“I’ll get your new horse settled in,” Spencer said, giving the blue roan a scratch on her fuzzy neck before sliding off the halter to hang it on the hook just outside the stall door.
“Oh, she’s notmyhorse.” Nana Jo wiped her palms together.
“I thought you just purchased her?” Spencer asked, perplexed.
“I did, but not for myself.”
His confusion only deepened.
“I’m looking to add a couple new horses to our lesson program.”
This was news to Spencer. Not that his grandmother was in the market for a string of beginner horses, but that they even had a lesson program to begin with. He knew that the guys over at Major Hart Mountain Sports often used their horses for trail rides and expeditions for their customers, but as far as Spencer was aware, they weren’t in the business of giving lessons.
Yes, Nana Jo was getting up in years, but she was sharp as a tack with a memory like a steel trap. That was one thing that hadn’t faded with age. Could she really be this confused?
“We don’t have a lesson program, Nana,” Spencer pointed out.
After a quick circle to inspect her new digs, the mare made her way to the pile of hay and rooted around with her muzzle before taking in a big mouthful.
“We’re going to start one,” Josephine said.
Spencer gave his grandmother a long look. He’d come in with the capital to save the ranch earlier in the year when his beloved nana was faced with the threat of losing it, but that didn’t mean he had majority say over the daily operations. He still deferred to his grandmother when it came to things like that. She’d lived on this soil for so many years, had so many memories, and weathered so many storms that he could never pretend to match her wisdom and experience with the land and its legacy.
“We’re starting a lesson program?” he confirmed the question, making sure to keep the doubt out of his tone.
“Yup. Lots of kids around here want to learn to ride. Doodlebug is a good little pony, but they outgrow him too quickly.”
Doodlebug wasnota good little pony, but Spencer let that comment slide. “When are you going to find the time to give lessons?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
Between guest bookings at the house, the trail ride scheduling, and the other unknowns that inevitably popped up at the ranch, Nana Jo had a more jam-packed schedule than most women half her age with full-time careers and families. Spencer couldn’t fathom how adding weekly lessons would even fit in her already overflowing agenda.
“I can make time,” she protested.
“There are only twenty-four hours in the day. Half of ‘em used up already,” Spencer pointed out, voicing his doubts. Never mind the fact that Nana Jo hadn’t actually been on the back of a horse in months. She could give lessons from the ground, he supposed, but he wasn’t even entirely sure his grandmother was physically fit enough for that.
She swatted her hand in the air, shooing Spencer’s comment away like a pesky fly. “I always find a way.”
Truer words were never spoken.
“So, what are you thinking of naming her?” He had to change the subject because he knew there was no changing his grandmother’s mind.
Nana Jo paused, considering the question as she looked over the new mare, now settling into the comforts of her stall.
“How about Bluebell?” she suggested.
“Bluebell it is,” Spencer agreed with a smile. “Suits her perfectly.”
As if in agreement, the horse nickered softly, her gentle sound echoing in the now quieted barn.
She really was a beautiful mare, and something about her made Spencer think the horse had seen her share of trials and triumphs. He’d been around horses long enough to know they deserved every ounce of respect he could offer, and he sensed this mare deserved his tenfold.
And he couldn’t understand why, in that moment, he felt a pang of familiarity, as if the mare’s presence triggered memoriesof someone else. Someone with a similar resilience and quiet strength. Someone who—like that mare—had captivated Spencer from the first moment he saw her, stirring something within him that he just couldn’t explain.
CHAPTER 2
“Do you think today we can pet the horses?” Mia’s hopeful voice broke the quiet of the car. Trinity flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror, the reflection of her five-year-old daughter coming into view.
“Not today, sweetie.” She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel as the tires navigated the bumpy road leading toward Josephine Major’s ranch. The tread gripped the slick gravel, skidding slightly before finally gaining traction. The snow from earlier had already melted to create slushy puddles in the driveway, and Trinity attempted to dodge the big ones that threatened to splash the underbelly of her car.
