Taking the Reins(22)

“Hmm.” Far from sounding convinced, Morgan fell back in step with her.

“While you’re here, you mind checking on a colt?”

“You’re just using me for my medical bag,” he said, his fake pout making him look like an adorable little boy rather than a grown man.

“You bet. I’m a user, baby. Now go get your sexy black bag from your truck. I know you have it with you. I’ll meet you in the stall.”

With a push, he laughed and loped off easily, long legs carrying him over the distance of the yard with a speed she could only envy.

Being short was so annoying.

More annoying was the fact that she’d missed walking to the stables with Red. After having him around all morning, she was used to his questions, his comments. His presence. Not just annoying, but stupid. She had zero right to get attached to the man like that. It was business between them and nothing more.

A woman in a man’s world didn’t have room for flings with coworkers. It never ended well. And if the word got out, nobody would take her seriously. Already she had her youth and the ranch’s current reputation against her. Personal issues couldn’t be added. There was no margin for error anymore.

As she stepped into the stable and saw a number of fuzzy heads pop out over their stall doors to greet her, she knew she’d do almost anything to keep their family ranch afloat.





Just before dawn was his favorite time of day. When things were quiet, people were still asleep, and only the animals could hear him. The air was cooler, sweeter almost, as if the lack of activity kept it pure, and the soft light from the rising sun made everything look a little more romantic.

Not that he was about to admit any of that. A poet, he was not. But as Red dressed for the day, he knew it didn’t take a poet to appreciate the fact that he all but had the entire ranch to himself. Which was why he was always up early. Partly to have the day to himself. Some people needed coffee to get their day started right. He just needed a few minutes of quiet.

Of course, since it was his first full day at M-Star, he wouldn’t mind the time alone to get his feet under him, either.

But, to his shock, as he headed to the stables, he realized he wasn’t the only one up that morning. Not by a long shot. The stables buzzed with activity. The day workers were already bringing feed and water to the horses. Two were being led to the hot walk ring.

In the barn, he found the man named Tiny, a man likely in his late forties and starting to develop the middle age spread around his waist, brushing a mare, crooning to her like she was a lover he wanted to coax back into bed rather than a seven-hundred pound temperamental horse trying to take a chunk out of his butt for his trouble.

“Now, sweetheart, you know it feels good,” he said, his voice still gravelly with sleep. “Why do we gotta go through this every morning?”

Red leaned against the outer stall post and watched as his competent hands worked quickly, efficiently, getting the job done while nimbly avoiding the snipping teeth.

“Got your hands full,” he commented idly when Tiny caught sight of him from the corner of his eye.

“She’s got fight in ’er. But I’ve always been partial to the ones with fight.” Tiny smiled and patted the mare’s neck, jerking his hand away a second before teeth clipped where it had just been. “Destiny here’s one of our best breeders. Puts out the feisty fillies and the arrogant colts.”

She wasn’t much of a looker as far as coloring went, but Red could always see past that. Sometimes the sheer spirit of a horse mattered most.

“People always up and around this early?”

“Mostly. Work goes in shifts. You got the few of us up here now, getting the day started. Few more show up in a couple hours, then we’re off and the latecomers stay through the day.”

“You like working for M-Star?”

Tiny gave him the side eye. “This an interview?”

“Not at all. Trying to get a feel for things.”

Tiny was quiet for a moment, the only sound the shuffling of the horse’s hooves in the hay and the brush smoothing over her flanks. “Working for Peyton’s mama was a hell of its own kind, for just about everyone. But her daddy was always a good man, good to the staff, though I think he had more heart than business sense. The horses were his life. The books, not so much.”

It jived with everything else he’d heard about the ranch.

“I like working for Peyton. Kid’s nearly half my age and knows what she’s doing. Got ideas to expand, wants to make this place a real draw. Not just survive.”

Red nodded. “I’m just gonna observe, find the rhythm for the day.” He wasn’t asking permission, but smiled when Tiny nodded and went back to cooing at his four-legged female companion.