Page 3 of The Devil in Blue Jeans
Jaxon merely raised an eyebrow in response. His father did have a sixth sense when it came to horses, and he knew he had inherited it too. Becoming a third-generation breeder wasn’t what he’d planned to do so suddenly, but he would never let his family’s ranch break apart and lose its legacy.
He wasn’t even sure if he’d had a chance to grieve his father’s passing, or properly say goodbye to the life he had before he was weighed down with responsibility for the ranch. The moment his father died, Jaxon had dived into the business and never looked back.
The doctor started tending to the mare, and once Jaxon could see she was in good hands, he said to Casey, “I need to go check on the others in the herd. Give me a shout if you need me.”
“Will do,” Casey replied.
Jaxon gave a quick thank-you to Dr. Newman before giving another click of his tongue. The colt cantered away across the meadow full of wildflowers as they passed the wide spread of contented horses grazing on the grass and growing as they should.
As he and the horse ventured over a hill, Jaxon caught sight of the ranch with its breathtaking beauty and felt a warmth fill his chest, regardless that home looked unrecognizable without his father there. He’d grown used to a lack of female presence when his mother died from ovarian cancer when he was eight-years old, but his father’s absence felt...heavy. With a sigh, he gently patted the colt’s neck before settling into an easy walk, letting out some slack in the reins to allow the horse to cool off after their long ride.
Down the hill, a cozy three-bedroom house sat diagonally across from the barn. The pine logs and fieldstone structure had a rectangular sand ring in front for training, and a few large grassy paddocks for the horses. After his father’s funeral at the ranch that brought in hundreds of horsemen to say their final goodbyes to a man they respected, Jaxon moved from his cabin on the northern part of the land and into the house that his father had built.
As Jaxon arrived at the barn, Gunner Woods walked across one of the fields toward him, wearing tan-colored chaps over his blue jeans. A black cowboy hat was perched atop his stylish blond hair and his bright blue eyes glinted with amusement.
Gunner had lived in Nashville for a short time, pursuing his music career. When he’d come back to town after his album failed to deliver, Jaxon had hired him as a trainer without much thought and Gunner had moved into Jaxon’s cabin. Their shared high school memories forged a bond between them that could not be broken, and Gunner’s soft approach with young horses had always impressed Jaxon.
“Everything okay?” Gunner asked when he reached him.
“The mare and foal are fine. Doc is with them now.” Jaxon dismounted his colt and strode halfway to Gunner. “This guy is ready to be sold.”
“Good news all around,” Gunner said, propping himself up against the fence post.
“Done with him?” Wayne called, coming out of the barn. The gangly eighteen-year-old had gotten his start at the farm like any other kid. He’d stacked hay bales, cleaned the stalls and groomed the horses.
Jaxon let go of the reins. “That’s it for today,” he answered. “We’ve got somewhere else to be now.” If only Wayne was old enough to come along too.
“Where’s that?” Wayne asked, taking the horse’s reins over his head.
Jaxon shot Gunner a grin. “We’ve got a date with some cold beers.”
“Ah,” Gunner said with sudden realization. “The bar reopened today, didn’t it? I completely forgot.”
Jaxon couldn’t forget. Before his father’s death, Jaxon had owned a bar on Main Street. He’d opened the bar in the evenings and pitched in at the ranch during the day for a few hours. But after his father died, Jaxon had known he had to devote himself exclusively to ensuring their family business survived, so he’d sold the bar.
He was proud of what he’d brought to the town—a place where the locals felt like they belonged. It had been seven weeks since the town had a legitimate bar as opposed to just restaurants that served alcohol, and Jaxon could practically taste the crisp craft lager on his tongue.
He was also itching for a fun night out, something he hadn’t had in months besides a campfire and beers at the ranch. Word in town was all the twenty-somethings had been complaining about Jaxon’s bar shutting down, considering the closest bar catering to the younger crowd was an hour away in a larger city. He was not the only one looking for a new hot spot to cut loose. “I have never been so ready for a damn beer,” he commented.
Wayne mumbled something inarticulate about being young and wished them a good time as he led the horse away.
Jaxon chuckled, hearing tire treads crunching against gravel behind him. He looked over his shoulder right as Eli Cole pulled up in a truck with a horse trailer attached to it.
His childhood friend had moved away to Seattle, where he’d owned a carpentry business before settling back home after his sister had passed away. Jaxon and Gunner had never experienced having siblings but found family in each other over the years, and Eli had been there right next to them.
Eli eventually parked the truck and trailer next to Jaxon’s vehicle and got out. His dark hair poked out from beneath his worn cowboy hat while his wise green eyes glimmered from underneath. “Delivery went smoothly,” he remarked in his gravelly voice.
The latest delivery was a five-year-old filly Eli had trained himself. Their three-man team operated flawlessly, as they’d all grown up on this ranch, working their summers and weekends under the guidance of Jaxon’s father.
“Up for a beer?” Jaxon asked Eli.
“Been waiting on this all day,” Eli replied with a smirk. “Let’s get out of here.”
Jaxon was sure that luck was finally on his side today.
Until he arrived at the rustic town square of Timber Falls twenty minutes later, and his mood took a nosedive.
The Old West vibe of the bar’s storefront was gone, replaced by sleek black modern windows. After selling the bar seven weeks ago—choosing to know nothing about the buyers aside from their promise to keep the place a bar, so the town wouldn’t lose its hot-spot—he hadn’t come to town. The renovation would have ripped his heart out. The only consolation was knowing that the space he created that gave the hardworking people of Timber Falls a place to unwind and enjoy would continue.
