Page 20 of Catch Me, Cowboy
Ty showered quickly, cranking off the water before it started to go cold. Three days in and he was no longer sore in places he hadn’t been sore in a while. He toweled off quickly, slipping into his jeans and beat up moccasins before slinging the towel over his bare shoulder. When he stepped out of the house, he shivered as the much-warmer early evening air hit him. It had to be twenty degrees colder in the house than it was outside. He’d just opened the trailer door when he heard the distinctive rattle of a horse trailer coming up the drive.
No doubt the horse that had Les concerned.
He and the old man were finally to a point where they were talking while they worked and Les wasn’t happy about Shelby taking on the horse arriving that evening—the horse that was here now.
“Money and contacts are no reason to take on a nine-year-old rehab case,” he’d muttered more than once that day as they’d starting stretching wire along the first section of completed posts and braces.
“He might just need a firm hand.” Ty had offered. It wasn’t unusual for inexperienced owners to let their horses take control.
“I heard about this horse. In the feed store.” Les had shot him a dark look and shook his head.
“The matter just… came up?” Ty asked.
“No. I asked if anyone knew these Barlow people. Someone knew the horse. He’s trouble.”
All the more reason for Ty to be there when the beast was unloaded. He went inside and pulled on his shirt then slapped his hat over his damp hair.
A shiny, blue truck and matching trailer pulled to a stop near the corrals. Shelby was already halfway down the walk when Ty rounded the corner of the homestead house.
A man and a woman got out of their respective sides of the expensive truck. The guy looked like he was trying very hard to look working class. He had on a chambray shirt—carefully pressed—and jeans, but that was where working class stopped and money began. His boots were lizard, his buckle sterling, his hat custom. Ty knew a lot of working guys with those same outfits, but this guy’s stuff was all shiny new.
“Hello,” the woman called to Ty as she got out of the rig. She pushed her very straight long, chestnut hair over her shoulder and started toward him. Her mile-long legs were encased in tastefully ripped and mended jeans, which were in turn tucked into thousand-dollar boots. Her shirt was simple red-plaid flannel, rolled at the sleeves, but her hat was a multi-x beaver.
Money, money, money.
Which was a good thing for Shelby—unless this horse was as bad as Les feared.
“Hi,” he replied before gesturing toward Shelby. “Your trainer.”
“Of course!” She and the guy both turned and shifted course toward Shelby.
The guy extended his hand. “Paul Barlow. My girlfriend, Blake.” Who apparently didn’t have a last name.
Handshakes were exchanged and then Shelby introduced Ty. More handshakes.
The trailer started rocking as the horse inside started pounding the floor with his front feet.
“He’s nervous,” Blake murmured as she glanced at the trailer, looking almost proud. “He’s so beautiful. I can’t wait to ride him with my friends.”
Shelby smiled noncommittally.
“Do you want some help unloading him?” Ty asked her in a low voice.
The trailer continued to rock as the impatient animal did his number inside.
“Is he tied?” Shelby asked Paul.
“My man couldn’t get the job done, so I had him leave him loose,” Paul said.
My man?
“If you want to back the trailer to the gate, we’ll just unload him straight into the pen. Stop about four feet away.” Shelby looked expectantly at Paul, and the guy went a little pale before drawing himself up a little taller.
Blake laughed. “We’re game, if you want to take a chance with your gate. We just bought this gooseneck.” She smiled at Ty. “Maiden voyage.”
Paul did not appear to enjoy Blake’s candid comments, but Ty did. Funny how it was possible to really dislike a guy within seconds of meeting them. And from the way Paul was eyeing him, it appeared the feeling was mutual.
“I’ll do it,” Shelby said.
