Chapter Twenty-One
Hunter walked slowly into the barn, Perdie plodding along behind him. They’d had a good session and a tough workout, which left the horse in a happy state. Hunter just felt like he was slogging through mud, but he’d felt like that for days now. Ever since …
Nope. Not going there.
Somehow, someway, he needed to get those feelings and thoughts in a box and keep them there. He just hadn’t figured out how to do that yet. Zoey was everywhere and in everything. He couldn’t drive into town without thinking about her working the festival and smelling like honey. He couldn't go to the arena without the image of her roping a steer in his head. And forget about the barn. Not to mention he was down to two hats that she hadn’t seen him in or commented on. Maybe shopping would cheer him up. Nah, that was dumb.
“Thanks for calling, Brandon.” Dad hung up the phone just as Hunter entered the barn. He turned, folding his arms.
Hunter lifted a shoulder in defense. “I don’t need a lecture.”
“You’re not getting one.” Dad unhooked Penny’s breast collar and cinch as Hunter was still tying up the horse. “But you are going with me to the auction.”
Hunter sighed. “What’s the point? I’m going to be lucky to train the horses I have before spring.”
Dad snorted.
Hunter hurried on, “Besides, I have too much to do here.”
“Hogwash!”
Hunter wrinkled his forehead. “What are you, a hundred? No one says that—ever.”
Dad shook his head. “I’m saying it right now.” He took off the saddle and put it on the saddle stand. Next, he came back for the blanket. He paused to put his hand on the horse’s side to see if she’d cooled down enough to put her in the stall. Satisfied, he reached to untie the reins.
“Hey.” Hunter ducked as the horse’s head turned.
“You’ve been going with me to auctions since you were potty trained. Get yourself in the truck, son.”
Hunter glanced down at his boots. “There’s a guilt trip and a half for ya.” He kicked a piece of straw before heading out to the truck. Dad was right. Auctions were their thing. Sure, his siblings went every now and again, but growing up, the auction was his special time with his dad. It was when he’d learned how to look at a horse’s lines, recognize weaknesses, and sense personalities, all while nursing a can of soda and trying to outgrow his father’s shadow.
“You’re optimistic, taking the trailer along.” Hunter kicked one of the tires. “Weren’t you the guy who told me not to take a trailer to a horse auction unless you had a plan in place?”
“Maybe I have a plan,” Dad replied.
Hunter grunted, his interest almost piqued.
They were in the truck and headed out of town in record time. Hunter turned away from the window as they passed Carroll property. He had nothing against the family, wished he could have called Brandon a brother-in-law, in fact—if not just a brother. It was too painful to look at the house and the barn and remember the times he’d shared with Zoey.
At the auction, there were a bunch of costumed animals, their owners playing up Halloween to try and get a sale. Some were fun, others just desperate. A hippie flower power horse? Really? Maybe Hunter was pessimistic about everything lately. He ran his hand down his face. He really needed to get a hold on things.
“Here.” Dad shoved a cold soda can into his palm.
“Thanks.” Hunter popped the top and took a sip. The carbonation burned its way down the back of his throat. “Makes ya feel alive,” he rasped.
Dad laughed and slapped him on the back. “I have a feeling today is going to be a great day for you.”
Hunter eyed him. “Do you know something I don’t know?”
Dad nodded. “But I’m not tellin’, so don’t ask.”
Hunter let out a deep breath and scrunched down in his seat to wait out the bidding. Several horses went by, one dressed as a ballerina. He almost smiled at that one, thinking Jud’s daughter would love it.
“Folks!” called the announcer. “We have a late addition to the lineup today.”
All around them, people sat taller and took interest.
“This horse is not on your program,” he continued. “But it’s a beautiful all-around horse. The previous owner has won several barrel races on him and kept him fit as a fiddle.”
