“I’ll do my best.”
“Hell, Seth, that’s all you ever do. Later.” Cull strode out, his bootheels clicking on the floor.
Left alone, Seth made his way to the arena. He paused at the gate, sunlight, from the high windows, glinting off the metal rails. He walked to the rail, planted one boot against the bottom bar, folded his arms on the top one, and watched the horsecircle the ring. The wind caught her mane, tossing ebony strands across her neck like a banner. When she spotted him, she picked up the pace, trotting to him, until her muzzle pressed against his arm. He reached over and rubbed the soft curve of her cheek.
“You and I are going to have a problem if you don’t start doing what I’m trying to teach you,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. The young filly nickered, bobbing her head as if she understood, and Seth, for the first time, felt a spark of hope.
Retrieving his phone from the pocket of his dusty jeans, Seth called one of the ranch hands.
“Ringo? Send some guys to the arena. I need more ground cover. “
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Seth slid the phone back into his pocket, then leaned against the rail, watching the filly as she galloped in spirited circles, her muscles rippling beneath her gleaming coat, hooves pounding the earth with each graceful step.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of work today, girl. I just need to make the ground softer for those pretty legs of yours.”
He chuckled when the horse skidded to a halt in the middle of the arena, tossing her silky mane and shaking her head with an indignant snort.
“Yeah, if I didn’t know you were female before, I do now. Stubborn as they come.” Seth slipped through the rails and slowly walked toward the horse. The filly’s ears pricked forward as he approached, her liquid brown eyes watching him warily. The ranch hands arrived with two dozers heaped with the reddish-brown mixture of clay and sand. Seth led the horse out as the earthy scent rose as they spread and raked it across the arena floor in smooth, even strokes.
Seth ran his hand along the filly’s warm neck, feeling her pulse beneath his fingertips as he led her to the stall.
The perfect arena surface was an art form, soft enough to cushion the impact when those powerful hooves dug in, yet firm enough to give the horse grip when she pivoted on her haunches. The clay would pack down to create a stable foundation, while still allowing just enough give to prevent jarring her delicate joints during those lightning-fast directional changes that cutting horses were known for.
He smiled as the filly nuzzled his shoulder, a far cry from the wild-eyed creature that had bolted from his touch just days ago. Her trust was still as fragile as morning frost but growing stronger with each passing day.
Chapter Three
Thursday morning, Ryan perched precariously on the top rail of the corral fence, the sun beating down through the high barn windows made her smile. In front of her, Micky struggled with a restless horse whose flaring nostrils blew great puffs in the cold air. The animal’s coat gleamed under the morning light as it reared and bucked, trying to fling him clear. Ryan’s pulse thundered in her ears, her stomach felt as though it might leap out of her throat, but she couldn’t stop herself from rooting him on.
She laughed when Micky’s jaw clenched in fierce concentration, the reins cutting into his gloved hands. In the next instant, the horse whirled, and Micky soared off its back like a rag doll, landing on the ground with a resonant thud. A collective groan rose from the ranch hands in their dust-flecked denim, their faces pinched in sympathy. Micky lay still for a heartbeat, then shook the straw from his jeans and climbed shakily to his feet, toweling sweat from his brow before striding back to the horse as if nothing had happened.
“What is that on the floor? It doesn’t look like it hurts Micky too much when he lands.”
“It’s called stone dust. It compacts and drains effectively, creating a firm, stable base. But it can become as hard as concrete and very dusty if not kept consistently damp. Adequate bedding is necessary for cushioning. Seth makes sure it’s kept the way it’s supposed to be,” Cull said.
Ryan grinned at Micky’s stubborn resilience, but all heads turned to the direction of the barn doors. A low rumble of hoofbeats on the cement floor announced Seth’s arrival long before she saw him. He came roaring down the dusty aisle on his horse, the animal’s hooves churning up dirt like miniature dustdevils. When he dismounted, his boots hit the ground with the authority of a judge’s gavel.
“He does not look happy,” Ryan muttered under her breath.
“Oh, he’s not,” Cull replied with a chuckle, shaking his head.
Seth paused a few feet from the corral, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun. He scanned each man leaning lazily against the rails, then fixed Ryan with a hard stare, moss green eyes sharp enough to cut through steel.
“This is the second time you’ve been hanging out in here instead of out in the fields,” he snapped, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not here to flirt with the staff.”
Ryan’s chest tightened; she opened her mouth, but her words were snatched away by his glare, then he looked at the men.
“Get out of here and get busy. Micky, and Spurs are actually working, and the rest of you are twiddling your thumbs. Do you want to be nothing but dead weight at another ranch?”
“No, sir,” the men muttered.
“Then get to work. Red, get this barn swept up.”
“Yes, sir,” Red said as he ducked into a room.
“That was a little harsh, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked.
