“I can’t let it happen.” Cole’s voice was filled with self-recrimination. “These horses depend on me. I need to get my act together.”
Ah, nowthatshe understood. How many times had she said that to herself? She smirked as she headed for the doorway. “Good luck with that.” Not hanging around to hear his reply, she strode down the hall and out onto the front porch.
The sun, though starting its descent, was still strong with no clouds to steal its summer rays.
It was still better than Afghanistan. She let her gaze roam past the barn to the desert beyond, scanning for movement. It was a habit born out of survival. The Arizona desert was far different and far safer than the one overseas, but she couldn’t help it. She doubted she’d ever stop watching.
Or checking. Her hands automatically went to her pockets, taking inventory by feel, another habit she’d developed while deployed. One lip balm, packet of ibuprofen, and mints in the front pockets, SOG pocket knife and bandana in the back pockets.
Satisfied all was where it should be and the horizon was safe, she jogged down the steps. She had come a long way in the last few years. No more nightmares of being buried alive. No more binge eating or talking to herself. She was almost normal. Maybe in a few more years, she’d stop checking her supplies, too.
Stepping into the slightly cooler shade of the barn, she heard the two other women in the stall on the right. She felt more comfortable around them than around Lacey. Leaning on the door, she found Dr. Jenna examining the mare, Whisper standing out of the way.
“Did you learn anything?”
Whisper kept her gaze on Lady. “She doesn’t think she’s old. But you were right, she’s definitely competitive.” The woman shrugged. “It feels like she’d had a good life so far.”
“Does she miss her companions?” She hoped it was bothering her more than it did the horse that the two geldings wouldn’t arrive for another couple days.
Whisper’s mouth quirked up. “Actually, she likes having time away from them. I get the feeling they bother her sometimes.”
At that news, she relaxed. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to give her some girl time then even after they arrive.”
“Good idea.”
Dr. Jenna returned her ophthalmoscope to her black bag. “She’s a very healthy mare for her age. I just need to check her medical record, but unless she’s behind on any shots, she’s as healthy as Cyclone.”
“Only with less issues.” Riley couldn’t help adding. After all, the big guy was Dr. Jenna’s.
Jenna shrugged. “If Cyclone didn’t have issues, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.” She picked up her heavy bag. “That’s what Last Chance is for, horses with issues.”
Riley opened the stall door so the two women could exit. Maybe that’s why she was here so long. Last Chance seemed to be the perfect place for a person like herself…a person with issues.
Chapter Three
Garrett sat at the bar of the Black Mustang and nursed his beer. Tomorrow, he’d drive out to Cave Creek to pick up the other two horses from Wyatt, who would probably follow him back to Last Chance and make sure Riley gave them everything they needed.
He didn’t envy her that. Just from what he’d seen, Wyatt was overly picky. The only reason he’d been patient with the man is the pain of loss in his eyes. It was one of the reasons he was sitting at the Black Mustang, hoping to catch Cole when he came in before he and his men took over the pool table in the back. Cole, who was very by-the-book himself, might have a difficult time with Wyatt.
But that wasn’t the main reason he waited. He’d become even more curious about Riley O’Hare, especially when she’d invaded his dreams last night. Calling what he had a dream was being generous. It was like an old-fashioned acid trip. It included Riley riding a winged Cyclone, encouraging him to pull Cole’s new house up into the sky. While he’d been herding wild mustangs directly into the barn, which had grown to five stories high inside and looked more like a parking garage. He’d jerked awake just as Cole’s house landed on the open top story of the barn.
At least there’d been no fire. No trees either. That fact alone had him feeling like a normal human being. He’d had “normal” dreams for almost a year now, though none quite as odd as last night’s.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey, Walker! Isn’t this a little late for you to be out? What happen? You take a nap today?”
He knew that voice without even looking. “Mason.” Turning around, he pushed the firefighter away. “What are you doing here? Mommy lift your curfew?”
Scott Mason, who was the size of a pro linebacker, laughed. “I thought you’d moved up north.”
“I did, but I’m back.”
“Man, you look good. From what I’d heard, you were at death’s door.”
Obviously, Cole hadn’t said anything. He shrugged. “Exaggeration and hearsay.”
Mason, who sported a bald head and a mustache now, moved a stool out of his way and stood against the bar. “Hey, Cutter. Two drafts. One for my friend here.”
The bartender with the earing nodded as he moved for the cold glasses.
