Page 14 of Bleeding Blackheart

I offered to pay anything for her, and her owner gave her to me for free. Said she wasn’t worth a penny. And she isn’t. My five-year-old girl is priceless.

I enter her space and pick the hay out of her hair and grab her brush to go through her thick black mane. “Easy, girl.” She always gets riled up when I get her brush and prefers me to detangle her hair with my fingers, but the brush is faster.

The last thing I want to do is leave my girls to go to Arizona. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been away from them. But I need the money. Well, I don’t necessarily need it, but it would help out a lot. I just hate that I don’t know how long I’m gonna be gone. Something tells me that my journey with Montana will take more than a few days.

Thank God for Dallas. We’ve been friends since high school, and I can always count on him to have my back. And he and his wife Cali are seconds away from killing each other these days that I know he’d love to get away and stay at the house for as long as possible.

I could spend the entire afternoon with Willow, but it’s not fair to my other girls. I get her some hay and oats to eat, and then I move over to my fire starter, Cassidy.

Cassidy is my fifteen-year-old, gray Arabian, and she’s nothing but trouble. I love her still, but I don’t love getting bit or kicked. I show her nothing but love, and she just gives me a hard time to rile me up. She gets the same grooming as Willow, but she doesn’t get a hug or a kiss because I’m not in the mood to get head butted.

Next up are Loretta, Waverly, and Faye, my beautiful Appaloosas. It doesn’t take me long to get them squared away. Loretta is about the same age as Willow, and she’s a lot like her too. Waverly is good but shy. She’s eight, but it feels like I’ve known her my whole life. And Faye is my fourteen-year-old girl who I got the day I moved into this house. My very first baby, and the one I’m most scared to say goodbye to someday. She’s been through it all with me.

Then there’s Oakley. I don’t know what the hell she is, but she’s a good one. Light gray and white with a long mane and a thin tail. She’s a picky eater though. Don’t love that.

Another trio I have is my American Quarter Horses. They’re really Dallas’, but they live here with me. Peyton, Fara, and Clementine.

And last but not least in stall number ten is the hardest girl for me to see. My Tennessee Walking Horse, Violet. Margaret’s horse, Violet.

Violet was at Margaret’s house the day I found her dead. I scooped up what I could of her shoes, her most prized possessions, and was getting ready to say goodbye to that chapter of my life forever.

Then I saw Violet.

I wanted to leave her there. I knew my father would be back, and I wanted him to slay that damn horse like he did my woman. I couldn’t bear to look at her. I hated her for surviving when Margaret didn’t. I hated her for not finding a way out of her stall to barge in the house and attack my father to death. I hated her for everything she couldn’t control.

But when I looked into her eyes, I saw Margaret. I saw all the times she told me about this damn horse and images of her training her and riding her flashed in my mind. I knew I couldn’t leave her behind. If I couldn’t protect the most important person in the world to me, the least I could do is look after her best friend.

So Violet moved in with me. The same day I got Faye. But she didn’t get the same love I give to Faye. And I’m not sure she ever will.

After hours of cleaning horse shit, shearing sheep, and feeding yaks, I’m filthy, exhausted, and starved. I rinse off my hands outside and leave my boots by the door.

It’s when I walk into my home and lock up behind me that I remember I’m not alone. I get a whiff of my lavender soap along with Montana’s natural scent, and my body aches to see her.

Looking at the clock in my kitchen, it’s a little after six. She should be getting up soon, and then we need to get ready for tomorrow.

I grab a bottle of water and sit at my kitchen table. After a few swigs, I pull my phone out of my pocket to get my arrangements in place.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” My old friend sounds tired but happy nonetheless.

“Hey, Dallas. I need a favor.”

He moves through his house while a woman yells in the background. Probably Cali. “Anything.”

I take a breath and catch him up on what went down with Montana. Like me, he’s a contract killer too. He’s also a professor.

He pauses. “Barnes? As in Mason Barnes?”

“Yes. He gave me the job.” I reveal how I can get more money with his daughter alive, and he groans over the line.

“You’re going to end up dead. That man will kill you dead.”

My frustration builds, hating that I have two people thinking I’m an idiot when it comes to Mr. Barnes. “Don’t worry about what the fuck I’m doing. I just need you to stay at the ranch until I get back. Take care of the girls, keep business running.” He has time off from his day job for at least another month, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

A long pause goes by, and then he comes back on the line. “Alright.”

I end the call, and once I’ve finished hydrating, I grab a few bottles for my hostage and head upstairs.

I enter the door slowly, and when I walk in the room, I remove the peas from her body and toss them in the trash.

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