Taking the Reins(17)

“You didn’t hold off. You came racing back here like your pants were on fire.” The reason for which, of course, was being soothed to sleep by the housekeeper upstairs. But neither of them mentioned that. “I have to do it, don’t I?”

They might have been apart for the majority of a decade, but he could still read her mind. “Yeah. You do. He’s the one for the job, Peyton. You know I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” she argued back. More from wanting to defend her brother—even against himself—than anything. But when he raised a brow and shook his head, she let her shoulders slump. “Well, you could. If you wanted to. You owe me.”

“Could,” he admitted, “but shouldn’t. Training isn’t my style and I don’t have the clout to raise the M-Star’s reputation. I’ll help. You know I will. Breaking, working, doing what needs to be done. But the official spot of trainer is not mine to grab. And I told you before, we’re not going into what I owe you. I had to go. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I couldn’t be here with our mother. I’m sorry that hurt, leaving you behind. But what was I supposed to do, drag a teenager behind me when I left?”

She gritted her teeth at the reminder.

“Not to mention, I’ve got as much say in the running of this place as you do.”

Her blood started to boil, but she kept her mouth shut.

“So I could try getting ahold of Bea. And convince her to go in with me on it. And I’d just end up hiring him without your say so.”

It was a sharp slap of a reminder that, while she carried the emotional weight of the ranch on her shoulders, she only had so much power in the actual running of it. For now, anyway.

Peyton nodded tightly, battling back resentment.

“So what do you propose to do to earn your keep?”

He grinned at the reminder of their childhood. One of Emma’s Emma-isms was “Earn your keep.”

“I figure I’ll be heading up the personal relations and marketing department.”

Peyton’s eyebrows shot up. “Personal relations and marketing department?” she repeated. “We have one of those?” She rolled the chair back a foot and looked under the desk. “Where have they been hiding?”

“It’s a small department,” he said with a smile. “Department of one.”

“We don’t need marketing and PR. We need—”

“Customers.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s typically how businesses stay in business. Customers.”

“And where are you expecting to find these customers?” Trace leaned forward, forearms on his knees, hands dangling loosely. “What kind of rider would you say the majority of our horses are being sold to?”

“Right now?” She did quick calculations. “Probably hand horses. Or to weekend riders. Kids with their first horse.”

“Exactly. A weekend rider is great and all. Easy sales, probably. But they’re not paying the bills. Are they?”

She shrugged. “Not completely, no.” And it burned her to admit that.

“But who will pay the bills? Think about it, Pey. Who pays top dollar for their ride? Who goes for the quality and doesn’t mind paying the price?”

“Rodeo cowboys.” She knew it. But how did Trace know what a kid pony would go for instead of . . . damn. “He talked to you, didn’t he?”

Trace slid an innocent mask over his face. “He who?”

She sighed. “If Red put this in your mind, I know he’s right. I just don’t have to like that he’s right.”

“What are your plans?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. “I like the business we do now. It’s safe. And my thought was getting more of it, so we could get our feet back under us before making any changes . . .”

“But?”

She sighed. “But I know we need to go big. Take the chance. I want to expand and capture more cowboys. I want to breed rodeo stock. The horses that come from long lines of buckle winners. A ranch that trains the champions. But we don’t have the reputation yet—”

“Yet.” With a coy smile, he sat back, crossed his left boot over his right knee. “But you’ll have Red, and you’ve got me.”

“And you are . . .”

He held up his hands. “Word of mouth.”

“You’re a mouth, all right.” She threw a pen at him, but the idea was already starting to take root. “Exactly what are you proposing?”

“I have contacts. I wasn’t the biggest, baddest mo’fo on the circuit. But I knew people. They knew me. I wasn’t a top winner, but I was consistently in the money. And people know that. They see that consistency and they like it. They envy it. You can have a lucky weekend and take home the belt. But if that’s all you have to show for your career . . .”