Page 3 of Captured By the Billionaire Cowboy
Well, how about that?“No.”
“Let me help.”
“You can’t.” Ciara gently pushed the checkbook away. “You need your money to start that bakery you’re always talking about, and I need to do this on my own. But thank you. And don’t worry.” She embraced her sister in a tight hug. “I’ll be fine.”
Sophia grasped her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Ciara took a deep breath. Her sister’s kindness waseverything. “It’ll be easy. I’ll drive a couple of hours, save the horse, and Snowflake will have a friend. No problem.”
There was a problem.
Twelve problems to be exact.
“A dozen horses?” Ciara blinked at the animals, just in case she was seeing double… and double… and double. Yet the image remained, an egg carton’s worth of offerings when she expected a single horse.
The man’s face twisted in contempt, beady black eyes narrowed, as he glared at the animals as if they had no right existing. The man who led her to the filthy barn wore tornflannel, a perpetual scowl and a disgusting cologne reeking of alcohol. He coughed, then spit a wad of tobaccoatthe horses. They jerked and backed away, their wary eyes pinned on the glowering brute.
“I never said there was just one,” he growled.
“But the webs–” At his harsh glare, Ciara stopped. “I thought there was one.”
“Nope.” He spit another putrid glob of tobacco, casting nausea deep into her stomach. The scent of rotted eggs tangled with the odor of hardened manure. “There’s twelve of the wretched creatures. So just tell me which you want. Price is the same for all of them.”
“And the rest…”
He shrugged. “I got a buyer. They’re coming tomorrow.”
No.
The website made clear who that buyer was, and what he planned for the horses. She couldn’t leave the beautiful animals to their horrific fate. “Can I have a little time? A few weeks to get the money together?” She could ask around, look for sponsors and hopefully locate good homes for the animals before it was too late.
The gnarled man scrunched up his face. “I don’t have time for that. The rate per pound is excellent today. You buy the horses, or they go tomorrow.”
Rate per pound?
Do not yell. Do not scream. Do not grab every horse and escape from this monster.
Even at the relatively low price, they still cost thousands, not including the money to care for them. She would have to empty every account she had, break into her piggy bank and exclude the cents, and it would just be enough to buy them. The money left to care for them?
The cents.
The caretaker scowled. “Just tell me which one you want for the money you’ve already paid and you can be on your wa–”
“I’ll take them all!”
Surprise silenced the man, yet suspicion swiftly replaced it. “Do you have that sort of money?”
She breathed out, calculated again. It would be nearly every cent of the nest egg she’d spent years saving, but there was no choice. How could she take one horse and leave the others? Notching up her chin, she nodded.
“All right.” He stroked his wiry goatee. “Come inside and we’ll take care of business. Just get the horses out of here by tonight.”
Her breathandworld hitched. “Tonight?”
“I’m not feeding them one more meal. You have a few hours to make arrangements, then I’m gone. One way or another, the horses will be, too.” He smiled, cruel, malicious andgleeful. Did the man actually enjoy hurting animals?
She no longer hid her distaste as she followed him into a ramshackle office, as she called her bank and made arrangements for the transfer of funds. With a pledge to return, she somehow made it to her fifteen-year-old blue pick-up, unlocked the door and sat on the duct-taped seats. Yet she didn’t start the car, because there was nowhere to go, no destination for a dozen horses that deserved the space to roam, heal andlive. Water pricked her eyes, blurring her vision and dampening her cheeks. She leaned forward until the scratchy padding of the wheel stopped her.
She had a dozen horses, nowhere to board them and 672 euros in her bank account.
