Page 26 of The Cowboy's Redemption
Pastor Harm Addams, from the small Methodist church where Otto had arranged to be buried, stopped by. He’d buried Tanner Shannahan in the church graveyard, too, but Dana had no interest in reminiscing with the pastor, so she’d taken Tanoa out for a ride.
It was just as well she’d gone off on her own, because Ford Shannahan arrived not too long after Pastor Addams departed.
Ford shared his family’s blond, Nordic good looks, but that was as far as the familial resemblance went. He was a big man, with none of the Irish affability his surname implied, or that his siblings possessed, but every stitch of some marauding Viking ancestor’s terrifying charisma. If any neighboring villages around Grand were ever plundered in the dead of night, fingers would point his way.
But he was an excellent horseman. Otto’d had nothing but the greatest respect for him, and that said a lot. And if Ford was curious about the horse trailer with living quarters parked next to the barn, he gave no indication.
In his usual abrupt way, he cut straight to the reason behind this sudden desire for a social visit. “You should have called me and told me Otto was sick,” he said to Levi.
It wasn’t quite an accusation, but it came close.
“Otto didn’t want anyone to know,” Levi said.
“I’m not anyone.”
No, Ford wasn’t. But he didn’t like being helpless, and he’d taken his brother’s loss hard, and Otto was sensitive to such things.
“Neither am I,” Levi said. “I only found out because he couldn’t get out of bed a few days ago.” He left out the part where it was Dana who’d found him. Dollars to donuts Ford had noticed her horse in the field, and if he wasn’t going to bring it up, then Levi wouldn’t either. “How did you find out? He only passed away this morning.” Even by Grand standards, the news had traveled fast.
“George Cooper called me.”
Made sense. Otto had likely left Ford a horse, too.
Ford’s grim, stoic face unfroze long enough to expose a glimmer of grief. “I’ve been too busy to visit him lately. If I’d known, I would have made time.”
Ford managed the Grand Master Brewery and Taproom in town. Levi had heard whispers of a side hustle he had going, although not what it was, and no one had been brave enough to come right out and ask. Whileprofessional hitmanwas a stretch, it didn’t defy credibility, either.
“I’m sorry,” Levi said, which as far as adequate responses went, scored roughly a zero.
“Me too.”
Ford didn’t stay long after that. “Call me if there’s anything I can do to help out.”
Dana returned close to suppertime, face pink from the sun, dark curls tangled in the strings of her hat. Lady, her ears attuned to her owner’s return, sidled up to the fence in search of the sugar Dana kept in her shirt pocket.
Meanwhile, the stud in the neighboring pen was focused intently on Lady. Levi had taken the two bred mares out of the pen the previous day, and now, the stallion had turned his attention to the newest arrival.
That Lady was approaching estrus was not in question. Levi had caught her winking at the stud a few times already, and urinating in front of him, both indicators that she was receptive. The stud’s restless interest warned Levi that Dana should either let Lady be bred or remove her from the source of temptation.
He’d bring it up with her later, over supper. Right now, she’d been gone for hours and had to be hungry.
He’d pillaged the Endeavour’s cookhouse when he went to find Dallas, so fresh bread, cheese, and cold cuts, along with double-chocolate brownies for dessert, were on tonight’s menu. He spread a blanket on the grass and laid out the food. The weather had been good all week, so they’d taken to picnicking next to the horses, near enough to the cabin if Otto should need them, but far enough away that they all got a break.
Dana joined him on the blanket after she’d rubbed Tanoa down and turned her loose in the pasture. The sun, exhausted, began a drawn-out, bedtime routine of tucking itself in beneath red and gold blankets.
Opportunity versus regret.
It had been a tough day. The next few days would be tough, too. Levi didn’t want to think about Otto, or how another good friend had passed from his life. He preferred to think about Dana and how to help her get through another funeral in Pastor Addams’s church, but addressing it head-on would only make her defensive. She’d withdraw and bury her feelings. Her public face would emerge. He’d learned that much about her.
Distraction was a much better approach.
“If you don’t intend to race Lady anymore, why not breed her while you’re here?” he suggested. “You won’t have to sell her, not if you don’t want to, and this way, you’ll get a good foal out of her.”
Dana’s sandwich hovered an inch in front of her mouth. She lowered it without taking a bite. Temptation and conflict played hide-and-seek on her face. “Isn’t that called stealing?”
“Technically, I suppose. But only if the new owners make it a problem, and I can’t see why it would come up.” Otto’s family would have no way of knowing when the breeding occurred. Besides, if they had complaints, they’d be about the horses Otto had given away—but it might be best not to bring that to her attention. “Better to do it now while Lady’s health is good, and with such a good-natured stud, who’ll go easy on her. She isn’t young anymore.”
Some stallions got overly rambunctious, and even though a few days of rest had done Lady good, and no one looking at her would suspect she was arthritic, the damage was there.
