Page 19

“Just about every trainer I came across. Greenly, Kellogg, Harding, Stanton.”

I bit back a smile and ran a saline rinse over the cut. “How did this happen?”

“Well, we had to leave in a bit of a hurry from Stanton’s place.”

“Stanton’s a good trainer, but he has a short fuse.” I pressed the gauze to the wound to dab it clean and wipe away the ragged edges.

“I thought I could just overpower Phantom to get him in the trailer.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

“I think you know.” He flinched. “Turns out the metal doesn’t give way when a horse slams you into it.”

“Gramps always said that forcing a horse to do something was about as productive as asking a snake to fly.”

“Sounds like a wise man.”

“He was.” I reached for my needle and catgut. “I’m going to put a few stitches in. Do you want a local anesthetic?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lucky to only end up with bruises and a cut. I’ve seen far worse accidents with a trailer.”

“I thought we’d reached an understanding a couple times, me and Phantom,” he said. “He spooks easily, retreats into that wild state. Kenneth Roland said he’d been ignored and mishandled since he left Germany.” He winced slightly as I threaded two small stitches at the center of the bite. He looked at the wound and shook his head. “Tore up my favorite shirt too. That troublemaker.”

The admiration in his tone sent warmth all the way down to my toes. I put ointment over the cut and wrapped it. We’d need to talk business, and then I was itching to get back out to Phantom.

Something caught my eye at the edge of his shirtsleeve—another scar, still fresh. It sat next to one that was a few years old at least. A bullet wound.

Without thinking, I went to his other arm and lifted the sleeve, seeing similar fresh wounds. I lifted the back of his shirt and he protested, but I was too far into my training to stop. We didn’t ask patients where they were injured in the heat of a battle; we just did our own observation and evaluation.

His back told me the story of his time in Europe and of the past few months. A web of soft, pale scars had long healed, but a smattering of fresh and aged bruises indicated just how rocky things had been with Phantom.

“All of this and you haven’t given up on him?” I breathed.

He pulled away, lowering his shirt and catching my gaze. “I won’t ever give up on him.”

Lightning shot through my veins at the resolution in his features.

“You said it yourself when he was born,” he said. “He’s special. That once-in-a-generation mark and one of so few Polish Arabians left on the planet.”

“I’m so glad you were that other bidder.” Emotion cut off my words. “I thought I’d lost him forever.”

A long pause stretched between us.

“I just wish I’d found you in Virginia,” he said with a soft laugh. “It would have saved me a few bruises.”

I set my bag aside. “We should probably discuss a fair monthly rate for training and boarding.”

“Whatever you charge is fine.” He stood, shoulders straight like any soldier. “In fact, I’d prefer to pay a premium since Phantom is so volatile.”

I wasn’t going to take advantage of his generosity, but I had to keep the ranch afloat. It was my responsibility now.

I pulled out an old, blank contract that Gramps had used over the years and filled in the terms, then presented it to Warren, who signed it after a quick read.

“He’s not the worst case I’ve seen.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the countertop. “Will you be returning to Pennsylvania? How is it best to contact you?”

“I had thought to stick around for a while if you don’t mind.” He hesitated. “I’d love to learn a bit of this famous Birkstrom magic.”