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Kids were goingto die on these horses. And it would be all his fault.
The mare beneath Grayson Fox let out a grunt. Dust rose from the Trinity Horse Camp corral, a flurry of hooves, bucks, and squeals slicing through Minnesota’s North Shore and its late May heat wave.
“I asked you to bring me camp horses.” The deep voice rumbled across the din. Grayson’s audience of one, camp director Noah Standing Bear, stood outside the corral, a grim press to his lips. That hurt more than the whiplash his body was taking.
Grayson’s torso snapped forward and back with each jump and kick of the buckskin mare. He rode it out, mad at himself for hopping on without doing the proper groundwork.
He’d known it didn’t bode well when he’d set the saddle on her. The ears pinned back. The muscles flinchy. Her feet had danced, and her black tail had swished back and forth.
But he’d kept pushing through and swung into the stirrups.
Please, Lord, please answer this one prayer.
Another buck nearly dislodged him.
Nope. Maybe God still wasn’t listening.
Grayson looked past the weathered top rail, beyond the arena, to where several cross-fenced paddocks held the camp horses in knee-high grass. Deep, three-sided run-in sheds provided shade and shelter from the elements. It would have been a pastoral view if not for the unhappy mount beneath him.
He urged the mare forward on loose reins. The bucks had turned to crow hops after a few more NFR-worthy launches into the air. She slowed with fatigue and moved around the pen, first at a broken lope, then slowing to a jog and walk.
Her nostrils flared with puffs of breath, and her golden sides heaved.
Poor girl. He wasn’t the kind of horseman who’d put an animal into this position—that’s exactly why Oregon’s Three Sisters Ranch had hired him nearly twelve years ago.
Good thing those clients couldn’t see him now.
He waited for her to settle, then rubbed her quivering shoulder. Watched her eyes, her face. The softening—a little give.
Noah stood, a silent, incredulous six-foot-three wall.
Grayson dismounted, swift and quiet, glad to have his feet,andthe buckskin’s, all on the ground. The smell of horse and sweat and leather permeated the stifling heat of the day.
He lifted his Stetson, wiped his sleeve across his brow, and resettled his hat.
The mare’s entire body balled up again, ready for another round of bucking, but she remained standing, tight and tense. “Easy, girl. I’m sorry. How about we take that tack off for today, huh?” He waited for her head to lower and the press of her lips to release before loosening the latigo hitch on the cinch.
She pinned her ears.
“You’re okay, Tally.” Tally. Aptly named—probably for the number of riders she’d dislodged, unseated, and dumped. He slid the saddle and pad off, pulling them away when the mare grunted and kicked out.
His chest constricted, the burden of his actions pressing in. He knew better. Horses were his life. All he’d wanted was to return to Deep Haven with an offering. Something good for the camp that had changed his life after his parents’ deaths. A way to be helpful.
Well, he could handle this. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to dig in and get things done.
He braced the cantle on his hip and let out the lead line until he reached the corral side, then hoisted the saddle over the panel.
When he turned back to the mare, her ears moved back and forth, listening. She was stocky, with powerful muscling that had coiled and burst beneath him. Far too many times. A few scratches and old scars marred her forelegs and rump. Unnatural white patches of hair marked her withers where ill-fitted saddles had chafed.
Her legs trembled when he drew the line back in. “Easy,” he said, hoping the encouragement would keep her still. He removed the bridle, glad he’d left the halter on underneath, and slung it over his shoulder, then untied the throatlatch knot and slid the rope halter off.
Tally threw her head back, the whites of her eyes bright against her gold coat. She turned, bolted to the far side of the corral, and nickered to the two other horses he’d bought with her.
They answered from the small paddock nearby. She drew in another breath and let out a poignant holler that shook her whole body.
He tried to rub away the pressure in his chest with his palm. So much for his demo ride. Even though Noah had arranged the buy, Grayson should have checked them out before he’d loaded them up.
