Four
The following morning, Eli’s breath fogged in the chilled air of the arena as he guided the colt through a precise pattern. He’d worked for Jaxon’s father every summer growing up, training horses and working the ranch. He’d moved briefly to Seattle, opening up a carpentry business, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d come home to Timber Falls briefly before following his dream to compete as a bull rider on the rodeo circuit. Only that dream never happened, his sister’s murder did. His only regret was that he hadn’t stayed in Timber Falls when he’d returned from Seattle.
He should have stayed. For Miranda.
The colt’s sleek black coat gleamed under the dim overhead lights, its breath matching Eli’s in visible puffs. Due to the winter’s bite that seeped through the walls, Eli was wrapped in layers—a heavy jacket hugging his shoulders, and thick deer hide gloves.
Across the arena, Jaxon and Gunner were lost in their own rhythms with their horses. At any given moment, they each had at least six young horses in training. After being weaned, some of the horses were sold while others remained for in-house training. All three of the men had been taught everything they knew by Jaxon’s father. He had established a strong reputation for breeding top-notch quarter horses, and Jaxon was carrying on the tradition after his father’s passing. Eli felt honored to be a part of such a legacy. His bull riding dreams a faint memory now.
The creak of the gate cut through the muffled thumps of hooves on the sandy floor, drawing Eli’s gaze. Charly stepped inside, her presence a warm contrast to the cold. Her brunette hair was tucked beneath a woolen cap.
“Hey guys,” she called out, her voice carrying across the arena. “Mind if we chat for a quick second?”
Eli slowed his horse to a walk, heading in her direction.
Jaxon trotted over, dismounting with ease, wrapping an arm around Charly and giving her a proper kiss. “What’s up?” he asked.
Charly glanced at Eli and Gunner before speaking, her brow furrowed. “I wondered if you’d heard anything yet about the comment about Willow,” she said.
Eli’s heart lurched at the mention of Willow’s name. He nudged the colt toward her, needing to hear more. “What comment?” he asked.
Charly’s concerned gaze met his. “Someone made a nasty post about her on the bar’s social media.”
“Saying what?” Eli pressed.
“That she’s a liar and making up stories about abuse,” Charly continued, her words like ice shards in Eli’s chest.
“Damn that’s harsh,” Gunner muttered, resting his arm on the horn of the saddle. His usual sly grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a scowl that mirrored Eli’s sudden fury.
“They’re accusing her of being a liar?” Eli’s voice was a low growl, the reins tight in his grip. That was a venomous lie aimed at someone who’d already endured too much pain—he could feel his stomach knotting in response.
“Yeah.” Charly gave a soft nod and then slowly shook her head. “I have no idea why anyone would post that, but I definitely want to be one step ahead of this. I don’t want it to get worse.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Jaxon said, tugging her closer. “I hadn’t a chance to ask Eli or Gunner yet, but I asked some of the cowboys earlier. No one has heard a bad thing about Willow.”
“Okay,” Charly said, nibbling her lip. She glanced from Eli to Gunner. “You’ll ask around too?”
“Of course,” Eli replied, and he meant it. “Is Willow okay?”
Charly’s eyes softened in the way they always did when she talked about Willow. The love that she and Aubrey had for Willow was a living, breathing, beautiful thing. “Truthfully, not really.”
Eli’s jaw set.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Jaxon promised.
“I’ll call if I hear anything,” Charly said, and then with a final kiss to Jaxon, she left the arena.
Eli’s mind raced. The urge to hunt the prick that hurt Willow burned in his gut. “Willow doesn’t deserve this,” he said, more to himself than to his friends, his body rigid atop the horse that now sensed his disquiet and began backing up.
Jaxon answered anyway, “No, she doesn’t.”
Eli’s hand tightened around the leather reins, and the colt threw up his head. “Damn it,” he growled under his breath, dismounting the colt so as not to feed the horse his tension. “We can’t let that kind of poison spread.”
Jaxon nodding solemnly, while Gunner removed his tan-colored cowboy hat and brushed a hand through his tousled hair, his expression grim. “Nobody’s going to believe that crap. Willow’s a good one. Everyone knows that.”
“Reputation’s a fragile thing in a town like Timber Falls,” Eli responded. “It ain’t just about her safety. It’s what people believe. Lies like these—they fester, poison everything.” He pulled the reins over the colt’s head. “Besides,” he continued, “this isn’t just some petty online jab. Willow’s been through hell and back. She’s building something good, something real for people.” His jaw tightened as he thought of Willow’s unwavering strength, her resilience. “How fucking dare someone try and hurt her and this group.”
“Agreed,” Gunner added, his voice a low growl.
