Page 20 of Since Day One

“For you, ‘course I got a second.” Gunnar nodded his head in approval, and Bill grinned.

“Thank you, my friend. I’ll be right back.” Bill tipped his hat and hustled out of the arena. Gunnar walked the horse he was riding a lap and then dismounted, led her out of the arena, and tied her up before loosening the cinch. His face pulled tight in curiosity as he leaned against the rail waiting.

I jumped up and bounded down the bleachers. He lifted a brow in my direction as I hoisted myself up on the top rail beside him.

“My answer is still no,” he quickly said as I opened my mouth to speak. Closing it, I pursed my lips and clicked my tongue.

“I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“I was just going to ask who Bill is.”

Gunnar shook his head with a soft chuckle. “One of the guys who my dad used to make bets with growing up. Until Bill started to lose all the time once I took over the training for the horses. Anyway, he’s an amazing breeder when it comes to selecting the stud and mare for futurity lines. Half the time I purchase colts and fillies from him because it’s less of a gamble when it comes to my training.” Gunnar paused as the garage door began to rattle open.

“Anyway, last year his wife was diagnosed with cancer so he didn’t breed any horses and sold all but this one colt. With the cancer, I figured a trainer going to his place would be easier than shipping a horse here, but if he’s coming out, it’s gotta be really something.” His brows knitted, the possibilities of what it might be evident on his face.

“How’s his wife?” I asked, feeling sympathy for this stranger I didn’t know.

“Got her first clean scan a month ago and has been cancer-free since,” Gunnar answered with a smile.

“That’s wonderful news,” I softly replied as Bill entered the arena with a beautiful red roan colt. With thick hindquarters and a long mane, he was sleek and shiny with a calm but focused demeanor. He was aware of every move that Bill made, stepping in sync with him.

That particular sound of mind in a horse was something Kurt constantly sought, and the kind I loved to train.

A low whistle left my lips as Bill approached. “He’s gorgeous.”

“But apparently not ‘it,’” Gunnar muttered quietly.

“Good luck,” I said, hopping down from the fence and making my way back to the bleachers as Bill approached Gunnar. “Here’s the guy. We call him ‘Outlaw’ ’cause he don’t follow any of the expected rules.” Bill chuckled as Gunnar watched him tie the horse to the hitching rail.

“Let’s see what you mean,” Gunnar answered, quickly brushing him down as Bill left and then returned with his tack. Throwing on a pad before an exquisite cutting saddle that had deep, hand-worked engravings along the hazelnut leather of the cantle, Gunnar bridled the horse with ease and led him into the arena. I watched with hunger as the horse immediately dropped his thick head, his ears turning toward Gunnar.

That horse was a vision.

Mounting, Gunnar asked him to move forward, circling around the arena, not going any faster than a walk. A couple of laps in both directions and Gunnar cued for a trot. My hand slapped over my mouth, sending a faint sting upon my skin. Such little movement jolted across Outlaw’s back, dreamily maintaining the lightest connection between Gunnar’s legs. Across diagonals, he held himself delicately in perfect frame, Outlaw’s mind never straying from the human sitting upon his back. That familiar sound of creaking leather as hips worked, in sync with hooves thundering over sand, pattered in tune with my heart.

Footsteps rattled the bleachers beside me, and I flashed a polite grin at Bill, who paused and tipped his head, staring directly at me as if he knew something I didn’t. I didn’t linger on his strange gaze, excited to see what was going to happen in the arena. The bleachers shook once more, and Bill sat down near me as my attention returned to Gunnar and Outlaw’s captivating dance. A horse that demonstrated all the signs of being a reining horse, not a cutting horse—but who was I to say anything?

Pushing the horse into a lope, the exquisite creature maintained a perfect frame for a few strides but then his shoulder stretched forward a half-length too far. Outlaw pushed his hindquarters under him and then reached out too far again, pulling himself instead of driving from behind—as a young horse often does. A fairly easy fix with the right tools.

“He should counter-canter him. Bump the reins gently and cue himself back under,” I muttered to myself.

“Pardon?” Bill spoke beside me.

“Oh, just talking to myself,” I quickly said, flashing another smile and returning to what Gunnar was doing. But I could feel Bill’s gaze linger, and I fidgeted with my hands, avoiding looking at him again.

Gunnar moved the horse toward the flag, and while that amazing animal tried really hard, Outlaw seemed to not care one bit about the flag. When they threw a herd of cattle into the arena, he didn’t pay a lick of attention to the other animals.

“Outlaw doesn’t seem to have a cowey bone in his body,” Gunnar loudly stated from the arena, moving the horse away from the herd and nodding at the two hands to push them back into the holding pen.

“No, but he would make a beautiful reining horse,” I muttered wistfully again, and Bill whipped his head toward me. Grimacing, knowing that Gunnar already told me to keep my mouth shut yesterday, I got up and tried to slink away.

“Ignore her. She’s just watching,” Gunnar said, throwing an accusing glare at me. There it was. Narrowing my eyes, I shot him a steely stare in return.

“Actually, she made a solid observation, something that I’ve been considering myself,” Bill replied in my defense, and glee pumped through me, stopping me in my tracks as I slid a grin at Gunnar in triumph.

“And what would that be?” he growled, a little annoyed as Bill stood up from his seat and stepped down to Gunnar, who brought the horse to a standstill beside the rail.

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