Page 3 of Claimed By A Cowboy
Hyde stomps her feet, swiping her tail side to side. Pulling the apple out of my pocket, stashed with several others and some carrots meant to butter her up, I offer it to her. Hyde neighs and almost nods, taking it from me with a quick snap of her teeth.
“Watch it now,” I coo at her, running a hand down her dark mane, “Let me keep my fingers Hyde.”
An annoyed neigh comes from her, and I chuckle. I give her a few of the treats until I believe she is calm enough to try to saddle. As soon as I grab a saddle and tack, she throws a fit in her stall.
“Too bad. You need a long ride, Hyde. You can try to throw me if you want. I won’t mind a bit of exercise, sweetheart.”
It takes me ten minutes to get her saddled. I do not mind her not wanting to cooperate. Where she came from, she was terribly handled. Her hooves were not maintained, she was underweight. Now she gets all the feed she wants, plus daily treats, as we nurse her back to life.
“Come on, let’s take a little walk, Hyde,” I encourage gently as I let her out of the stall.
It takes another apple to get her out. I came prepared to have to coax her. I walk her through a paddock, keeping a lose hold of the reins. I do not want her to take off and drag me along after her. I learned my lesson with this one.
“There you go, just enjoy the sunshine and the nice breeze. It is a lovely day out, don’t you want to go for a run, Hyde?”
Each day I work with her, and horses like her, I feel a little bit better about myself. I was nothing like the people who hurt these animals, but I wouldn’t say I was much better. I had been selfish. I had been greedy. I was once a cold, withdrawn man who blamed the world for my shitty life.
My mother died when I was just a baby. I don’t even remember her face or her voice. My father test drove half a dozen new mothers for me before I was ten. Once he got married, they had their own kids, and I was forgotten about.
To be honest, I did not mind them leaving me out of trips or forgetting my birthdays. I did not like the attention. I had freedom. I came and went as I pleased, I stopped going to classes, and I spent a lot nights on the streets. I smoked weed and drank anything I could get my hands on.
Out on the streets, I found my own family. Guys just like me who had nowhere else to go. We lived by our own set of rules. Our own code. We were loyal to each other. I really believed we had figured life out.
“This court finds you guilty of manslaughter, Mr. Fellows. You are hereby sentenced to seven to ten years in prison.”
Going to prison for something I was not guilty of proved I had nothing figured out about life. I was there the night someone got killed, sure. We all were. It was after a party at our clubhouse. The doer was one of my best friends. Someone said the wrong thing to the wrong woman, and he paid with his life during a brawl.
It wasmyclubhouse. I was considered the leader of the motley crew of men who rode with me. When the cops got there, I was the last man standing. Men I trusted, men I would have done anything, given anything for, they left me holding the bag.
“Learn something from this,” my father said the one time he came to visit me. “Use it as fuel to change the direction of your life, son.”
That man had never done a thing for me. Besides give me that piece of advice at the very moment I needed to hear it. In jail, I finished classes to get my diploma. I read the entire library, learning anything I could. When I got out, I had a plan for myself.
“Have you ever ridden a bronc before?” Pack Turner chuffed when I showed up to a rodeo arena two weeks after my release.
“No but took one time of beating my meat for me to become a pro. I am a fast learner. More important—I am good with horses, and I am hungry to live a different life than the one I have been living.”
It was easier convincing Pack I could ride than it was convincing myself. I worked with the horses, mucked stalls, and did any odd job that needed done before I had the balls to climb on a horse. I was not lying when I told him I was good with horses—it was the one good thing that came out of my childhood.
Once I got on a horse, I began to figure out who I was. I loved riding, I loved training a horse, and watching it grow to become a champion. There is better than earning their trust. Nothing as good as the feeling of riding a bronc that won’t let anyone else near them.
“Morning, Wylder,” a deep voice calls, stirring me from my thoughts.
Turning to see one of the hands, I sigh. I am in no mood for this. I agreed to this damn auction. I did not agree to be given shit for it. I am sure the entire ranch knows who was bid on, and for how much. It was for the best of the ranch, it seemed to be the least I could do.
“Morning Tye,” I call with a tip of my hat. “If you came to boast or bust my balls, don’t.”
Tye chuckles and shakes his head, climbing on the tall fence circling the paddock. Hyde slows her gait, her focus drawn to Tye hanging from the fence. I smirk as she doubles back, picking up speed as she whines.
It is a warning for Tye, but he is a hard ass from the rodeo circuit too. Reaching over the fence, he puts his palm out just as she rushes the fence. Skidding to a stop, she makes a sound of joy as she sees his hand holding a big green apple. Her favorite.
“Lucky prick,” I tease him as she munches on it, swiping her tail back and forth. “Hyde was about to knock you on your ass.”
“Nah, not me. Hyde adores me. Mostly because I always come bearing gifts. And I am not here to boast or bust your balls. Five grand, huh? Someone trying to track down the great Wylder Fellows?”
Blinking at him in the bright sunlight, I frown. I never thought about why someone would spend so much on me for one day. Is there someone from my past that could be looking for me? That would pay that kind of money to ensure they get a face to face with me?
“God, I hope not. No one comes to mind.”
