Page 3 of Walking the Bird

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Cade adjusted the ball cap atop his head, resting his boot-covered foot along the bottom board of the fence surrounding the treatment pen. Leaning over the top rail, he listened as the ranch started to come to life. Cade loved everything about his life in the mountains. From the majestic way the sun filled the early morning sky with color, to the crisp morning air, despite the ever-present smell of horse manure intermixed.

He’d grown up on one of the largest horse ranches in Montana, working alongside his parents and five brothers, breeding and selling champion Quarter horses. While he enjoyed most every aspect of the work they did, Cade harbored a desire to do more than foster a well-bred horse. He wanted to make a difference somehow, use those incredible creatures for more than a show piece, or an investment to brag about. Cade would never forget the day he received a call from his brother, Ryan, asking if he’d be interested in a sit-down with Kennedy Michaels, the wife of a friend of his, who was looking for someone to take over an Equestrian therapy center she’d inherited. Cade hadn’t hesitated and jumped on a plane, falling in love with the center the moment he laid eyes on it.

Glancing down at his hand, the silver skin of a scar which ran from the knuckle of his left thumb to the middle of his forearm, a reminder of the single pitfall he’d landed in since arriving in Colorado Springs.

The grunt of a horse pulled Cade from his unwelcome trip down memory lane, to the resident pain-in-the-ass, and self-appointed barn boss, who poked his head out of his stall.

“I hear ya, old man.” Cade pushed away from the fence, his boots making a hollow sound against the wood of the barn floor with each step he took. Flipping the bill of his hat to the back he prepared to greet Brutus, a Clydesdale he’d rescued from a ranch after the owner died unexpectedly in his sleep. The large horse had been skittish, taking a huge bite out of more than a handful of people who tried to wrangle him.Cade used his experience from working with wild horses back in Montana to calm the giant horse down.

Reaching into his pocket, Cade wrapped his fingers around the handful of sugar cubes he’d grabbed from the kitchen. Brutus would turn his head if offered carrots or apples, but the clumps of sugar were his favorite.

Flattening his palm, Cade smiled as Brutus brushed his lips across his skin, collecting the square confection into his mouth.

“I’m taking a vacation, Brutus.” Cade wiped his palm against the fabric of his jeans before trailing his hand down the center of the horse’s face. “I leave next week, and I need you to keep an eye out on this place.”

Brutus let out another grunt, his ears flicking as he pressed his head into Cade’s face. This was their ritual; every morning since Brutus came to live at the center, the pair shared the first few minutes of the new day together.

“It’s time I shook off the dust of the past and get back to living. A few days in the sun might just do the trick for me.”

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