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ChapterFive
Grant
It was about as nice as it could get for a Monday morning. June was always hot as hell, but the day started overcast and there was a nice, firm breeze of cool air that sent the pines dancing. I watched George in the paddock from my back porch, slowly bringing a mug of hot coffee to my lips as George cursed and spat like a demon at the stallion currently giving him his worst.
We’d been at it with the stallion since five in the damn morning, trying to break the beast down.
I’d finally given up and ran like hell to the side of the paddock, leaping over the railing while the horse barreled toward me. George had leapt right in, swinging himself onto the demon’s back and holding on for dear life as it bucked and tried to shake him off his back.
This wasn’t the first horse we’d broken, and it wouldn’t be the last, but this stallion was making me question everything I knew about horses, and whether it was even worth it.
I took another heavy sip of coffee, arching my brows as I watched the horse begin to trot, shaking his head in frustration as George beamed from his back.
“I’ll be damned,” I said, standing up and walking to the porch railing.
I hurried off the porch, careful not to spook the horse as I neared the paddock. George looked thrilled but was being cautious as he led the creature toward the gate leading back into the pasture.
“Whoa,” George commanded, and the horse stopped, snorting with surrender. George looked over his shoulder at me, his mouth stretched into a boyish grin.
“I didn’t think it could be done,” I said wryly as George clung to the paddock, swung his legs from the horse’s back, and wrenched open the gate. The horse whinnied, wagging his head back and forth as the gate swerved free. He darted to freedom, mane glistening in the splinters of sun sending ribbons of gold across the grassy pasture.
“He’ll need a lot more work, Grant,” George huffed, jumping down from the paddock and dusting off his jeans. “He’s been riling up the other horses in the pasture. He thinks he’s the king out there and has been bothering the fillies.”
“That’s not a bad name for him,” I mused, leaning on the railing while clutching my coffee. “King.”
“You’d just stroking his ego,” George argued, shaking his head as he wound a length of rope around his arm.
“I’ll work with him some more later,” I amended, kicking off the paddock. “I gotta meet with Moira soon. That’ll take up enough time to give that beast of a horse a break, don’t you think?”
George pondered this, toying with the rope before looking up at me through his lashes. “Did you run a background check on that girl?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.
I ran my tongue along my lower lip, narrowing my eyes on him. “Why?” I asked, noticing the unease in his stance.
“I’ve seen her out on the bunkhouse porch the last three nights, just sitting there, looking like she’s gonna murder anyone who even looks in its direction.”
“She’s got a kid, George.”
“Yeah, but something… She running from something?” George held my gaze, unblinking.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. I didn’t bring up the fact she’d asked about the cameras and the way her stance and expression had changed when I told her it was a 24/7 feed. “Even so, it’s none of my business. She’s a single mom, she’s got a son to worry about. Don’t tell me you didn’t give your mom hell as a kid, George. Lord knows I did.”
“I think this goes beyond her kid sneaking out of his bed at night to cause a ruckus.”
“Then what do you think her problem is?”
“I think someone threatened her or that boy and she’s running,” he said firmly, glancing up as Moira’s Jeep turned around the corner of the house and parked not far from the back porch. George met my eyes again, nodding. “You’re on thin ice with the EPA already, don’t add the townsfolk into the mix, Grant. They already have their opinions about a city-slicker taking over the property.”
I gave George a look, but he pursed his lips, shaking his head before adjusting his hat.
“You know what I mean, Grant.”
“Yeah,” I bit out, turning my attention to Moira as she stepped out of the Jeep, flicking her sunglasses to the top of her head as she inspected us both. “Mornin’.”
“For someone who owns one of the biggest ranches in the state, you sure do a lot of standing around.” She smirked, blowing a bubble with the gum she chewed.
She was dressed in a pair of jeans that hugged her hips as she walked over, her arms crossed over her white tank top. Her hair was wild, jagged red waves sticking out around her face while the rest was pulled up in a bun tied back by some huge plastic contraption that looked like a bear trap. Her blue eyes scanned George’s face, something passing between them for a fraction of a second before he tipped his hat and walked away.
“What’s his problem?” she asked, tucking her hands in her pockets.
