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“Shh, now,” she heard him say, his hands holding the catch rope lightly. “You can let your guard down. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
She listened to him soothe the horse. “Come on, now, let’s be friends. Let ol’ Bullet take care of you.”
It was the tone of voice one might use with a lover. It was slow and sultry, reinforcing the care he’d give, the time he’d take. Tristan leaned up against the fence and closed her eyes. He coaxed and cajoled. Sweetly.
“Come on, now, darlin’. That’s a girl.”
He was working with a filly? Surprising. Geldings typically made better broncs. Maybe this was just a spirited horse, not one they intended to take out to rodeos.
Tristan climbed up on the fence and watched as Bullet continued to soothe the horse, murmuring to her as he took the lead and walked her around the arena.
“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
Tristan hadn’t realized he knew she was there.
“She sure is.” The palomino Paint didn’t look to be much over two years old, and about fifteen hands.
“You takin’ her out?”
“Not yet. Not sure they ever will.”
“What’s her name?”
“Holbrook.”
Tristan grinned. How did he know the name of her hometown? “Oh yeah? You playin’ with me, cowboy?”
When Bullet smiled, she almost fell off the fence. It had been a while since he’d directed one at her. The blue eyes, which had been so frosty, warmed again when he winked at her.
He dropped the lead and walked over to where she sat.
“I’d like to be friends again,” she said before he could say anything.
“Friends huh? I didn’t realize that’s what we were.”
Tristan’s cheeks flushed. “I’d like to be.”
“All right. We can be friends. If that’s what you’d like,” he drawled. As he got closer, she could see his dimples.
God, he was dangerous. He knew just what to say, and how to say it. If she were a little younger, and a lot dumber, he could talk her into just about anything. He put his hand on her knee.
“I’m sorry I ran out of the house so quick. I’m runnin’ low on sleep and high on anxiety these days.” The devastating smile didn’t leave his face. He squeezed her knee. “Forgive me?”
“Bullet…I…” What was she trying to say? She couldn’t think with him caressing her knee.
“Come on, now, darlin’. Say you’ll forgive me.” He was using the same tone of voice with her that he’d used with the filly. And it was working just as well on her as it had with the horse.
She brushed his hand away. “There isn’t anything to forgive. I was the one who insulted you. You still haven’t accepted my apology.”
Bullet leaned in closer, so his body rested up against her leg, his hand came back to rub her knee. “I haven’t? Well, now.” His hand stopped moving, and he looked up at her face. “Tristan, I accept your apology.”
1965
It had been four years since he first set foot on what was now called the Double-P-Bar Ranch. The name had changed soon after he arrived with Clancy, since there were now two Pattersons at the helm. It had also been four years since he’d seen his mama.
When Clancy offered to take him to Colorado Springs to see her, Bill didn’t hesitate to take him up on it. He missed her so much. And his sister. There was something important his mama wanted to tell him, that’s what Clancy had said. Bill hoped it wasn’t more bad news. His family had had more than their fair share of strife in the last five years.
It took them seven hours to make the drive. The weather over Loveland Pass was rough, which made Bill worry more. If Clancy was making this drive in the middle of winter, his mother’s news must be mighty important.
