Never once had I questioned his judgment.
Bruce took a swing at me. We’d have it on video feed. Releasing him without charges was bullshit.
And so was my assignment to find Frank Branson.
Chapter 2
Kayden
* * *
The brumby caught me square in the ribs with her back hoof, and I hit the dirt hard enough to see white.
I lay there a moment. Face down. Dust in my teeth. Each breath ached in a way that told me nothing was broken, but I sure as shit was gonna bruise.
I rolled onto my back.
Sunrise was just bleeding into the eastern horizon, but the sky was still dark enough that the stars hadn’t given up yet. This was my favorite moment of the day, that thin crack between night and day when nature hadn’t decided what it wanted to be.
I turned my head toward the brumby. The wild horse had backed herself to the far side of the yard, head high, nostrils flared, every muscle wound as tight as fencing wire and watching me the way she always watched me—like she still hadn’t made up her mind about me.
Fair enough. I was still trying to figure myself out, too.
I spat the dirt off my lips and got up.
“Yeah, all right,” I said. “You got me. Again.”
She was rust-colored, stood fifteen hands high, and was built like she’d been carved straight out of the mountain range I’d found her in. Solid chest, short back, legs that could cover country most station horses would balk at. Her coat was rough and dull from years of running wild, but underneath it, she was pure muscle and untamed nerve. The kind of horse that made people shake their heads and say, Can’t be broken.
I hated that term. Why would you want to break a horse?
I didn’t want to break her. I wanted to ride her and feel that energy beneath me.
For three weeks, I’d been working her every morning in that dead-quiet hour before the sky cracked open and the heat started stacking up like a furnace. I’d haul myself out of the loft, pull on whatever clothing was closest, and ride Meteor for twenty minutes or so. Then I’d cycle back to the yard in the western paddock, where I’d cobbled together a corral from old rails and star pickets. Far enough from the house to avoid an audience. The last thing I needed was Mitch judging me or Cassidy laughing at me.
It was just me, this wild mare, and Meteor, standing at the rail like he remembered exactly what Cassidy had put him through when she’d trained him.
Meteor still had a wild streak. Every now and then, he liked to remind me who was really boss. Maybe this brumby was doing the same thing. Testing me. Working out my tipping point.
I still hadn’t named her. All our animals had cosmic names. Meteor, Apollo, Pluto. Hell, even the milking cows had them: Moonlight, Luna, Milky Way.
Whatever I chose for this brumby would need to match her fire. I just hadn’t figured it out yet.
Cassidy would’ve had this mare eating out of her hand by now. My sister had always had a way with animals that defied logic. She could walk into a paddock full of untamed colts, and they’d settle around her like she was their leader. It was a gift. I’d never told her that, but I’d thought it a thousand times.
I didn’t have the gift. What I had was stubbornness and a tolerance for getting hit.
I stepped back toward the center of the yard, keeping my hands low and my movements slow. The mare’s ears flicked forward. Her right front hoof stamped once.
I stopped. Waited. Let her study me.
“We’ve done this before,” I said, keeping my voice low and even. “You belt me. I get up. We go again. You’re gonna get bored with it before I do.”
She blew out through her nose, a long, slow exhale that dropped some of the tension from her neck. I took one step. Then another. She didn’t move. I raised my hand, palm flat, and held it about a foot from her muzzle. She stretched her neck forward, just a fraction. Her whiskers brushed my fingers.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just let her decide.
Her muzzle pressed into my palm. Warm and soft, still trembling, but there. She held it for maybe three seconds before pulling back and turning her hindquarters to me.
