He found her watching him closely.
“I promise I won’t let Flint go for less than he’s worth.”
She nodded.
Truman looked at Pope. “You guys better head out. You don’t wanna miss the old ranchers fighting over bloodlines.”
Summer looked delighted instead of concerned. “Oh, now I really want to go.”
“They get vicious.” Truman gave her a ghost of a smile that hadn’t appeared until now.
The excitement in her voice sent a flicker of heat to Pope’s chest. For so long her life revolved around work and survival and making sure Ben had enough. It felt good to give her more,even if it was just spending a day beside him doing something as ordinary as going to a horse auction.
Pope opened the passenger door for Summer, and she threw a wave at Truman before she climbed in.
The drive took a little over an hour through winding Wyoming roads and long stretches of ranchland rolling beneath bright blue sky. Summer spent most of it asking Pope how bidding worked and what buyers looked for in a horse.
“I hope Ben’s not too upset he won’t see Flint again,” he said after a minute.
She squeezed his fingers meshed with hers. “He liked Flint, but I can’t tell how into horses he is at the moment.”
He glanced over at her. “If he ever gets interested, it could be a good family project. Get Ben a horse and teach him how to train it.”
She met his stare, her own eyes big and soft with emotion. Then she cracked a smile. “I’m sure he’d name it something terrible.”
“Absolutely.” They shared a grin.
An image filled his mind, of Ben racing around the ranch on a shaggy little horse as Summer yelled at them both to slow down.
Summer looked out the windshield again, smiling softly now. “Honestly…it’d be good if Ben got interested in this stuff. Everyone on the Black Heart…they were so welcoming when we were there for the party. I’d like to spend more time with them.”
Pope glanced toward her.
She wasn’t talking about hobbies.
She was talking about roots.
Belonging somewhere.
By the time they reached the auction grounds, the place looked like half the state of Wyoming came with livestock trailers.
Rows of trucks and horse trailers stretched in every direction. Dust rolled through sunlight in swirling patches. Country music crackled from old speakers mounted somewhere overhead and ranchers moved between pens carrying paperwork and foam cups of coffee.
Summer stared wide-eyed through the windshield. “This is insane.”
“Guess everyone had the idea to get here early and avoid the crowd.”
“How do we even find parking?”
“Mostly prayer.”
She laughed as Pope eased the truck slowly between crowded rows of trailers until he finally found a spot. The second he killed the engine, noise hit them fully.
Horses whinnying. Auctioneers warming up over speakers. Goats screaming somewhere nearby like tiny demons.
Summer looked delighted by all of it.
Pope found himself watching her instead of the crowd.
