and watched them with big, prideful eyes.
In his corral alone, Hazard, the quarter horse stallion, paced and called to his harem.
The mares, pregnant and round-bellied, looked back with expressions ranging from boredom to disdain.
Hannah laughed as she called the broodmares into their stalls.
“Poor Hazard,” Ty said from behind her.
Hannah caught her breath and turned. He was standing in the doorway. He must be the most hot-blooded creature on earth, she thought, because he’d removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his chambray shirt. His wrists were broad and sprinkled with dark hair, his low-brimmed hat pushed back on his head.
“He doesn’t get much attention,” he continued, nodding toward the stallion as the mares rushed back to their stalls.
“Maybe the girls will show more interest after they drop their foals,” Hannah said, searching for conversation. His proximity did evil things to her blood pressure.
“Let’s hope so.” Ty slid the door shut behind a sorrel mare. “It’s gotta be hard on his ego. Talking dirty to ‘em every day like that and they don’t even prick up an ear.”
She shouldn’t enter this conversation and she knew it, but his voice was low and smoky, reeling her in. “Is that what he’s doing?” she asked. “Talking dirty?”
“Yeah.” There was a pause as the last door closed. “Want to know what he says?”
She turned to face him. Her breath stopped.
The barn was silent, but for horses munching.
“Sorry.” He pulled his gaze quickly away. “Sorry. I didn’t…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what I’m thinking sometimes.” Silence. “I was just wondering if you might want to go for a ride.”
“On a horse?”
She looked so surprised that he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess I’ve been working you pretty hard, huh?”
“Have you?” she asked, and smiled. “I didn’t notice.”
“I suppose you always work like this,” he said.
“Me. No. Just when I’m on vacation.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
He leaned against Tuff Tina’s stall and bent one knee to rest the bottom of his boot on the plank behind him.
“So you on vacation now?” he asked.
“You might say that.”
It was foolish, he knew, but for a moment it almost seemed she was serious. He tried to keep his head. “So would a ride ruin your sabbatical?”
“No.” She shook her head. “A ride would be nice.”
Behind the barn were the unpampered horses. They were also some of The Lone Oak’s best stock. Skippa Lula, the palomino mare Nate used for roping, was the most dependable.
Ty slipped a halter over her head and handed the lead rope to Hannah. Then he haltered the chestnut he’d used for heeling for the past five years.
Back inside the barn, Ty tied Rowdy near a stall and motioned Hannah down the aisle a ways.
“Cross ties are there,” he said. He watched as she moved forward and quickly snapped a rope into each side of Lula’s halter. Whatever Hannah Nelson was or wasn’t, she knew horses.
Inside the tack room, he lifted a chocolate-colored saddle from a rack. “This all right for you?” he asked. “It’s the smallest I’ve got.”
“Ahh…” She looked baffled for a moment, then said, “Sure. That’s fine.”
“Okay. Grab that blanket and the hackamore hanging there,” he said, and moved back into the aisle.
Hannah placed the blanket on the mare’s back without prompting. Ty sat the saddle atop it.
“Can you cinch up while I see to Rowdy?”
She blinked at him. She’d shed her overalls for a goose-down jacket that Howard had left behind. It was faded, out of date, ripped on one sleeve and generally ugly. Funny how she still looked like a princess in it. Even the tattered, tweed cap he’d offered her, made her look adorable, like royalty incognito, with soft hair and fire in her eyes.
“Sure,” she said finally. “I can, uh…cinch up.”
“Okay.” His own roping saddle was high pommeled. Over the years
In his corral alone, Hazard, the quarter horse stallion, paced and called to his harem.
The mares, pregnant and round-bellied, looked back with expressions ranging from boredom to disdain.
Hannah laughed as she called the broodmares into their stalls.
“Poor Hazard,” Ty said from behind her.
Hannah caught her breath and turned. He was standing in the doorway. He must be the most hot-blooded creature on earth, she thought, because he’d removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his chambray shirt. His wrists were broad and sprinkled with dark hair, his low-brimmed hat pushed back on his head.
“He doesn’t get much attention,” he continued, nodding toward the stallion as the mares rushed back to their stalls.
“Maybe the girls will show more interest after they drop their foals,” Hannah said, searching for conversation. His proximity did evil things to her blood pressure.
“Let’s hope so.” Ty slid the door shut behind a sorrel mare. “It’s gotta be hard on his ego. Talking dirty to ‘em every day like that and they don’t even prick up an ear.”
She shouldn’t enter this conversation and she knew it, but his voice was low and smoky, reeling her in. “Is that what he’s doing?” she asked. “Talking dirty?”
“Yeah.” There was a pause as the last door closed. “Want to know what he says?”
She turned to face him. Her breath stopped.
The barn was silent, but for horses munching.
“Sorry.” He pulled his gaze quickly away. “Sorry. I didn’t…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what I’m thinking sometimes.” Silence. “I was just wondering if you might want to go for a ride.”
“On a horse?”
She looked so surprised that he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess I’ve been working you pretty hard, huh?”
“Have you?” she asked, and smiled. “I didn’t notice.”
“I suppose you always work like this,” he said.
“Me. No. Just when I’m on vacation.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
He leaned against Tuff Tina’s stall and bent one knee to rest the bottom of his boot on the plank behind him.
“So you on vacation now?” he asked.
“You might say that.”
It was foolish, he knew, but for a moment it almost seemed she was serious. He tried to keep his head. “So would a ride ruin your sabbatical?”
“No.” She shook her head. “A ride would be nice.”
Behind the barn were the unpampered horses. They were also some of The Lone Oak’s best stock. Skippa Lula, the palomino mare Nate used for roping, was the most dependable.
Ty slipped a halter over her head and handed the lead rope to Hannah. Then he haltered the chestnut he’d used for heeling for the past five years.
Back inside the barn, Ty tied Rowdy near a stall and motioned Hannah down the aisle a ways.
“Cross ties are there,” he said. He watched as she moved forward and quickly snapped a rope into each side of Lula’s halter. Whatever Hannah Nelson was or wasn’t, she knew horses.
Inside the tack room, he lifted a chocolate-colored saddle from a rack. “This all right for you?” he asked. “It’s the smallest I’ve got.”
“Ahh…” She looked baffled for a moment, then said, “Sure. That’s fine.”
“Okay. Grab that blanket and the hackamore hanging there,” he said, and moved back into the aisle.
Hannah placed the blanket on the mare’s back without prompting. Ty sat the saddle atop it.
“Can you cinch up while I see to Rowdy?”
She blinked at him. She’d shed her overalls for a goose-down jacket that Howard had left behind. It was faded, out of date, ripped on one sleeve and generally ugly. Funny how she still looked like a princess in it. Even the tattered, tweed cap he’d offered her, made her look adorable, like royalty incognito, with soft hair and fire in her eyes.
“Sure,” she said finally. “I can, uh…cinch up.”
“Okay.” His own roping saddle was high pommeled. Over the years
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