Page 2 of On His Ranch

Now normally the horses would let out a whinny or two of excitement when they saw him, but they seemed unmoved by the sight of him this morning.

“Huh.” He reached out and stroked Chance’s nose. “Tough crowd today, huh?”

Senior had plenty of tidbits he’d passed down to his grandson throughout the years. One of them was to always be aware of your surroundings. Thanks to it, he’d stopped short of stepping on a snake on more than one occasion. On this particular morning, those same sharp observation skills made him realize something wasn’t right from the moment he’d stepped foot inside the barn. Besides the horses’ rather lackluster greeting, his stable broom wasn’t where he’d left it. As he looked for it, his gaze was drawn to the hand truck. It was standing upright and in place, but something was amiss. Chase’s gray eyes narrowed as he scrutinized it. Wait… was that… yep, there were several pieces of hay around the left wheel. Hmm. Ordinarily, he was a stickler for cleaning up after himself.

Suddenly, the super fine hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. That could only mean one thing. Either a rattler, or an intruder—neither of which was particularly good news. Both had the potential to be equally devastating, depending on how quickly he reacted.

“Got quite a day planned for us, Shadow,” he began conversationally, moving down to the next stall. “Senior says you’re takin’ more than your fair share of the feed, so he reckons you oughta earn it with a gallop this afternoon.” Though he kept his voice level, the minute he’d noticed something amiss he’d become hyper-aware, poised for anything to happen. “Yes, sir. It’s been awhile since you’ve had a coupla laps ‘round the property, bet it’ll feel good to stretch those legs out.” As he spoke, Chase kept his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. He didn’t see anything, but his ears perked up. Was that… whimpering?

He remembered begging his grandfather to take him hunting when he was a boy. Senior had kindly but adamantly refused until Chase could prove that he would be able to be quiet enough as not to scare off the game. He’d taught him how to crouch low and to tread softly without making a sound. Only when Chase could move without disturbing a single branch was he allowed to go on the next hunting trip.

It was those skills he used now, moving with stealth toward the sound, poised to attack or defend, whichever became necessary. There was a certain thrill in danger, he’d known that from an early age, but it was different when you were armed and prepared for it. He wasn’t a fan of surprise attacks.

As he neared the shed, he clearly heard sounds of fear. A less experienced person might think he could let down his guard, but Chase knew it was the opposite. Nothing was more dangerous than an animal that was afraid and felt caged. They would strike to kill at the slightest provocation.

Wait… was that a tennis shoe peeking out from the shed? Whoever—or whatever—was making those noises was clearly trying to muffle them.

Behind him, a horse whinnied.

“Don’t you worry none now, fellas. I’m gonna get your breakfast.” He paused, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for whatever he might find. Then he reached for the shed’s double doors and swung them open, taking a few long steps back, just in case.

He couldn’t believe what he saw. It wasn’t an animal, or even a burglar. Well, unless that burglar was five-foot-three and a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. Not that he didn’t think women were just as capable of stealing; it was only that thieves didn’t typically take a nap before they got their wares and beat a hasty retreat. Which, judging by what he was seeing, was exactly what the vagrant inside the shed had been doing as her head was perched atop a burlap sack, a rough wool blanket draped over her shoulders.

She was currently staring at him with eyes wider than he’d ever thought possible.

“Have a nice nap?” he growled, every word tinged with warning.

She blanched, spots of embarrassment on her cheeks the only color in her otherwise ashen face. “I… uh…”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” he demanded loudly. He had relaxed, but only the smallest fraction. He still had no idea what the hell she was doing hiding inside his barn, and though she looked harmless at the moment, only time would tell.

She flinched at the sternness in his bellow. “I mean, I, uh, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I want an answer. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She reached up and brushed dirty blonde hair out of her face. “I-I just n-needed a place to sleep.”

He scowled. If she thought she was going to soften him with that stammering, she had better think again.

She seemed to be waiting for him to say something, and when he didn’t, her porcelain face screwed up in a collage of quickly changing expressions as she went from startled, to embarrassed, to fearful.

Chase was pleased to let the silence between them draw out. It gave him time to assess whether or not she was a threat, whatever she might say. It also couldn’t hurt to let her realize what a needlessly ridiculous position she’d put herself in. “This is a barn, not a hotel,” he said at last.

She cringed at his fierce pronouncement. “I know that. I—”

“Evidently you don’t, ma’am.” Rule number two: remember your manners, no matter what. “Now, why don’t you get out of there and we’ll have ourselves a talk?” He offered her a hand.

Straight white teeth bit down on her full bottom lip as she regarded him with fearful, wide eyes. After a few moments, she took his hand.

Chase easily hoisted her out the shed. When she was standing up straight, he was pleased to see he stood a head and shoulders taller. He’d guessed her height right down to the inch. He watched as she busied herself with dusting off her pants. He reckoned a woman who slept in a horse shed didn’t care much about the state of her clothing, so she must be looking for a reason to avoid his gaze.

Well, he wasn’t having it. “Now don’t you think you oughta explain yourself? Figured I’d be nice and give you a chance before I call the cops.”

That did it. Her eyes shot back to him, even rounder, if that was possible. “You can’t!” As soon as the words left her lips, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

Wise move, he thought, squelching a smile. Clearly this little girl already knew who was in charge here. “Ican’t?” he echoed, looming over her, daring her to repeat it.

Her hands still clasped tightly over her mouth, her wide eyes appearing even larger in her peaked face, she shook her head.

---