light of the setting sun and refracted the rays into sparkling patterns across her dashboard. She was lucky. She had the world’s coolest parents, wonderful friends, a fresh-off-the-press college degree, and a to-die-for job offer from the Jason Brecken Design firm in Manhattan. Her world felt like sunshine and bubbles and happy dances.
Leaving her car squished to the brim with everything from clothes, laundry baskets, fluffy pillows, books, picture frames, and her very large portfolio, she jogged up the walkway and burst inside, more than ready for her summer of fun to begin.
“Surprise! Your brilliant, amazing, and talented daughter is officially home,” she called out. “Who’s excited?”
A drab, hugless silence greeted her, along with the faint scent of vanilla from an elusive plug-in.
Sam’s smile wilted. Where was everyone? Where were the yummy smells of Chicken Milano that her mother made every time she came home? Where were the hugs, the laughter, Kajsa and Adi’s excited chants of “Sam’s home! Sam’s home! Hooray!”
Some welcome home this was. Had her mom gotten the days mixed up? Impossible. Becky Kinsey never forgot anything—especially when it came to her only daughter. The barren feeling in the house gave empty nesting a whole new meaning.
Sam dropped her purse on the counter and pulled open the fridge, making a face at the moldy cheese and rotten tomatoes that sat on the shelf in front of her. What was going on? Had her parents taken a vacation without telling her? No, they’d never do that… Would they?
She hunted through her purse for her phone and slumped down on a barstool, tapping out a quick text to her mom.
Where are you?
Her fingers drummed against the counter as she waited for a response. Who forgot their only child was moving home from college? Granted, they’d officially celebrated her graduation four weeks ago, on the actual day she’d walked across the stage, but Sam hadn’t followed everyone home then. She’d stayed to work for three more weeks at the admissions office, then stayed an additional week to train her replacement. But now she was officially home for the summer. Surely this warranted another celebration. At the very least a welcome-home hug and some ice cream.
Sam stared at her phone, willing it to chime and vibrate with an answer. After a few minutes of waiting, she tried calling. A few rings later, a recording of her mother’s voice sounded in her ear, so Sam ended the call and tried her father. It went straight to voicemail. She shoved her phone back in her purse and shook her head. They’d probably gone out for dinner and a movie or something.
Wow.
Out the back window, the trees had become dark shadows against the graying skies. Sam sighed. She should probably unload her car and get settled before it got too dark. If her parents didn’t call back soon, she’d order a pizza and invite Kajsa and Adi over to share it with her. At least they had a good reason for not being here to welcome her home. They now lived ten minutes away and were protected by the naivety of youth. Her parents, on the other hand, had no excuse. Neither did Kevin, Emma, Noah, or Cassie. They were all in big trouble.
Returning to the front porch, Sam’s gaze wandered across the street. The lights were on at the Grantham’s and a breath of smoke hovered above the roofline. When Sam drew in a deep breath, the faint scent of a barbeque teased her stomach. Kevin was grilling something that smelled way better than pizza. Hopefully, they’d made extra.
Leaving her things in her car, Sam jogged across the street and walked through the gate on the side of the house that led to the backyard. She sniffed the air and smiled. Barbeque chicken—one of her favorites. A flurry of voices sounded, followed by the slam of the back door. Sam rounded the corner to find a smoking grill and an empty patio. She knocked on the door before poking her head inside.
“Emma? Kevin?”
Lights came on, and everyone shouted in attempted-unison. “Welcome home!”
Kevin and Emma juggled their almost one-year-old twins, Noah’s arm was slung around Cassie’s shoulders, and Adi and Kajsa shoved a balloon bouquet in Sam’s hands before throwing their arms around her waist. Over their heads, Sam’s father grinned and her mother shook her head with an expression of annoyed tolerance.
Sam’s smile returned. Now this was a proper welcome home.
“You were supposed to come in through the front door,” her mother said, gesturing behind her. “We had a sign and more balloons and everything ready to go. I should have known you’d follow your nose instead.”
Sam didn’t feel the least bit repentant. “I should have known you wouldn’t forget to throw me a welcome home party. You had me going for a few minutes.”
“Did you like the rotten tomatoes and moldy cheese?” said her mother. “I thought they were a nice touch.”
“They were. You had me thinking you’d gone on vacation without me.”
Everyone laughed and her father’s arms came around her. “That’s what you get for accepting a job in Manhattan. What kind of daughter moves across the country from her parents? It isn’t right, I tell you.”
“No, it isn’t.” Her mother moved to hug her next. “You’re lucky we planned a welcome home party at all. You don’t deserve it.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Sam said. “Think of all the fun we’ll have when you come to visit. Broadway shows, Times Square, the Empire State Building, hot dogs—”
“Maybe I won’t come,” said her mom.
“I will,” called out Emma.
“Me too,” added other voices.
Her mom glanced around the room. “You’re all a bunch of traitors. Just wait
until your kids grow up and decide to spread their wings. It isn’t nearly as exciting for the parents.”
Noah gave her mother a sympathetic pat on the back before drawing Sam into a warm embrace. “You’re going to take New York by storm, but we’re going to miss you around here.”
“I’ll miss everyone too,” Sam murmured into his shoulder. “But my job doesn’t start until the fall, and we have the entire summer to hang out before then. This summer is going to rock.”
As she hugged everyone else and kissed the little twins on their cheeks, some of Sam’s good mood faltered. After this summer, how long would it be before she saw these little ones again? How much older would they look? Would their eyes grow large with fear when she held her arms out to them? Would she lose her place at the top of Adi and Kajsa’s Favorite People list? Would her parents grow accustomed to her absence and not miss her? Would the Granthams and Mackies become distant friends instead of family?
Sam craved the opportunities that would come with this job. She looked forward to walking the streets of New York, taking in the sights, sounds, smells, meeting new people, having interesting experiences, and learning what life was like outside of Colorado. But would it come at the cost of everything good and wonderful in her life now?
“Why the glum look?” Emma asked as she passed Maxwell off to Sam. The sweet, not-so-little guy was almost a year old, with large, gray eyes, thick eyelashes, and the pudgiest fingers and thighs ever seen on a baby. His hair was coming in lighter than his parents, and his cherub cheeks were as kissable as cheeks got.
Stick in the Mud Meets Spontaneity (Meet Your Match, book 3) Page 1
