Page 8 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
I let myself out of her stall to resume my duties. Yesterday, we received an order for two thoroughbreds, and I’ve been working my ass off all day making sure they’re ready for delivery in two days.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Duncan, my assistant foreman, greets, walking up to me with a clipboard in hand.
I grunt an inaudible response and take it from him. “Vet assessment?” I question when I see that spot is still unfilled on the form.
“He’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
After checking on the detailed report of the two horses, I hand the clipboard back to Duncan and proceed to the stalls myself. These two need to be constantly babysat for the next forty-eight hours until they’re out of our hands.
Iron Stallion ranch boasts of running one of the top horse breeding programs in the country, and as the foreman, those responsibilities fall on my shoulders. We specialize in thoroughbreds, but we also breed Mustangs, Arabians, and American Quarter horses.
It’s a taxing job, but it allows me to work with animals instead of dealing with human beings, and if you ask me, that’s a fair trade.
I check on two foals that were born in the past week, ensuring that they’re faring well before proceeding to the last stop: the Sunset stables, where we specialize in end-of-life care for horses that have had a good run.
I stop at the last stall, which houses a beautiful Appaloosa mare—Lilly. It’s heartbreaking watching creatures that were once so powerful be reduced to pitiful versions of their prime selves, but I’m glad we can offer a safe haven for them to live out their final days.
“Hey, girl. How are you doing today?” I whisper, picking up a brush.
Her spotted coat is slowly losing its beautiful shine, but it still needs care.
She rewards me with a soft grunt and reaches into my pants pocket where she knows I always have goodies for her. I retrieve an apple and a couple of baby carrots that I periodically feed her while I brush her coat.
This is as much therapeutic for her as it is for me. Lilly and I spend an hour together before she dismisses me by shoving me out of her stall since I’ve overstayed my welcome.
It’s dark out, and the hot Texas air has cooled down, but there’s still some lingering humidity in the air.
My plans for an ice bath to cool down after a hard day are ruined when I recall that my ice machine is broken. An ice bath is the only thing that helps with my sore muscles, but my machine being broken means one thing—I need to head into the main house to get ice. Damn! I can skip the ice bath, but I’ll be in for a rough night ahead.
I weigh my options and decide that interacting with my family for a few minutes won’t be so bad. I might even be lucky and not have to see them at all. I’ll be quick—in and out like lightning.
Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky, and that’s the opposite of what happens.
I let myself into the main house using the back door that connects to the kitchen, only to find my father, Hank, younger brother, Jace, his six-year-old daughter, Daisy, and my sister, Ella, in there having dinner. They all look surprised to see me, which is understandable as I rarely come in here.
I’m tempted to walk back out, but I’m already here, so I might as well.
“Ice,” I explain shortly as I walk past them to the ice machine on the furthest end of this vast kitchen.
“Uncle Zane, join us for pizza,” Daisy calls out, being the first one to speak up.
I don’t really want to, but I haven’t eaten, and saying no to a six-year-old seems rude, so I opt to join them for a couple of slices.
Everyone else seems surprised when I do, while Daisy is grinning widely from ear to ear, exposing a missing front tooth. That smile might just be worth this uncomfortable dinner.
The therapist my father forced me to see a few years back diagnosed me with PTSD, but I think he was a quack—PTSD is for veterans. I should know; Jace has it, and it doesn’t lookpretty on him. I just don’t like people because of the pity looks they give me since the accident that ended my lifelong career.
Jace coughs and turns to Ella. “So, El, you were saying?” He prompts her to resume the conversation they were having before I walked in.
“Oh yes, I’ve invited Ava to stay with us for a while,” she announces.
At the mention of that name, I freeze mid-bite, in shock. Everyone in this house knows who Ava is, and I can feel them watching me and waiting for my reaction, but none is forthcoming.
“How long is a while?” Jace questions.
“Three months, give or take. She’s on break and needs a place to unwind, so I offered up Iron Stallion,” she explains.
Three months?! Ava Noa, the girl I haven’t seen in five years and the one who won’t stop haunting my dreams, will be living with us for three months? Is Ella crazy?
