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All true. But—
“Jim is great, but he’s not more experienced than me. He’s what? Two years older? He didn’t even start at the rodeo until he was fourteen, if I recall. And I know for sure he didn’t grow up on a horse farm like I did. He told me so.”
My hands were shaking. I clasped them together, pinching myself in the muscle between my index finger and thumb, a trick I learned a long time ago to keep tears at bay. An important skill, because the moment water leaked from my eyes was the moment Dad would stop listening.You can’t be reasonable and emotional at the same time, he was fond of saying. I disagreed, but I knew better than to argue.
“My record as a trainer these past six years is top notch. Three of the top ten reining horses in the country? I trained them. Lucky Thirteen, the world reserve champion? That was me. I’m not just good at what I do, Carl. I’m great. And there is no one, except maybe you, who loves Blue Skies more than me. I would dedicate my life to this farm if you would let me.”
Dad’s brows pushed together in a dark line across his forehead. “To be honest, James, I thought you’d be pleased. Of course I knew you wanted to be head trainer. The new position, suited to your particular skillset, seemed like the perfect solution.”
Solution. The word slid into my heart like a hot knife through butter. “I didn’t realize I was a problem,” I said softly.
“Now, James, listen to me. This isn’t personal. Make no mistake, I’ve seen how hard you work, and I’m impressed. Never think that I’m not. But head trainer is more than just training horses. It’s leading other trainers. It’s having a vision. It’s making tough choices.”
“I can do that,” I said. “I know I can. Jim Stanford hasn’t trained a single reining horse to make it in the top ten. He will, someday. He’s good. But not as good as me.”
“You don’t have what it takes,” Dad said flatly.
“You mean I don’t have a penis.” The words were out, dripping with disgust and disappointment, before I could bite my tongue.
Dad frowned. “Don’t be crass, James. It’s not ladylike.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze, letting him know without a word that his dodge of my accusation had not gone unnoticed. We stayed that way for a long moment, anger crackling between us like a live wire.
He blinked first. “Take the weekend to think it over. Cool off. Be ready to get to work on Monday.”
I shook my head. I didn’t need the weekend. “Thank you for your offer, but I must decline.”
“James, for god’s sake.” Dad rolled his eyes, exasperated. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too hotheaded to take the reins of our entire program. You’re making a decision in the heat of anger when you’re all emotional. Not being reasonable. Blue Skies is your home. Where are you going to go?”
Hotheaded. Emotional. It wasn’t the first time he had called me that. And maybe he was right, in a way. I definitely felt things, and I acted on those feelings. But just because I let emotions guide me didn’t make my decisions wrong.
“I don’t know.” Like that was going to stop me. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that someone will be thrilled to have me.”
If I wasn’t appreciated here, then it was time to go where I was.
Two
Adam
“Sellthebitch.”Blaine,a junior trainer here at Lodestar Ranch, smacked the dust from his ass, which he had been tossed on by Belle of the Ball. Not unceremoniously. There had been, in fact, a hell of a ceremony. Bucking and spins galore.
Blaine joined me at the fence. “I’m serious, Adam. She’s got the attitude of a stallion.” His eyes narrowed on the palomino, minding her own business on the other side of the pen. “If she were a stallion, at least we could lop her balls off.” He sounded downright bloodthirsty. “She’s unrideable.”
I grunted noncommittedly. “By you, maybe.”
“I don’t recall seeing anyone else stay on.”
“I have,” I said, earning a dubious side-eye from Blaine. “I’ve seen someone stay on,” I amended, because I sure as shit hadn’t even tried. I had a ten-year-old son, not a death wish.
My mom, though. She stayed on. I thought back to that day two years ago, her body frail from cancer, Mom bound and determined to have one ride on the filly she had hand raised herself. Belle had barely started her training at that point, but she didn’t kick up a fuss at all when my dad gently placed Mom on her back. Mom died a week later, and precious few people had managed to ride Belle since. Sometimes I thought she was heartbroken, like the rest of us.
Then I remembered she was a fucking horse.
“Couldn’t sell her even if I wanted to,” I said. “Not without a loss.”
Belle’s bloodlines were impeccable. Winners on both her sire’s side and her dam. That quality of sperm didn’t come cheap. Not to mention the thousands of dollars we had already spent on Belle’s care, feeding, and training. Dollars we no longer had to invest elsewhere. Dad had let a lot of things slide when Mom got sick, including the business. Belle was our best hope for putting Lodestar Ranch back in the game.
Fuck, she was ouronlyhope.
