Page 9 of The Cowboy's Wild Side

The moment the words left her lips she knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

“You may be able to buy people where you come from,” he shot back, glaring at her, “but that doesn’t work around here.”

“I’m sorry, Cade, I didn’t mean—”

“Karen, I’m not for sale!”

“Cade, please, I’m really sorry,” she continued, speaking hastily as he marched to the door and held it open. “Helen and Andy spoke so highly of you. Please give me another chance?”

As he tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, she felt a glimmer of hope.

“You won’t pay me a dime, but you’ll be here every mornin’ at seven to clean three stalls, and every evenin’ at five to feed three horses. If you’re late, it’s over. If you don’t do as I say, it’s over. That’s the deal.”

“Thank you, Cade, yes, absolutely, you won’t regret this,” she replied urgently, though dreading the prospect of getting up so early.

“Come with me. I’ll show you where everything is.”

* * *

When Karen had offered to double his fee, Cade abruptly realized he didn’t want her money, he wanted her company. Now walking up to the barn with Jack and Diane bounding excitedly ahead of them, he dared to hope she’d agreed to his offer because she wanted to be around him just as much. But he also sensed she genuinely loved horses, and he wanted to show her the reality of caring for them. Being around a successful racing stable was a far cry from the joys and challenges of ownership.

“Wow, this is a lovely barn,” she exclaimed as they entered. “The aisle is so wide.”

“Thanks, I designed it and helped to build it. The hayloft is upstairs and you just drop down the flakes. It saves time and energy. But there’s no gettin’ around pushin’ a wheelbarrow when it comes to cleanin’ a stall. They’re all done now, but when you get here in the mornin’ I’ll show you. Come this way and you can see the loft.” But as he started towards the steps, she lingered at the stall door. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking how nice it is that the horses have a corral attached. They don’t have those at the racing stable.”

“A stall is just a fancy name for a cage,” he replied with a frown. “I don’t believe in puttin’ any animal in a confined space like that. In the wild horses will walk between ten and thirty miles a day.”

“You’re kidding? I didn’t know that.”

“Yep, and people stick them in boxes then wonder why they’re anxious. Those corrals aren’t near as big as I’d like them to be, but at least they can walk around outside, and they’re out in the pastures until sundown. Follow me, and you don’t have to worry. It’s like a regular staircase with a sort of landing at the top.”

As he trotted up the steps and emerged into the spacious loft he broke into a smile. Shafts of light were beaming through the small windows on the right side.

“Wow, look at that,” she exclaimed as she stepped up to join him. “It looks like a painting.”

“It happens right around sunset if it’s not cloudy.”

“Sunset? It’s that late?”

“The days are gettin’ shorter faster. Anyway, you can see where the spaces are to drop down the hay, and above each one is a sign with the type of hay and how much each horse gets. My mare, Roxy, get’s a flake of alfalfa and a flake of grass hay each night.”

“What’s the difference?”

“That’s a conversation for another time, but you can tell them apart by lookin’ at them. This is alfalfa, and that’s grass,” he said, showing the difference. “I’ll explain about the supplements and grain when I take you into the feed room.”

“There’s so much to learn.”

“Karen, you have no idea.”

“Apparently.”

“Since I’m up here I’ll drop the hay in now. You take that side, and I’ll do this one. Just follow what it says on the feed chart.”

“Oh, okay. And that’s alfalfa, and that’s grass. It doesn’t look like grass.”

“There are all kinds of grasses,” he remarked with a grin, lifting up a flake and carrying it to the first opening. But even as he dropped it down he kept his eye on her, and continued to watch closely until they were finished.

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