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Prologue
Reese
Five years ago
I had not a clue what I was thinking. I was supposed to be making smart business decisions, not impulsive ones. The thought circled in my mind as I backed up the trailer. I had driven over five hundred miles to pick up a grade horse that had no pedigree, no formal training, and no business being on my ranch. My goal was to build a world class training facility for high class performance horses. I was well on my way to making that a reality. So what was it about the online ad that had me driving across the state to pick up a horse?
Fuck if I knew.
But here I was. Sure, it was nice to take the trip in silence. I had driven straight through the day before, then stayed the night at a hotel. Today I’d be taking my trailer to the home that I would be picking up the horse from. Then straight home after that. Normally when I purchased horses, they were from superior bloodlines and they were young animals. Or they were born right at my farm, from a dame and stud I’d handpicked. More often than not, I simply just kept the horses that were bred on my ranch and raised them up the way that I liked. But this horse was a ten year old Kiger Mustang—which was great, but I didn’t raise Mustangs.
I hadn’t even told my family or staff the whole truth about where I was going. I didn’t need them talking me out of this. Or maybe I did, but I wasn’t ready for it. Something about the ad had called to me so here I was.
I pulled into the drive to find a massive house, more like a mansion really, and an impeccable barn with a riding arena. Someone had once enjoyed horses here. There was a for sale sign in the yard with a sold placard on it. The realtor was the kind that catered to the rich and fancy types.
Had the owners got tired of their horses and shipped them off? Well, I couldn’t complain too much if I was simply rescuing a horse that would normally be tossed aside, even if it was an expensive trip for me to make for a horse that wouldn’t make me any money.
The white stone of the drive crunched under my dirty boots. A man wearing a three piece suit exited the house and made his way over to me. He shook my hand and sent me a fake smile.
“Thanks for coming out this way. We’ve got the horse in her stall. We can get her loaded up for you and be on your way.”
Good. I didn’t have use for small talk, and I doubted I would have anything in common with the owners of this place. I suspected this man wasn’t the owner, probably just a lawyer or assistant or something, meant to stay behind and clean up loose ends.
“Sure thing,” I said. I appreciated that I wouldn’t have to linger around with any small talk. This place definitely didn’t give off the welcoming vibe, and I wasn’t looking to make new friends today anyway.
The horse was exactly as advertised. Though she seemed a bit skittish. She was a deep sorrel, with a patch of white on her back right leg. A bright white star was on her forehead, barely visibly under her thick forelock. I brushed her mane aside so I could see the freezebrand on her neck. Those were on every Mustang captured by the Bureau of Land Management. Hers matched the paperwork provided to me.
She danced around and pawed at the dirt while I looked her over.
“She’s probably just nervous with all the moving vehicles we’ve had in and out of here the last few days,” the man said with a chuckle.
I could tell by the way he handled her lead that he was not a typical horse person. Was he even the owner of this house? Did I care? No.
She would calm down soon enough once I got her home. The tension around here was thick in the air, and she likely sensed it. I gave her a gentle pat on her neck and pulled her into the trailer. Though it took some doing to finally get her in there. A lot of coaxing and a ton of patience.
I spent nearly twenty minutes just standing with her outside the open doors of the trailer. She wouldn’t move an inch and she kept looking toward the house.
“You want me to grab the whip? I thought I saw one out there in the tack room,” the man asked.
I cringed at the thought. “Nope. Just give me a minute.”
“Is this going to take much longer? Mrs. Kensey isn’t going to like the driveway blocked up like this.”
“It’ll take how long it takes.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Apparently the niceties were a front, and now I was irritating the man.
I didn’t care.
I shot him a glare. Something in my look must have told him to back down. It didn’t take much.
I got the horse into the trailer and closed it up. The faster I was on the road, the better.
“Much obliged,” I said to the man, but only out of politeness. This horse needed out of this environment.
Just as I rounded the corner to double check the locks on the trailer, the door to the house burst open and a young man, who couldn’t be much older than eighteen, ran out. “No! Stop!” he screamed.
A woman followed behind him and gripped his arm. “Perry, you get back in this house right now, or so help me God I will call the vet and have that horse put down faster than you can blink.”
