Page 4 of Riding the Storm
Pearl thanks me and promises to bring a batch of her famous dark chocolate peanut butter chip cookies next week before heading out.
By the time I have Sweet Pea unsaddled and hosed down, the sound of a diesel engine pulling into the yard makes me glance toward the main drive. A long silver trailer rolls in, kicking up a storm of dust behind. The truck is clean—too clean for ranch work—and parks straight as a ruler. Its side is emblazoned with a silver horse head with red flames in the eyes.
Ironhorse.
Of course it’s one of theirs.
I lean against the barn door, wiping my hands on a towel as the truck door swings open. Caison climbs out, looking like a cowgirl’s dream—jeans hugging him in all the right places, crisp white shirt, black Stetson covering his dark hair and shading that annoyingly handsome face.
Matty steps out from the office, her braid swinging behind her as she waves.
“There she is,” Caison calls, grinning wide as she walks toward him.
I toss my towel over a rail and join them, just as the driver lowers the ramp on the trailer. Inside stands one of the most beautiful horses I’ve seen in years. He’s a deep, glistening black with a sharp white blaze, muscles tight and lean under his coat. His eyes are bright, alert, but calm.
Smart horse. Expensive horse.
“He’s stunning,” I say, stepping closer. “What is he?”
“American quarter horse,” Caison answers. “Four years old. His name’s Midnight Storm.”
“Midnight Storm,” Matty whispers as she beams up at the majestic beast.
“Yep,” Caison says as his arm goes around Matty’s shoulders, and he kisses her head. “How could I not buy him once I saw his name?”
Her eyes flick up to his, and I can practically see her panties melt right off of her as he smiles.
I clear my throat.
“Get a room,” I murmur, then circle the horse slowly.
Midnight’s curious eyes follow me, his ears pinned back, tail clamped between his legs, body rigid. He lets out a warning breath before takinga step back. I widen my circle to give him room to assess me as I watch his body language.
“Hi, Midnight,” I say softly.
I raise my hand slowly as I stop in front of him. I stand still, not making eye contact, and keep my arm extended for a few seconds. Giving him time to familiarize himself with me. After a few tense beats, he bends to sniff my fingers. Once his head rises, I cautiously run my hand down his muzzle. He allows it, but his ears are still pinned, and his nostrils are slightly flared.
“It’s okay, big boy. You and I are going to be good friends,” I whisper before taking several steps backward.
“He’s magnificent,” I tell Caison.
“Exactly what I thought,” Caison says. “He’s got the speed and the muscle.”
I cut my eyes to him. “And you want him trained to be a riding horse?”
“Yeah. Why? You think that’s a bad idea?”
I shake my head. “Not necessarily. It’s just that you could have chosen a gelding for that. Seems this guy could be so much more.”
Caison smiles. “Well, I’ll be using him for work as well as pleasure. So, his strength and agility will come in handy if I need him for cutting or wrangling. He’ll be my primary transportation to and from the ranch from my house once it’s finished, so he needs to be a good trail horse. And I plan to breed him at some point.”
I nod. “Okay. Let’s get him settled into a stall. I’ll start working with him tomorrow, and I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you to join us.”
“Thanks, Charli. No one I’d rather have training him than you.”
I arch a brow at him. “Flattery?”
He laughs. “Guilty.”
