CHAPTER1
DAWSON
The bronc didn't trustme yet, but she would.
I stood in the center of the round pen, arms loose at my sides, watching her circle.She was a three-year-old bay with a white blaze and enough attitude to make her worth the trouble.Her ears flicked back and forth, tracking my position without committing to acknowledgment.That was fine.Trust wasn't something you could demand from a horse—or anyone else, for that matter.
The morning air bit at my face, sharp enough to sting.February in Montana didn't mess around.The sun was barely up, painting the snow-dusted pastures in shades of gray and pale gold.My breath came out in puffs, and somewhere behind me, one of the barn cats was complaining about the cold from its perch on the fence rail.
I took a half step to the left.The mare's stride hitched barely, her attention narrowing on me.Good.She was starting to tune in.
“That's it,” I said, voice low and even.“Just you and me, babe.”
She snorted, shaking her head, but her pace slowed.Another few minutes and she'd be ready to turn in and face me properly.I wasn't in a hurry.The best work happened when the animal set the tempo, not the other way around.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.I ignored it.
The mare's inside ear tipped toward me, a small concession.I waited, counting her strides, letting the rhythm settle between us.When she finally turned her head, I shifted my weight back and angled my shoulder away.It was an invitation, not a command.
She slowed, then stopped.Then stood there blowing hard, her sides heaving.
I waited.
My damn phone buzzed again.
The mare took a short step toward me.Then another.When she was close enough, I reached out slowly and let her sniff my glove.Her nostrils flared, taking in my scent, deciding whether I was worth the risk.
“Yeah,” I murmured.“I know the feeling.”
She didn't pull away, so I ran my hand along her neck, slow and steady, feeling the tension in her muscles start to ease.This was the part that mattered—the moment when a horse decided you weren't a threat.Everything else built from here.
My phone went off a third time.Fuck.I gave the mare one last pat and stepped back, letting her process.She stood there, watching me with those big dark eyes, and I felt the familiar satisfaction of progress.Small, quiet, earned.
I pulled out my phone as I headed for the gate to see who the hell felt the need to get ahold of me so damn early.I had two texts from Slade and one from Ruby.Didn’t anyone in this town sleep in on the weekends?
Slade: Rodeo committee approved the stock contract.Official notice coming this week.
Slade: Training timeline's tight.We need to start running numbers on which animals are ready.
I read them twice, then pocketed my phone and latched the gate behind me.The news wasn't a surprise.Slade and I had been working toward this for months.But seeing it in writing made it real.The rodeo was happening, and the Wilde Creek Ranch was providing stock.Broncs, bulls, the whole operation.
It was a good opportunity.The kind that could establish us as a serious outfit, not just a working ranch that happened to have some rough stock on the side.But it also meant timelines, expectations, and a hell of a lot of coordination.
I headed toward the barn, my boots crunching through the thin layer of snow.The sun was higher now, bright enough to make me wish I’d grabbed my shades before heading out so early.Inside, I recognized the familiar sounds of morning feeding.Hooves shifted in stalls and my favorite bronc let out a low huff while waiting impatiently for breakfast.
I checked the bay mare's feed chart on the clipboard by the door, noted her progress, and started measuring out grain.The work was automatic and methodical.I liked it that way.There was an easy simplicity to mornings like this—me, the animals, and a list of tasks that made sense.
My phone rang.Ruby’s name and number flashed across the screen.I answered on the third ring, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear while I hauled a water bucket.“Yeah.”
“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
“It's six-thirty.Did someone die?”
“I've been up since five.If you want sympathy, call someone else.”Ruby's voice was brisk and amused, the way it always was when she was about to rope me into something.“Did you get Slade's texts?”
“Just read them.”
“Good.So you know we're on a clock.”Papers rustled in the background.Ruby had her fingers into everything and coordinated efforts efficiently and without apologies.“I'm working on logistics for the rodeo, and I need to know your stock numbers by end of week.”
