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“Landon Hewitt, you sneaky son of a bitch. Is she single?”
For a split second, my concentration broke. I frowned at Beau.
“Didn’t ask.”
I wish I did.
A wry, boyish grin spread across Beau’s features.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You like the McClaren girl. Not many women catch your eye. She must be pretty as a picture to turn your head.”
She’ll take your breath away.
I grumbled and hid behind the brim of my hat again.
A horse’s whinny split the air. When I glanced up, Hera and Tennyson came galloping along the fence line. With theirnostrils flared and sweat slicking their coats, they’d clearly worked themselves hard in this heat.
There was no sign of Callie in sight though. Tennyson’s reins dangled limply around his legs.
Without thinking, I dropped my tools and ducked under the fence. I moved into the horses’ path with my arms held out.
“Whoa! Easy, take it easy.”
Hera and Tennyson snorted as they slowed to a stop. Their breathing was ragged and harsh. Hera bumped against me like a big puppy and hooked her neck over my shoulder. Tennyson remained at arm’s length, but he didn’t shy away when I gathered the reins so he wouldn’t trip over them.
I looked toward the trees again.
Still no Callie.
When a horse returned without its rider, that could mean trouble. Was she out there somewhere, hurt?
As if reading my thoughts, Beau came to the fence line, his gaze searching the trees, too.
“Get your truck,” I said. “I’ll tie the horses up.”
He nodded and started to move. Hera huffed against my ear at my lack of treats.
“We have to stop crossing paths like this, sweetheart,” I said, speaking softly to soothe her. “You’re a lovely lady, but you can’t go around ditching your owner whenever you get the chance.”
Hera bumped her head against my chest as if she disagreed with that statement. I tugged at Tennyson’s reins while I kept my free hand under Hera’s chin. They followed me to the nearest fence post without trouble.
Beau pulled up alongside the fence in his truck. He’d grabbed his shirt, even though it was still unbuttoned. Then he tossed me a length of rope. I hooked it around Hera’s neck and tied her to the post, too.
“Landon, look there,” Beau said.
He lifted his chin toward the trees. I turned to see a figure trudging through the high grass.
My heart stutter-skipped. I released a low breath of relief. Callie was okay. Maybe a little worse for wear, judging by the mud streaked across her face and chest, but she was standing on her own two feet.
Beau cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Hello, wayward traveler! We have your runaway horses if you’d like to come collect them.”
Callie paused, listening. Then she broke into a jog.
I scrubbed at the back of my neck as a sudden bout of self-consciousness came over me. In a few minutes, I would be speaking to Callie again. If I was smart, I would use it as my second chance for a better impression. Knowing me, I would just dig my grave even deeper and stick my foot in my mouth.
As Callie approached, I noticed a few red scratches that marked her face and arms. They weren’t deep enough to leave a scar, but the fact that she was bleeding still sent a spike of something jagged through my chest.
