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She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to wrap this up because I’m hungry, but I do want to thank you for sending me here.” Her tone had softened, lowering almost to a whisper. “Thank you for letting me stay here. Thank you for letting me work with Another Round. And thank you for everyone at this table. Thank you for letting me not be alone this Christmas. Because even though we didn’t win the race, I still had fun on the ride there and in the hotel. And the best part . . . the best part that I want to thank you for is that I got to come back to Lone Oaks Crossing. Coming back here tonight, felt . . . like, well, like coming home. Amen.”
Jo’s vision blurred and she blinked hard as she raised her head and looked around the table. Everyone was silent. Frankie was wiping her eyes, Lee and Brooks had a contemplative look on their faces, Nancy smiled at Cheyenne, and Earl had wrapped his arm around Cheyenne’s shoulders and hugged her close, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Well . . .” Jo cleared her throat, realizing that the loss on the racetrack was nothing compared to the heartfelt gratitude in Cheyenne’s voice as she’d prayed. As far as Jo was concerned, despite their huge loss in New Orleans, Cheyenne had just given them the best win. “Amen.”
CHAPTER 12
“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
Brooks glanced at Cheyenne, who stood beside him on the back deck of Lone Oaks Crossing’s main house. Her eyes, wide and fascinated, were fixed on Another Round, whom Lee was breezing along the track around the pasture.
Another Round was a sight to behold, for sure, as he galloped across the dirt, his lush mane and tail rippling behind him as he surged ahead. The crisp air of winter had given way to spring at Lone Oaks Crossing, and every inch of the rolling acres was a healthy green, the oak trees bordering the property full of broad leaves that danced in a gentle breeze. And it seemed the soothing late-March air filled Another Round’s lungs and spirit with a hefty dose of enthusiasm.
The colt picked up even more speed, stretching his legs, galloping freely and powerfully across the serene landscape without any additional encouragement from Lee who, judging from the smile on his face, was clearly enjoying the ride.
“I’ve never seen a horse as perfect or happy as he is.” Smiling, Cheyenne looked up at him. “Don’t you think he’s happy?”
Brooks stared down at her, the joy in her bright eyes bringing a smile to his own lips. “Yeah. I’d say he’s happy.”
Although he couldn’t say Another Round was perfect.
Brooks watched his thoroughbred gallop along the track, a relaxed ease in the horse’s muscular movements that Brooks only saw here, never on the racetrack.
After placing a disappointing last in the Gun Runner Stakes in December, Another Round had delivered an equally disappointing performance at the Rebel Stakes in February and another at the Tampa Bay Derby two weeks ago. Though his times had improved, he’d finished last in both races. Each time, he’d taken off from the starting gate with his competitors, but there had been a visible tension in his gait and a hesitant air about him that eventually led to his holding back, then surging forward, only to quickly fall back again to place dead last.
Brooks didn’t expect perfection, but he’d been so sure that Another Round would deliver. He’d thought from the moment Another Round was born that the thoroughbred was different, special even. His hopes for Another Round had been high. So high that the thoroughbred’s disappointing performances hurt all the more.
But Another Round had delivered in a different way. Cheyenne, for one, seemed to have found her calling in life, having developed a strong bond with the thoroughbred. In the months since the Gun Runner race, Cheyenne had bounced back from her disappointment at Another Round’s loss. She’d jumped back into her duties as the colt’s groom with enthusiasm, complimenting the thoroughbred despite his shortcomings and eagerly consoling him upon his return after each race, stroking his neck, kissing his shoulder, and hugging him close, all the while assuring him that she couldn’t be more proud of his performance on the track.
That had surprised Brooks. Cheyenne had been so disappointed with Another Round’s performance in his first race that he’d thought she’d become increasingly downtrodden with each of his subsequent losses. Instead, she seemed to have shaken off the disappointment of not winning and embraced the joy of spending time with Another Round.
“Jo said this is his last workout for today,” Cheyenne said. “She said after I help cool him down and get him settled back in his stall, she’ll let me help her strategize for the Jeff Ruby.” She tilted her head, a confused expression appearing. “I looked it up online. Why do they call it the Jeff Ruby Steaks rather than stakes?”
Brooks grinned. “It’s a homophone. The sponsor of the race owns restaurants with the same name so it’s a play on words and a nod to the sponsor. I’m glad Jo is including you in the preparation process for the race, but I can’t help wondering if you’re keeping up with your classes, too?”
“Of course.” Cheyenne made a face as though offended. “Jo won’t let me near Another Round if my grades drop. I’ve got an A in everything right now and even made the distinguished honor roll.” She lifted her chin, a self-satisfied gleam in her eye. “What do you think of that?”
Brooks chuckled and ruffled her hair with his hand. “I think you’ll do, kid.”
He couldn’t help but smile wider at the beaming look of pride on Cheyenne’s face. The kid had worked hard in every area of her life over the past six months. She’d grown in patience, maturity, and dedication, eagerly adhering to all of Jo’s, Frankie’s, and Earl’s instructions in regard to caring for Another Round as well as completing her studies. Clearly, Cheyenne was happy at Lone Oaks Crossing, though Brooks hadn’t anticipated anything different.
He recalled her prayer at their makeshift Christmas dinner three months ago. For that brief moment of time, her tough façade had been set aside in exchange for raw honesty and gratitude. He’d known Jo and Lone Oaks Crossing had a lot to offer Cheyenne, but he hadn’t anticipated what it would mean to her to have others around who cared about her, pushed her to be a better version of herself, and praised her for following through with her commitments.
What was it she had said about their trip back from New Orleans?
Coming back . . . felt like coming home.
Brooks had to admit he’d felt the same. His gaze wandered farther out, seeking Jo’s familiar form in the distance. She stood with Frankie at the white fence of the pasture, watching as Lee and Another Round galloped past. Shielding her eyes against the sharp rays of the morning sun, she smiled, her soft mouth moving as she called something out to Lee, then laughed with Frankie.
A sensation Brooks had grown accustomed to over the past few months flooded him yet again. A pleasurable mixture of desire, need, and admiration. He longed to stride across the grounds, tug her close, and hold her tight forever, safe and protected in his arms.
He’d fallen in love.
The realization, though welcome, still disconcerted him. It had become increasingly difficult over the past weeks to focus on Another Round and his own plans to qualify for the Derby rather than his urgent desire to redirect his time to Jo. Lately, he’d found himself longing to simply sit on the back deck of the main house with Cheyenne, much as he did now, and enjoy the serene sights and sounds of Lone Oaks Crossing.
The truth was, he’d fallen in love with the farm as well. Lone Oaks Crossing had begun to feel like home.
“You like her, don’t you?”
