Page 26 of Blazing Hot Nights
There was no doubt by the timbre and staccato pattern of Heaven’s voice that she just said one of the hardest things she’d ever said. I hated that she perceived it as a weakness. When I saw her still in a saddle, I saw her as being stronger than anyone I’d ever known.
“I know a guy down in Texas who makes saddles for people with physical disabilities so they can keep riding,” I said as we made our way to the next pasture. “I could talk to him and see if there’s something out there that might work better for you.”
“Thanks, Blaze, but I can’t afford a new saddle. I don’t ride much now, anyway.”
“Maybe you don’t, but the question is, if you felt safer in the saddle, would you?”
She didn’t answer, which I expected. It was enough for me to plant the thought in her head and leave her alone to work out the answer herself. I already knew the truth. She was born to ride. Her daddy once told me she was riding horses with him before she could walk. She was training to be a rodeo barrel rider when she fell, and her whole world changed. If she was trying to fool someone with her lies, it wasn’t going to be me.
A fire burned ahead, and she quickly pulled up alongside me. “Is someone on your property, or is that Beau?”
I shook my head. “It’s me. I’m camping up here tonight.”
“Why?” she asked, her head tipping to the side in question.
I didn’t answer her. Instead, I slowed Rapunzel and dismounted when we reached the fire, tying Rapunzel up to the line so she could wander without getting lost. I turned, and Heaven sat upon Grover, her eyes downcast as she brushed out his mane with her fingers.
“I’m going to head home,” she said, and I heard the shame and fear that filled her words.
“Heaven, can you dismount or not?”
Her head snapped up and that fire of anger and determination raged there. “Of course I can dismount! I just don’t know that it’s worth it.”
I held up my hands in the “don’t shoot” position. “Okay. If you want to stay, I promise it’s worth getting off the horse. I’ll help you get back on when you’re ready to leave.”
“Fine,” she said, handing me Grover’s reins. She wrapped her arm around his neck and leaned over into his mane, whispering in his ear. The giant animal lowered himself to the ground and let his rider dismount. As soon as his load was clear, he stood again, and I hooked him to the line with Rapunzel.
“You should train horses, Heaven. You’ve done amazing things with him.”
“Grover has been around a lot of years. He just knows what I need him to do. What did you want to show me?” she asked, changing the subject. She never wanted the attention on herself, I noticed. Whether it was out of embarrassment or shame, I couldn’t decide.
I crooked my finger at her, and we stopped by the fire, where I grabbed my lantern and walked toward the fence. Heaven held back, her body language telling me exactly how she was feeling.
“There’s only one bull in this pasture. I have to protect the cows and red dogs.” She drew even with me. “I wouldn’t be camping right there if I was worried, now would I?” I whispered in her ear.
A shiver went through her, and I had to bite back a smirk of satisfaction. I was wearing her down. After the kiss the other night, I wanted nothing more than to push her up against the tree and kiss her in the firelight for the rest of the night, but I was acutely aware that was a knobheaded idea if I’d ever had one.
“What’s the big deal, Blaze? I’ve seen a thousand red dogs before.”
“Not like this one.” I squeezed the trigger on my high-powered LED flood light, and the bright light illuminated the pasture in front of us.
I waited for a beat and smiled with satisfaction when she stuck her nose up to the fence. Heaven wore a look of disbelief as she gazed at the animal standing in the middle of the pasture.
“You didn’t say one of those red dogs was a white bison!” she exclaimed in shock. “The last time that happened was—”
“Five years ago,” I finished.
A shiver ran through her again, but she was laser focused on the baby bison standing next to its momma. “I’ve never seen a living one in person before.”
“Wait until you see her in the daylight. She’s magnificent.”
“A white bison born anywhere is huge, Blaze, but a white bison born on the white man’s land is always cause for media coverage,” she whispered. “If this gets out, that red dog is front-page news. It’s TV cameras and reporters.”
I nodded, my Stetson swaying on my head. “That’s why I moved them to the back pasture. I can hide her back here. I don’t want this getting out, Heaven.”
Her hand grabbed my arm and when she made eye contact, the seriousness in her globes of dark navy blue told me she wanted to understand. “I’m not going to report it, but tell me why not? A white bison could be a huge cash cow for you. People from all over would know about Bison Ridge Ranch.”
“People from all over would also know I’m raising bison for slaughter. Humanely, I might add, but not everyone will see it that way. The right kind of advertising is okay. The wrong kind will produce a frenzy of activity on my land that I can’t predict. That kind of activity could rile up the animals, and that could spell disaster.”
