Page 21 of Cowboy Dreams

“I don’t know. The grey seems a bit slow.”

“Yep. Might get him for a trail horse later. He’d be good for beginners. But you’ll outgrow him.”

I watched as he looked back and forth between the mares where they stood tied to the fence. The chestnut was a couple years older than the palomino and a sight more settled, but I could tell where his eyes kept wanting to land.

“Tell us more about the palomino,” I called to Browning. He came over and ran through her pedigree, what he’d trained her on so far, that she was a good keeper and not to let her have too much fresh pasture because she’d run to fat. He’d named her Aurora, but called her Ro for her stable name. Seemed as good as any.

“You think Ro would work for me?” Sylvester asked me.

“Sure do. She’s got some sense, but she’s only six, so she’ll learn your ways easy. I wouldn’t have put her in the final three if I didn’t think you could handle her.”

He nodded and turned to Browning. “I’ll take Ro then, and that black gelding with the star.”

“Whoa, now,” I told him. “I said you were doing good, not that you were ready for a horse like Donner.”

“Not for me. For you.”

“What now? You can’t buy me a horse.” No matter how my heart leaped, becausedammit.

Sylvester glanced at Browning. “Excuse us a minute.” He jerked his chin toward the gate and I followed him out under the shade of a tree. “Listen up,” he began.

“Nope. No. You don’t get to tell me what to do at times like this.”

“Shush.” He moved closer and his presence overwhelmed me, the musky sweat and aftershave and long, tall, handsome man. “This is purely practical from my point of view.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You told me I need to ride the ranch, figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Whatyou’redealing with,” because I wasn’t ready to be dragged in that deep yet.

“Sure. But I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at. You had to tell me how to check a fence rail. So I need you to ride along with me and explain the good and the bad and the fuckin’ ugly, and help me figure out costs and remedies. You can’t exactly hack over on one of your boss’s horses on your day off, can you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I need a horse for you to ride, and if I’m going to buy one, why not buy the one that fits you best.”

“Because he’s expensive!” I broke out. “Because you can get a hack suitable to carry me for three thousand, not eighteen thousand.” There might be a bit of wiggle room in Browning’s prices, but not likely much. We were coming into winter soon, and the market was soft. Feeding over winter cost some, so a breeder might sell lower this time of year, but not to the tune of fifteen K.

“Buying cheap is a bad bargain,” Sylvester intoned. “I own a watch worth that much, and it’s sitting in a box in my drawer.”

“Might not want to blab that about,” I said.

He waved an impatient hand. “What I mean is, I can afford it. Plus I want photos for our website, and Ro plus Donner in the pasture will look great. You riding on Donner as well, not some nag.”

“You want my picture?”

“On your horse, our Circle K cowboy experience. Yeah.”

“I don’t—” Man, I knew I should keep saying no, but part of me wanted that real bad. Not just Donner but the way he kept saying “our” like he meant it. He was putting the cartwaaayahead of the horse, or maybe the horse ahead of the barn, whatever. But when his eyes lit up and his voice went deep and intense, I had a hard time saying no. “If this doesn’t work out, you have to promise me you’ll sell him. Not give him to me as a gift or something.”

He held out his hand, little finger extended. “Pinky swear.”

“What are you, ten?” But I hooked my finger in his and that electric contact between us was there, even in the touch of his smallest finger. “Okay.”

Sylvester grinned at me then, wide as the Colorado sky, better than I’d ever seen. I’d do most anything for that grin. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go buy some horses.”

Chapter Four

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