Page 12 of Loving Carter

When Bill repeats his name, Carter blinks. “I’m sorry. What?”

Bill shoots him the sort of frown that would squash most people, but Carter’s unfazed. He simply smiles. “Sorry, Bill. I’m afraid I drifted off there. You have a lot more energy than I do, and frankly, I don’t know how you do it. Me? I’m worn out. Now, what did you ask me?”

That compliment is a load of malarky, so I brace myself for Bill’s reaction. But rather than being annoyed, the older man also smiles. Carter’s flattery has worked again.

“I was asking if you had ponies the children could ride,” Bill says.

Uh-oh. I know this isn’t going to go well.

“I have horses,” Carter says slowly. “Not ponies. See my horses are—”

Denise raises her hand and waves it in the air. “Carter? Carter?”

Carter stops talking, turns his head, and looks at the librarian. “You don’t have to raise your hand, Denise. What do you want to know?”

“Don’t you have baby horses the children could ride? Aren’t those ponies?”

I admire Carter’s composure. I know he gets the pony question a lot from guests on the ranch, so this is probably the millionth time he’s answered it. Still, he keeps his expression calm.

“Ponies are different than horses,” he explains. “They aren’t foals. I only have horses on the ranch, so they’re all—”

Denise raises her hand again but then doesn’t wait to be called on. “Are they good horses? Or are they too wild, like at the rodeo?”

“All my horses are broke,” Carter says, a whisper of a frown forming on his forehead. It’s so small, I doubt if anyone else in the room notices it, but I do.

“I know very little about horses,” Denise says. “Is broke good or bad?”

Even though I don’t ride, I understand what Carter’s saying. I glance around the table and realize a few people seem to understand him.

“Calling them broke isn’t the same as when a glass is broke, Denise,” Hugh says. “They’re broke as in ready to ride, so it’s good.”

“Great. I don’t want the children riding on horses that are broke unless they’re supposed to be broke,” Denise says, sitting back in her chair, looking happy.

“Carter would never put anyone in danger,” I assure her.

“The horses have to mature and then be trained,” he says. “After that, I have the experienced riders on them for a year or so before I let the new riders on.”

“So you don’t have baby horses? Little ponies?” Denise asks. “Only older broke ones?”

I bite back a laugh. Not because Denise doesn’t know about horses but because little cracks of annoyance are starting to appear in Carter’s façade.

To his credit, Carter takes a deep breath, then says with sincerity, “Yes, you’re right. I only have older broke horses and no ponies. My horses won’t work for the expo.”

“What do the children ride at your camps if you don’t have ponies?” Denise asks Carter.

“They ride horses. But it’s different. In that case, it’s a small group riding together. At the business expo, you’re talking about a huge crowd of people, with all the children clamoring to ride. It won’t be safe for the children. Moreover, I won’t put my horses through that stress.”

Although his tone hasn’t changed, it’s obvious he’s firm in his position. Good for him.

“Okay.” Bill sighs, then abruptly brightens. “Hey, rather than having ponies, why don’t we have the fire department display one of their fire trucks and the police department display one of their cars? I bet the kiddos would love crawling on them.”

“That’s a great idea,” Denise says. “What does everyone else think?”

When the group agrees, Bill smiles broadly, making him look a little like Santa in this light. “I’ll talk to the departments and see what they think.”

“Skylar, you can give out food samples to the people,” says Denise. “And Ty, the café can also give out samples. Will that be enough food for everyone, or should we see if food trucks can come? The food trucks can offer complete meals rather than just samples.”

Her suggestion meets with loud protests, mostly from Ty. “I want people to come eat at my café.”

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