Sam doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. They can be.”
That alone should be enough to send a shiver down my spine, but when he says it, there’s no fear in his voice. Just respect.
“They’re born to buck,” he continues. “It’s in their blood.Their job isn’t to be gentle. It’s throwing riders and earning their keep.”
My gaze stays on the mare. Powerful. Defiant. Unapologetically wild. I kind of admire her, in a way.
“So not the petting zoo type,” I murmur.
Sam chuckles softly. “Definitely not. But if they let you close? That’s a kind of trust you don’t take lightly.”
I nod, feeling the shift in energy as we approach the barn.
This isn’t just the working side of the ranch. This is the edge of something untamed.
Sam steps into the barn first, his boots crunching over the frozen threshold. Before disappearing inside, he swings the wide metal gate closed behind him, sealing off access to the pasture.
I glance at Phern, brows lifted. “Why’d he do that?”
“So they don’t get curious and try to investigate,” she replies, matter of fact as always.
I blink. “Wait. That’s a thing?”
She snorts. “Oh yeah. One snuck in behind me when I was ten. Spooked me so bad I spun around and caught a headbutt straight to the face.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
“Broke my nose,” she says with a shrug, like it’s just a minor inconvenience.
She walks toward the barn, and I follow, carefully watching where I step. The packed snow here is more uneven, dotted with hoof prints and deep grooves. Everything about this space feels more worn-in. More unpredictable.
Phern tosses a casual glance over her shoulder. “I’ve broken my arm, my leg, and my nose, all thanks to horses.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’ve also been kicked, bit, and thrown more times than I can count.” She flashes a grin. “But hey, character building, right?”
I shake my head, incredulous. “You should come with a warning label.”
She laughs and pulls the barn door open. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Inside, it’s darker than the other barn. Quieter. Colder. The air smells stronger, sharper, more alive. I step in cautiously, not sure what to expect.
“I’m over here, Charlotte,” Sam calls out from deeper inside the barn.
His voice echoes softly off the wooden walls, and a smile curls at my lips as I follow the sound, stepping around a row of empty stalls until I spot him.
He’s leaning against a shovel, one hip cocked lazily, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show the corded muscles in his forearms. At some point, he tossed his coat and gloves to the side, saying he was getting hot. He’s not the only one. There’s a smear of dirt across his cheek and snow still dusting his shoulders. Somehow, he looks like every cowboy fantasy I never knew I had.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, watching me approach.
“Oh?” I ask, my smile widening.
“Charlotte’s a lovely name,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But it’s too long.”
“Is it now?”
“Yeah.” His eyes flick down my body and back up again, slower this time. “I was thinking Charlie suits you better.”
