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He chuckled at my irritation. “I don’t know how many of the guys wrote home about Eva Bryant when she showed up in Kötzting, but if I were you, I wouldn’t let her slip away.”

Lucky didn’t know about my plans beyond Baker. At this point, I had no intention of moving Phantom from Birkstrom Ranch, but I couldn’t get involved beyond that. Our futures were incompatible.

Each day, my own departure grew closer. I could rest easy knowing that Lucky and Eddie would protect Eva and the farm, but leaving this place would cut my own heart deeply.

I’d committed to Kenneth, and my conviction didn’t waver from the bigger mission. Lucky was a prime example of the men we were trying to protect. He’d waited months for additional surgeries but never had his sight restored. It had left him without a job and without hope, until the opportunity at Birkstrom came along.

No matter how alluring Eva Bryant or how endearing Birkstrom Ranch, my fate rested three thousand miles to the east.

Thirteen

Eva

MAY 18

I poured everything into Phantom, working with him from sunup to sundown, especially since Annie had cheerfully taken over feeding the chickens, collecting eggs, tending to the goats, and growing her cat collection.

Eddie and Lucky seemed to find a never-ending well of projects that kept them occupied, and to my relief, they made use of the scrap piles that Gramps had amassed around the farm rather than needing to purchase new items. That man had never thrown anything away—supplies, horses, or people.

I’d sold the tractor to a nearby farm, which bought me another month to keep Victor and the bank away. The new auction rescues were settled in and steadily eating their way to full health. I couldn’t train them until their bodies were stronger, which meant I was at least two months from being able to turn a profit. I had one more lead for a mare that needed a special hand from the Carson ranch, but even they were tight on funds, and we settled on a low rate.

Warren and Peter helped with Phantom, both keeping close to me after that horrible day where so many things had gone wrong. Each day, Phantom made a bit more progress. We were able to halter him and lead him around calmly. We’d gone on long walks through the trees, and he didn’t startle at every rustling leaf.

Now, however, he’d picked up a habit of kicking anytime he sensed someone or something behind him. He’d kicked at me twice now, thankfully missing. Two fence posts hadn’t been so lucky. If I didn’t cure this behavior, there’d be no chance of getting him into a trailer or taking him to local shows.

“What exactly are we doing?” Warren asked as I handed him a burlap sack and a rope.

We walked to the middle of the covered arena, and I pointed to a beam in the center of the overhead trellis. “You think you can loop the rope around that and hang the bag about three feet off the ground?”

“Probably.” His tone was teasing.

I left and collected dozens of old horseshoes, a few hammers, and some metal brackets. Anything I could find to fill that bag. In the distance, Annie skipped around in the sunshine with her animal flock in tow.

I returned to the arena to find the rope and bag hanging in the center, the loose end of the rope in Warren’s hand.

“Horseshoes?” he asked.

“Anything heavy or metal will do.”

Warren’s brow furrowed as I dumped the armful of horseshoes into the bag with a clatter. He held the rope taut.

I pointed to a metal ring at the side of the arena. “You can tie off the slack.”

Warren crossed his arms and studied the bag. “Another Bill trick?”

“If it works.”

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers of electricity down my spine, but I pushed the feeling aside. This happened more often each day.

“Do you want me to get Phantom for you?” he asked.

I nodded, enjoying that he felt more confident with his horse and that I’d been able to prove my methods to this point. We had just over two weeks left of our one-month arrangement, and Warren hadn’t indicated yet whether Phantom would stay at Birkstrom Ranch or if he’d be finding another trainer. He hadn’t talked about his plans much at all.

I’d need to ask him outright. The first local show was in three weeks, and I wanted to use that as a chance to prove that Phantom could be a star. The regional competition was another month beyond that. The national-level event was in Pomona, California, in late August. A tight deadline, but waiting until next year was out of the question. My farm, my home, could be lost by then.

It was this horse, or it was never going to happen.

Warren and Phantom walked through the open gate of the arena. The colt shone in the sun, eyes wide and neck arched as he took in his surroundings. In the past week, he’d put on some weight and his coat looked healthier, smoother. He’d need another month to truly look in prime condition, which meant the first few shows might be at risk if the judges were displeased. Every judge was different.