Page 30 of Wrangled

Damn. Matt was a wonder.

I headed straight for the coffee. I knew what my priorities were. Then I found an empty chair, sat, and filled my plate. No one spoke while we ate, but by the time we were on the third pot of coffee, the conversation started to flow.

“So what’s first on the schedule?” I asked.

Butch leaned back. “Finding you a horse. Then making sure you can ride him.” He peered at Declan. “You okay on Charger again?”

Declan smiled. “That big old boy? Sure. He’s a sweetheart.”

Butch cackled. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but whatever fills your bucket.”

“What’s Lucy like?” Garrett asked. “That’s the horse you thought might be a good match for me, right?”

Butch’s smile was kind. “Yeah. And sheisa regular sweetheart. Gentle as a lamb. You won’t have no trouble with her.”

He went up in my estimation.You can be a sweetheart too, can’t you?Not that I’d say as much to his face.

I imagined those big fists could land quite a wallop.

I finished my coffee. “Can I go look at the stables?” I grabbed my jacket from where I’d left it on a hook the previous night.

“You can’t go out like that,” Paul said, his eyes wide. “You’re naked.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Paul grabbed a hat from the wall. It was then I noticed for the first time that there were a great many hats. He flung it at me. “That should fit you.”

I put it on, checking myself in the mirror. It was white with a leather trim.

Zeeb snorted. “Quit preening. We got work to do. And about that hat…”

“I know, don’t put it on the bed.”

Butch and Zeeb glanced at one another, and intoned simultaneously, “Yellowstone.”

I gaped. “How did you—”

“We get a lot of guys coming here who watch that show,” Walt informed me.

“It must be good for business,” I reasoned.

“It’s sure good for property prices,” Butch remarked. “They’ve soared since that show aired.”

“But that’s gotta be good for the economy, right?” I persisted.

“Wrong. It ain’t good when folks starting out can’t afford to buy their own place, because a lot of city folk push the prices up by coming out here to ‘live the dream’, Butch air-quoted.

“It’s too early for this shit,” Zeeb complained. “Get off your high horse, Butch.”

“You know I’m right.” Butch gave me a nod. “You go ahead. Paul’ll sort you out with a horse. I need to check in with Teague before we get started.”

I followed Paul out of the bunkhouse, and we crunched our way over to the stable.

“Welcome tomyworld,” he said as we stepped into the light, airy space, filled with the smell of wood, straw, and horses.

God, I’d missed that smell. “Been a while since I was last in a stable.”

He smiled. “Don’t suppose they have many of these in San Francisco.” I watched as he went from stall to stall, checking on each horse, stroking their noses and talking quietly to them. Paul was a handsome guy, tall and willowy. His hair hung in a glossy black curtain down his back, and a cream choker lay snug around his throat.

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