“So,” Maddie said, propping her chin on her hand. “What’s the plan after we buy you all the clothes?”
“Not sure yet. Maybe I’ll join a cult.”
She grinned. “Girl, we’re Iron Valor. That’s about as much of a cult as you can get. And my big brother is the guru.”
I let myself smile. “True. Also, I’m suddenly flush, so I want to spend money irresponsibly.”
Maddie’s eyes lit up. “You finally broke the trust?”
“I did,” I said. “Harper handled all the legal crap, and Mom can’t say no anymore. I am an heiress with absolutely no plan and even less self-restraint.”
“Fuck yes, Brie. Blow it all on shoes. Or, better yet, invest in crypto. Make it a zero-sum game.”
I shuddered. “Nope. I want things I can touch. Like a pair of jeans that doesn’t scream ‘lost in time.’ Or maybe a jacket.”
Maddie sipped her coffee. “Or you could buy a horse. Gunner could keep him for you.”
My stomach did a weird little lurch. “He could be my stable boy?”
She cackled. “You wish.”
The food arrived, and we ate like wolves, hands greasy and hearts lighter. The talk moved on to the dance studio, the local politics, a rumor about the council president’s son being caught with a prostitute (news: he was the prostitute). We made a plan to hit at least three shops before heading to the feed store, where Maddie said she needed to buy Parker’s little dog Rocket a new toy.
It was on the way back to the house that I saw him.
Not Parker’s dog, but Gunner. He was across the road, in the big corral behind his house. At first, I didn’t realize it was him; all I saw was the horse, jet black and furious, slamming its head up and down with a wild, terrified beauty that made me want to both run away and paint it forever. There were a couple of ranch hands on the rails, but Gunner was alone in the ring, boots braced, hands steady on the rope. He looked exactly like every cowboy fantasy you could buy at a gas station in Texas, except this was real, and it was dangerous.
Maddie noticed me staring. “That’s Gunner’s job, you know. He doesn’t just look hot in plaid for Instagram. He tames them. Breaks them in.”
I blinked, still watching as the horse spun, its hind legs kicking at air. Gunner stood firm, all muscle and patience, not moving until the animal tired itself out.
“What do you mean, his job?” I asked genuinely puzzled. “I thought he was a cattleman.”
She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Well, he’s that too. He’s a rancher. He owns the ranch, so he does it all. That’s how he makes his living. It’s just like when the men you’re used to put on a suit and goto the office. He puts on his jeans, boots, and hat, and breaks horses some days.”
I flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s just… I thought he worked for the ranch. Like, as a manager or something. I didn’t realize…”
“He owns it, but he also works it.” Maddie sounded proud. “The ranch has been in his family for generations. Gunner owns this part of it. He provides for the pack, though. Basically keeps the entire pack’s cattle in line also, plus any wild stock that gets brought in. This is what he’s good at.”
I tried to process the idea of someone liking their job or even being good at it. The only “work” I’d ever done was the odd gallery internship, where my most crucial skill was not spilling kombucha on the prints. The rest were high school performances for a disinterested audience of teachers.
We’d gotten out and made our way over to the fence. I leaned on the railing closer than I should have, mesmerized. Gunner was talking to the horse now, voice low and calm. The animal’s wildness dialed down, a slow wave of respect radiating out from the man to the beast. There was something almost holy about it—the way he could take violence and turn it into something cooperative.
Maddie nudged me. “You okay? You’re staring.”
I shrugged, voice gone small. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She laughed. “You’re from Texas, babe. You just never saw this side of it.”
Gunner didn’t even look up. For a second, I was pissed. Was it possible to be this obsessed with someone who couldn’t be bothered to make eye contact? Then I realized he was probably just trying not to get trampled. Still, a girl could hope for a glance.
The horse finally stopped fighting. Gunner let it circle, then leaned over, stroking its neck with slow, sure hands. The animal shivered, sweat running in rivers down its sides, but it let him. When he slid out of the saddle, it lowered its head, letting him pat the soft spot between its ears. The ranch hands started clapping, and even Maddie joined in.
“He’s good,” she said, almost reverent.
“He is,” I echoed, not sure if I meant Gunner or the horse.
He lingered in the corral, wiping his hands on his jeans, talking to the others. I watched the muscles in his arms tense and relax, the way he threw his head back when he laughed, the way every motion seemed completely unselfconscious. There was a power in it I’d never known before, a sense of purpose that made my own life feel cartoonish by comparison.
