Page 51 of The Auction
He didn’t exist as far as I could tell. Which, given what I now knew about him, seemed legit. I’d been doing as much research on Navy Seals as I could and they kept themselves as off the radar as possible, with obviously good reason.
“Tell them not to worry, I’ll have him tethered by the time they get here,” he said, even as he slowly moved in the direction of where the horse was grazing.
I stopped. “Dude, that horse doesn’t have a saddle or reins. You’re not going to get close to him. Just don’t make eye contact so he doesn’t startle and run off.”
He shot me a look over his shoulder that basically told me not to worry about it.
I pulled up Mrs. Talley’s contact information and she answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Mrs. Talley, it’s Jules from over at the Clarke farm,” I said.
Shit. Did I just refer to myself as Jules?
“Juliette, hi. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, it’s what I can do for you. We just spotted your paint on our property. He’s hanging out and grazing right now, so if you can get over here with some gear to fetch him…Hey, Creed! I’m telling you, you’ll only spook him!”
“What’s he doing?” Mrs. Talley asked.
“Dumb idiot’s got a rope in his hands like he’s going to fucking lasso him,” I muttered. Not registering I probably shouldn’t be cussing on the phone to my elders.
“I’ll send Jackson Jr. over with the horse trailer. Don’t worry if he bolts, that horse has a mind of its own. We’ll track him down eventually.”
I disconnected the call, shaking my head.
“They teach you rodeo in the fucking Navy? Because you’re going to need some of that if you think you’re going to get within ten feet of that horse!” I shouted out to Creed, who had a rope in his hand that he was knotting in a certain way.
He glanced back at me and made a motion with his arm as if to shush me from a distance.
“Idiot,” I muttered, happy to sit back and watch him make a fool of himself the second the horse caught his scent and bolted.
Except Creed kept moving forward like he knew the damn horse. Not overly cautious, just the right amount of confidence for the horse to know he wasn’t a threat, but he also wasn’t intimidated by the animal’s size.
So fine, he’d been around horses before. He said he spent time on the res with his mother’s people before going to school. But plenty of people might feel comfortable walking up to a horse, maybe even getting close enough to pet it.
Roping a horse? Holding on to that rope?
Especially if this paint had an attitude?
No way.
The horse started pawing his front hoof into the dirt, a warning signal to Creed to stay back, but the dumb man just kept moving forward. Forward. Forward.
Sonofabitch. With a flick of the wrist, he’d actually managed to get the rope around the paint’s neck. Loose, but still there. Then, gradually, it looked like he was cinching it up, a little tighter with every step he got closer.
Like clockwork, as if sensing the threat, the paint reared back on its hind legs, but it didn’t bolt. Just shook its head, its mane flying around him, until with a couple more stomps it once again stood motionless.
Creed didn’t move at all. Almost like he was waiting the horse out. Zero hurry. No pressure on the rope. Eventually, he stepped forward and rubbed his hand down the horse’s nose. Got his palm up in the horse’s snout and mouth so the animal could take in his smell.
Then, because apparently I was wrong about everything, I watched as Creed swept his body up onto the back of the paint, the rope in his hand, but not tight around the horse’s neck as to be threatening to the animal. Just a loose rein in order to direct him.
The paint danced a few steps forward, a few steps to the side, but Creed sat on him like a heavy weight the animal had no shot of bucking. He just moved up and down, left to right, until finally the horse stilled.
Maybe he stayed there a minute or an hour, I couldn’t say because I was absolutely gob smacked. My life had been firmly grounded in reality since I was old enough to understand who I’d been cursed with for a father.
But this shit was like something out of the movies. Some horse whisperer shit that didn’t really exist in real life.
Creed clucked a heel against the paint’s side and started moving him toward the barn. Still no sudden movements. Everything very controlled and contained. He was the boss of that horse.
