Page 12 of Destined for the Cowboy

He gave her a considering look. “You did know?”

Did he think she’d said no just to…what? Get him to talk to her longer? She felt a bit of a churning in her stomach as she realized that she might well have, if she’d thought of it. But she shook her head. “Ringing a bell isn’t the same as knowing, to me. I know of him, of course, but not that specific battle. He accomplished so much else.”

“Know where he got the nickname ‘Rip’?”

She shook her head again. And had to acknowledge that this time she might have denied knowledge even if she had it, just because of the glint in those green eyes.

“When he served in the Mexican war, he started writing ‘rest in peace’ on his casualty lists, after every name of a soldier killed in battle.”

“I like that,” she said.

“He was an honorable man, even if he didn’t get here in time to fight in The Revolution.”

He spoke the last two words as if they were capitalized, and it made her smile again. “I’m definitely putting it on my list. For a weekender, obviously.”

“It’s pretty close to South Padre, if you wanted to combine it with an actual vacation.” He raised a brow at her. “You do get those, don’t you?”

She laughed, startling herself at how at ease she felt. “I haven’t even thought about them for a while, but I may have to start.”

And if her imagination just plopped the two of them on a South Padre Island beach together, well, he didn’t need to know that.

Chapter Seven

“Ithink that’lldo it,” Logan said as he released the bay’s left front hoof. “If he continues to develop bruises, then you’ll need to have the vet take a look, but it looks like he’s just got thin soles, so any rocky terrain can cause problems for him.”

Richard Baylor nodded as the horse put the foot down, this time with more weight than he’d been willing to put on it before Logan had reshod him.

“I’ll make sure he rests a couple of days, then we’ll see,” the rancher said.

Logan bent to start putting away his tools, the rasp, clinchers, and the hoof tester that had shown him the bruise was just a bruise, not an abscess.

“Hey, Dad, Logan.” Nic Baylor’s voice came from behind him. She’d walked the slightly gimping horse over from the therapy stables after he’d finished with the ranch horses. “Did we go with the thicker shoes?”

“Yes,” Richard answered his daughter. “Logan thinks it will do the trick.”

Logan straightened up as Nic answered, “Good,” patting the bay’s rump as she passed. “Thanks, Logan.”

“What does a thicker shoe do?”

Logan froze at the second female voice. That low, almost husky voice that made him suddenly glad she hadn’t arrived in the middle of the reshoeing. Who knows what he would have messed up. What was Tris doing here? She must be here visiting her brother and nephew. But then why was she here and not with them?

He was glad when Richard answered her question since he seemed incapable of speech at the moment.

“It ups his clearance, on rocky ground,” the rancher said.

“Walnut here was always picking up stone bruises,” Nic said, “after we’d take him anywhere outside a corral or pasture.”

“So it’s like raising up a truck so it doesn’t hit rocks, for off-roading?” Tris asked.

Logan smiled despite his ridiculous nerves. “Exactly like that.” There. He’d gotten that out all right.

“We can add some padding later if necessary,” Richard said, “but I agree with Logan—this should do it.”

“Good,” Nic repeated. “He’s a sweetheart with the kids.”

“He’s a sweetheart, period,” Logan said, reaching out to rub the horse’s outstretched muzzle. “Pleasure to work with.”

“Who isn’t, with you?” Nic said teasingly.

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