The man folded his forearms over the saddle horn, tipping his Stetson. He grinned, sun glinting off the silver conchos on his belt.
“Agent Bowman,” he called with a polite nod.
Rawley lifted his chin. “Stringbean.”
Skylar cleared her throat, stepping forward. “Hi, I’m Skylar McCoy.”
The young cowboy pushed himself upright in the saddle, hat brim dipping in greeting. “Ma’am, I’m Bobby Gibbs, and this is my girlfriend, Rachel Norton.” Rachel offered a shy smile.
Skylar heard Rawley snort beside her. She glanced over, catching the corner of his mouth twitching.
“He’s so damn proud of that,” Rawley muttered, nodding toward Bobby.
Bobby sat astride a glossy Paint gelding, shoulders shaking with laughter. Skylar followed his gaze to Rachel, perched confidently on her own Paint with a flowing mane.
“Rachel, how are you?” Rawley asked.
Rachel brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’m wonderful, Agent Bowman,” she replied.
“Good. We’re heading back to the barn. If you two want a break, now’s your chance.”
Bobby kicked free of his stirrups and dismounted. He reached for Rachel’s hand, but she slid gracefully to the grass on her own, smoothing her jeans.
Skylar approached the Paint, running a finger along its coat. “Your horse is so pretty.”
Rachel beamed. “Thanks. Yours is gorgeous, too. Paints are my favorite.”
“One of mine for sure,” Skylar said, smiling.
Rawley turned and started to saddle the horses, tightening the cinch on them. When Skylar moved to help, he shook his head firmly. “I’ve got it. You just stand there looking beautiful.” He winked when she smiled at him.
Moments later, saddles secured, Skylar and Rawley mounted. They touched their hats to Bobby and Rachel, then trotted off along a winding trail through tall grass and wildflowers.
After a few minutes of steady canter, Skylar looked at Rawley. “So… are Bobby and Rachel friends of yours?”
“Not really. Bobby worked at the ranch for a while, on community service.”
Skylar frowned. “Community service? He was arrested?”
“Yep. For horse theft.” Rawley’s grin was wry. “It’s a long story.”
Skylar studied his profile. “I have time.”
Rawley sighed and settled in his saddle. “Rachel’s mare, the Paint, was stolen by Bobby. Her stepmother surrendered the horse to a sanctuary for biting, without telling Rachel. When Rachel got home and found an empty stall, she was furious.”
Skylar narrowed her eyes. “That gentle mare wouldn’t bite without reason.”
“Exactly.” Rawley’s voice tightened. “Rachel told the agent working the case, her stepmom would hit the horse and threatened to get rid of her if she misbehaved again. So, whenthe mare nipped, probably frightened by another blow, the woman handed her over. No proof of abuse, so that was that.”
Skylar clenched her jaw.
“Heartbroken,” Rawley went on, “Rachel couldn’t bear it. Bobby decided to ‘rescue’ the horse from whoever’d bought her. He and his friend Brent Tillman broke through a fence and stole the Paint. I worked on that case with the agent. But the new owner, Sydney Wright, insisted community service was better than prison. Brent spent his time working at her ranch. Bobby worked here.”
“You let a horse thief work for you?”
Rawley shook his head. “I wasn’t happy about it, but the agent brought him here and I said I’d give him a chance. I just figured that my manager would have to deal with him, not me. Trust me, no one took their eyes off him, but Todd told me every day that Bobby worked his ass off.”
“Why do you call him Stringbean?”
