Page 6 of Wild Heart
“You have to be kidding me!” I check and double check the network. “I have no WiFi or cell service here… I really am staying in the arsehole of nowhere.”
6
“Easssy, girl.”Clays smooths his hand down the mare’s hefty hindquarters leading to her lower tendons. “She’ll be good as new after a week’s stall rest.”
I hand him the anti-inflammatory gel. “You look dog tired, buddy.” He had a hint of bluish bruising under his eyes and disheveled hair. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were up all night with a woman.”
He stoops over, squirts a blob of clear gel onto his palm and massages the swollen knee down the tendon to the hoof. When he’s done, Clay backs away from the copper colored horse to traipse behind me with heavy steps to the far side of the round pen. I turn around and swat his bicep, winking playfully. “Well, buddy?”
“Iwasup all night - with a sick pup. I found her roamin’ all alone in town. Poor thing was starvin’ and in real bad shape.” Clay unhooks the latch to the gate. “Once I get her all fixed up, she’ll be needing a home.” He looks over at me with one raised suggestive eyebrow.
“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that. I ain't got time to train up a young puppy. I’ve got my hands full with this place.”
“I’ll find her a home, don’t worry about it.” By the way Clay shrugs, I can tell he’ll keep the dog himself if he can’t re-home it. A cell phone buzzes from his back pocket. He nods curtly, turns away and answers the call while wandering back to his pickup.
The guy has the biggest heart, but he can’t hold on to a woman for anything. It probably has something to do with his long working hours. After the nightmare that was Kelsey, I understand why he keeps himself guarded.
Clay heaves an aluminum case into the back of his truck and waves over at me. I know he’s needed elsewhere for an emergency or castration. My balls wince at the horrific thought. It doesn’t bother me when he drives off without stopping for a while. I have chores to do, and old man Sawyer should be on his way with my cleaner.
I don’t have the patience to devote all my time to a clueless hazard pup, and I sure as hell don’t have time to show a city teenager the ropes either. If the kid can’t clean for shit, I’ll have to cut my losses and let her go.
The pen comes into view as I return, and I throw a rope around the mare’s thick brawny neck to lead her into the barn. The sun has risen like a big ball of flames high into the clear blue sky. It’s going to be hotter than hell today, and I have a fence to fix at the far end of our land that’s a priority.
A cheery whistling tune of Thunder Rolls signals the arrival of the boss, my dad. “Hayden, what did Clay say about Blaze?” He rounded the barn door and pocketed his hands. “She gonna cost me more money?”
Some say I look like the tall, muscular man standing opposite me, only I have my late mother's green eyes and, apparently, her roguish smile. For a man in his early sixties, the guy looks pretty darn buff. He puts his good looks down to honest hard work, plenty of beer and, lately, a lot of sex. All the Taylor men are broad and tall, with my older brother Beau being an inch or two taller than me.
“It’s nothing serious. Stall rest and a rub. Don’t bother yourself about it.” We don’t have to worry about money. The ranch always churns out a healthy annual turnover, and all the ranch hands are paid well at the end of each month. This is just Hank, being, Hank. He’s backed off from running of the ranch since Verlyne came on the scene. He spends more time smooching in his truck than herding cattle. I’m patiently waiting for the day he hands the whole heap over to me because Beau sure as hell ain’t coming back to help.
“You heard from Beau, lately?” He grabs a push broom and starts to sweep. Since we were old enough to lift a broom, he always told us that ‘trouble seeks out an idle man’. The only time we rest is when all the chores are done and done right. I don’t resent his wild days that he is currently enjoying, the man’s worked hard his entire life, and since my mom died, he’s raised two teenage boys into hard-working men.
I slide the stall door closed and make sure the latch is in place. Blaze searches for her treat, but I don’t have any apples with me today, so I scratch the white star between her deep brown eyes.
It feels like Beau has been away from home far too long. Being a rodeo champ, he constantly chases the adrenaline for his next big win. The guy is a legend on the circuit and is renowned for the permanent string of buckle bunnies cheering him on wherever he goes. He’s a Heartville celebrity, and I guess in the rodeo arena he is too. If I wasn’t so caught up in the ranch, I’d probably be jealous of his wayward gypsy lifestyle.
“He was on the phone with me a few nights ago. Sounds like he’s on a winning streak.” I check my watch. “You won’t see him back here for a few months. What about Verlyne? You two still heavy petting?”
The sweeping stops, and he rests his arm on the pole. “Sure are.” A broad smile stretches wide. “She’s a good woman, Hayden.”
“Sure seems to be entertaining you.” I smirk.
His raspy laugh holds dirty tales. “Verlyne knows stuff. Real good stuff.”
I’m glad he’s happy, it’s been a long time coming. Verlyne is darn pretty too, for an older woman, and a good few years younger than my dad. I see his face change every time he speaks about her, and I can quite honestly say she makes the best blueberry jam I’ve ever tasted. I’d marry a woman who could make jam as well as her.
He taps the wiry bristles free from wood shavings and looks out to the pasture. “You need a hand fixin’ the fencing?” Propping the brush against the wall, he swaggers to the tack room with the usual noticeable limp. His heavyweight tan saddle stands out from the rest. It was crafted to withstand the demands of daily ranch work with a little more padding for comfort.
“Sure thing. I’ll need to take the truck so I can bring the nail gun and a roll of barbed wire,” I call out to him.
“I’ll ride out and meet you there. I don’t wanna be cooped up in the truck on a day like this.” Truth be told, I’d rather saddle up and ride out too, but I have to take tools and supplies instead. A horn honks twice. “That’ll be, Sawyer. I'll go say hi to the new kid before I head out.” He limps out of the tack room and heads into the morning sunshine toward the house.
“Right, wait up.” Once I get the kid settled in the house, then it’s back to business.
The sun hits my face, and I lower the brim of my hat to shade my eyes. Old man Sawyer’s truck is pulled up close to the house. He hops out of the driver's seat and slams his door shut. For a man up in his years, he sure as hell has some gusto about him.
“Did you get the part for the hay bailer, Sawyer?” My dad holds his hand out and greets him.
“Yep.” Sawyer is a man of few words.
