Page 1 of The Cowboy Who Worked Late

Chapter One

Henry Marshall walked at Gilligan’s flank, watching the horse pick up and put down his front hoof. “There’s still something wrong,” he muttered to himself. He’d been trying to get the horse to take shoes for a couple of months now, but now that they were on, he wasn’t walking right.

As a farrier, Henry had several tactics to try, and believe it or not, horses didn’t all wear the exact same kind of shoes. This was the third—and lightest—set he’d tried on Gilligan, and they still didn’t seem quite right.

Bard wouldn’t be happy about that, but Henry could come up with another suggestion for the rescue horse the owner had brought home several weeks ago. He truly believed every horse deserved the best care in the world, and he marveled that he’d been able to find such a perfect fit for him in a career.

Not only that, but Henry hadn’t been on a date since he’d started at Lone Star, and he let out a sigh that left his body with more contentment than ever before. He couldn’t believe that, as he really didn’t like staying home at night, and being alone in the evening was even worse.

But since coming to Lone Star, Henry had been busier than ever. Still learning a lot in his field, though he’d completed hiscoursework nine months ago. Meeting new suppliers, owners, farriers, and horses took a lot of his energy, and he thanked the Lord every evening for the connections he was making through Bard and Angel White.

He really liked his cabinmate, a man named Levi, and they were known to leave the ranch on Friday nights, but they just went to a restaurant, ate and talked and laughed, and returned to the ranch. Nothing scandalous, and Henry hardly recognized his life these days.

A year ago, everything had been so different. Henry himself had been wildly different, and as he looked back to Gilligan, a keen sense of gratitude overcame him. His momma had taught him to acknowledge the Lord in all things, especially when the feelings struck him, so Henry said, “Thank you for this good life, Lord,” as he walked.

Gilligan looked at him as he spoke, and Henry lengthened his stride to catch the equine at his shoulder. “This pair ain’t for you, bud,” he said. “I’m gonna take them off and put you in the pasture, okay?”

He put his hand on the horse’s neck, and Gilligan crowded into him. He’d been underfed and overworked at his previous ranch, and Bard had taken him in an estate sale, along with a dozen other horses.

The horsemen at Lone Star had been rehabilitating them in the following days, weeks, and months, and because Henry’s daddy owned an equine therapy unit, Henry had plenty of experience training and working with horses.

Gilligan had taken a shine to him, and only one other person could work with the horse—and that happened to be the worst person to work with Henry.

Angel White.

She’d been bringing her brother with her whenever she had to be in close proximity to Henry, something he’d absolutelynoticed. He’d said nothing to her of it, and she even conducted his performance evaluations with the door open. He’d asked around, and none of the other men had to have their job skills, work ethic, or anything else critiqued where anyone walking by could hear.

Henry frowned internally, and Gilligan slowed and huffed through his lips. “Yeah, buddy, I feel the same way.”

He’d not brought up the kiss from over a year ago now, and he wished God had not sharpened his memory of that moment, because he could relive it with precision any time he wanted. Asleep, awake, it didn’t matter.

For Angel had kissed him back. He knew that, and he knew she knew it—which was probably why she didn’t want to be in a closed-door room with him ever again.

He drew in a deep breath, getting a lot of horseflesh, the scent of fresh rain, and some notes of alfalfa as he prodded Gilligan to get moving again. The horse did what he wanted, and Henry had done more for the horses in his care than he’d ever done for any woman, for his siblings, even for his momma.

Most horsemen did the same, so Henry wasn’t unique in that way. It simply surprised him, and he made a mental note to put it in his prayer journal that evening before he went to bed.

In the stable, he moved Gilligan back to the shoeing station, got the offensive shoes off, cleaned up his hooves, and turned him loose in the pasture with a few of his equine friends. Gilligan made no move to join them in the shade, where they snacked on the coolest grass. He was a bit of an outcast still, and maybe that was why Henry connected to him so deeply.

“See you tomorrow, bud,” he said before turning to return to the stable. He had a standing desk in the facility—all the horsemen and farriers did—and he found Gilligan’s file and entered the notes for that day’s trial.

He pulled out his phone and texted Bard.Those shoes on Gilligan weren’t right. When can I come over and chat with you about another solution?

The older gentleman had retired completely from any administrative role at Lone Star, passing everything to his daughter, Angel. But he still liked to consult with his team leads on specific cases, and Henry and Gilligan qualified.

He wasn’t glued to his phone the way Henry and others his age were, so he didn’t expect Bard to answer immediately. He picked up the next folder, reviewed the notes for a pretty bay named Henrietta, and he went to retrieve her from her stall and get her feet back in shape.

Henry loved the fresh air he was privy to for his job. He loved the blue sky filled with puffy white clouds, and he loved the scratch of his gloves against his skin. He loved the view of his tools, the feel of leather along his arm, and the living, breathing animal at his side.

He chatted with Levi and a couple of other farriers throughout the afternoon, and by evening, he remembered he hadn’t looked at his phone in a few hours. Bard had answered with,Stop by whenever, son, so Henry quickly texted back that he’d come by in the morning.

He then found several texts on his friends’ group text. He appreciated his cousin for including him in the things he and his wife planned for their friends in Three Rivers, and Henry climbed the steps to his cabin and sat on the top one to read his messages.

I need a final count for game night on Saturday, Edith Ackerman had said. Finn’s wife.Depending on who’s in for sure will determine what game we’ll have ready. We’ll also make food assignments once we know.

She’d added a smiley face and a heart, and Henry truly did feel like his friends in Three Rivers loved him.

We’re in, Lincoln Glover had sent. He and his wife had been married for coming up on a year now, and Henry wasn’t surprised at all to see his confirmation. Nor Dawson Rhinehart’s. He and his fiancée would be there—and they’d be married in the next month.

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