The Clydesdale swerved in midstride, cutting short his circle.
Just great. Turning back to the cowboy, she found him staring at her his eyes appearing almost silver. For shit’s sake. “Is it hooked?”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He dropped the harness and stalked to the fence.
She met him there. “No, I’m trying to keep this big boy from destroying the corral.” She climbed over the fence and picked up the harness then dropped it on the handle bars of the machine. “Open the gate.” She didn’t wait to see if he would help. She just put the ATV in gear.
Come on, Cyclone, skip the break in the fence and get to work.
The cowboy opened the gate, so she drove the machine into the corral. Turning off the engine, she jumped to the ground and rattled the harness just as Cyclone approached the opening with the broken rail.
His ears perked up as he slowed, coming to a stop next to her. “Good boy. You ready to work?”
The Clydesdale’s big brown eyes followed her as she started to lift the heavy harness onto him. When the weight was lessened, she nodded to the cowboy who lifted the other half onto the big brute. Once she had Cyclone hitched, she strode to the ATV and sat in the seat, hoping the harness would hold. Leaving the engine off, she shifted the machine into neutral. “Okay, Cyclone. Let’s bring this baby to Cole’s house.” Clicking her tongue, she grabbed the handles wrapped in reins and the horse started to walk.
When the horse exited the corral, towing the ATV with her on it, she finally gave the cowboy her attention as he closed the gate behind her. Nice ass, not uncommon among the cowboys she’d worked with. He was clean shaven, broad at the shoulders and slender at the hips. He wore a long sleeve shirt, which she’d find stifling in the dry heat, though many landscapers did that. She assumed it was to avoid burning from the brutal Arizona sun.
He came up next to her as Cyclone plodded along. “So, what’s this? Some kind of therapy?”
His eyes were actually a blue-grey and at the moment filled with curiosity as opposed to censure, which is what she would have expected from a stranger watching her over the last twenty minutes. Now that she had a good look at him, he reminded her of some of her military buddies before they’d all headed to the Middle East and changed. He had less swagger than the typical cowboy and a more commanding presence, but he was just as handsome as the rest at Last Chance. What was it, a prerequisite to work there?
She forced her attention back to his question. “Not exactly therapy. Cyclone likes to work, which means he likes to pull heavy objects. If he’s left to his own devices for more than three days, he lives up to his name.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “And I’m the one left with the repairs.”
He glanced back toward the broken fence of the corral before facing forward again. “Cole told me when he offered me the job that there would be some odd personalities.” He chuckled. “I thought he meant the ranch hands.”
She smothered a smirk. There were definitely some interesting human personalities on Last Chance, but the horses beat them out. “Where’s Manuel?”
The cowboy grinned, and we he did his straight white teeth showed, making him appear very relaxed. “Grandson due any day and his daughter offered him and his wife to move onto their ranch in New Mexico. Nothing stronger than family ties.”
Right. Family ties. In her family, those ties had been as likely to hang her as help her. “I’m Riley O’Hare. I do a bit of everything around here. To look at this place right now, you’d never know there are actually eight others involved with this rescue operation.”
He reached over as he walked along next to her. “I’m Garrett Walker. I’ll be the one bringing you horses.”
She shook, his grip firm, not crushing, but the rough texture of the skin on the back of his right hand told her he had some serious scars. “Speaking of horses, what’s the story with that one?” She nodded toward the trailer in front of them before she directed Cyclone to turn right down the dirt road that would take them to Cole’s house.
“Just old. If you can stop Cyclone here for a moment, I’ll take her out and walk with you. She’d probably like to stretch her legs.”
She pulled on the reins for her answer.
Garrett strode over to the trailer and unlocked the back. Yup, definitely a more military bearing. That had to be why she felt comfortable with him. She hadn’t been with fellow veterans in two years. On one hand, getting together with her former unit members was like old home week, but it always brought back bad memories, so she’d avoided the last two “get-togethers.”
She watched the new hauler’s moves. He was confident in his actions and comfortable around the horse. Probably grew up with horses. Yet when he’d leaned in to shake hands, she caught a scent of aftershave with an almost clove-like scent. Most of the cowboy’s she’d run to when all cleaned up smelled more like soap or fresh linen. She liked the richer smell Garrett wore.
He walked a pretty buckskin quarter horse out of the trailer toward her. Yeah, totally confident and seriously had the face of an actor, more of a Captain America look than a GI Joe.
At the new horse’s presence, Cyclone’s head swiveled bringing her focus back to him. “Give her a nice welcome, boy, but don’t be getting any ideas.” Not that she needed to worry. Cyclone had the weirdest crush on Tiny Dancer, who was the frailest mare on the ranch.
He brought the horse over and allowed Cyclone and her to get acquainted.
“What’s her name?”
“Lady, though I was told the old man who owned her started calling her Old Lady about seven years ago.”
Old Lady? “Was that because Lady is getting older or because the owner was from the seventies?”
Garrett chuckled.
The sound reminded her of the rest of the men on Last Chance. They were always in a good mood. She found that seriously strange. Garrett was also just as good-looking and appeared to have the typical cowboy manners. Not bad overall.
