“I think something’s wrong.”
“Wow, big surprise. Here’s what’s wrong.” Joie yanked the latigo strap from the tall blonde’s manicured hand. “The saddle’s loose because you forgot the saddle blanket.”
Chelsea Rae popped her wrist against her forehead. “Crap! You’re right.”
Joie gathered all the patience she could muster, plucked the saddle from the horse’s back, and waited for this new hire, one of Clint Ladner’s choices, to lift the saddle blanket into place.
“A little higher,” Joie instructed.
“What?”
“Move it up. You have it too far down on the horse’s back.”
The girl wearing blue jeans distressed to the tune of several hundred dollars huffed. “What’s with the attitude? Do you think you can quit being such a witch?”
Joie held her breath for several seconds. Self-control had never been one of her strong suits and right now she wanted to beat this girl with a stupid stick. And what was with the two names anyway? Couldn’t she just go by Chelsea, for goodness sakes?
From outside the stables, she spotted Clint crossing the yard and heading their direction.
She slowly exhaled and buried her head against the horse’s front shank and unhooked the breastplate from the saddle. She wanted to tell the girl she’d quit being a witch when she quit being dumb as a broom. Instead, she re-threaded the cinch through the buckle, and said nothing.
“Oh, Clint. Hi!”
Joie looked up just in time to catch Chelsea Rae push her ample chest forward and give their boss a flirtatious smile. Disgusted, she yanked the rawhide gloves from her hands and tucked them under one arm before nodding in his direction. “Hey.”
After giving Chelsea Rae an appreciative glance, he focused on Joie. “Turns out I need your help picking up a horse I bought.”
“Right now? But I’m scheduled to take a group of ladies from some book club in Texas—the Pulpwood Queens, I think they call themselves—on a trail ride. We’re supposed to leave in a half hour.”
“Saw that on the schedule. Patty’s going to cover.” He turned and told her to follow him.
She trailed him through the jumping arena and out the gate into the parking lot, stopping behind a pickup truck with a horse trailer hitched behind. She didn’t have any choice, she told herself, thinking back to the bar. It’s part of the job.
Ever since Clint Ladner’s hire had been announced, she’d done her level best to avoid him whenever possible. She argued with herself continuously that the day in Crusty’s didn’t matter. So what if her first impression hadn’t been stellar?
Truth was, if she wanted to resurrect a better reputation, it would take a very long time to rewind that clock and start over.
Every time Clint looked at her, something inside her squirmed. He had a way of making her feel like he could see into the very depths of her soul with one glance, like he knew all her secrets.
No one knew all her secrets. She’d seen to that.
“Get in.” Without waiting for her to answer, he headed to the driver’s side and climbed in.
That was another thing. She didn’t take to anyone barking orders at her. She didn’t jump for any one. Not even Clint Ladner.
He honked the horn impatiently.
“I’m coming!” She stomped to the passenger side and threw open the door. “Gads, what’s the big hurry?”
As soon as she climbed in, he shoved the gearshift into drive and they took off. “You ever load a skittish horse?” he asked.
She stared straight ahead. “Yep.”
“Well, the BLM was holding a herd of wild horses they’d collected from the Saylor Creek herd management area in one of their selective removal campaigns. One got injured and won’t easily be adopted. I offered to rehabilitate him.”
Joie glanced across the seat at him in surprise, then forced her gaze back to the road ahead. “So, a rescue horse.”
“Yep,” he answered, mimicking the tone of her earlier response. “In the process of vaccinating him several weeks back, he kicked and gashed his leg pretty badly. The wound got infected and the BLM believes he might end up lame. They’re holding him on a ranch in Stanley.”
Miles passed in silence as they made the drive north on State Highway 75, stopping at the overlook at Galena Summit so he could check the hitch.
While Joie took in the stunning panoramic view over the Sawtooth valley below, Clint dug into a cooler in the back of the pickup. “Want something to drink?” He held up a Dr Pepper. “I know you’re used to something a bit stronger, but ‘fraid this is all I’ve got.”
“Do you know how much sugar you’re putting into your body when you drink one of those? What will all your admirers think when you get all flabby?”
He grunted and popped the tab. “I’m not into caring much about what others think.”
She sidled around him and thrust her hand into the cubes of ice and pulled out a can. “Yeah, I could see that this morning.”
Clint frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Ha, what am I talking about? I’m referring to your new hire. Chelsea Rae, isn’t it?” She held up one open-palmed hand. “Maybe she deserves some slack—it’s a lot of work holding up all that hair. Where’s she from anyway—Texas? No Idaho mama would hang a ditzy name like that on her kid.” She popped the tab, tipped the cold can up and chugged the ice cold drink like a pro.
“That was a favor.”
She tossed her empty can in the back of his truck. “A favor?”
“Sometimes a manager has to bend to politics.” Clint jumped up inside the back of his truck and picked up her empty, tossing both of their empty cans back in the cooler. “We’d better get going,” he said, closing the lid, and the subject.
They made it the rest of the way to Stanley in a little over an hour, again riding in silence. Normally, it took less time to drive the distance, but the horse trailer slowed them considerably.
At the junction to Highway 21, she finally spoke up. “How far to where we need to pick up the horse?”
“Less than ten miles,” he answered.
She gazed out the window at the grassy banks of a stream, at criss-crossed pole fences winding through grassy meadows and the jagged mountains beyond.
In some ways, the craggy vista reminded her of the guy sitting inches away. He was most certainly a fine specimen, a man she could easily find herself physically drawn to. He had a careless look, his jawline angular and rugged, even strong. But there was something in his eyes that told her Clint Ladner was not someone easily traversed, that he was studded with icy snow-capped spires extending too high to successfully climb.
Clint slowed the pickup and eased from the paved highway onto a rutted, potholed road that meandered through heavy sagebrush that scraped against the door of the truck. He looked across at her and apologized when he hit a particularly deep furrow.
She braced herself by holding onto the dash. “You ever take in a rescue horse before?”
“A couple,” he answered. Slowing, he maneuvered around the biggest of the dips, until they came to a wide-open space with nothing more than an empty corral and a small shed-like barn. A BLM vehicle was stationed nearby.
They parked and got out. As two BLM officials headed their way, Clint grabbed a lead rope from behind his pickup seat.
“Hey, there!” one of the light brown-uniformed guys extended his hand. “Glad you made it.”
Clint shut his pickup door and shook hands with both of the officers. “So, where is he?”
The tallest officer pulled his cap from his hand and swiped his forearm across his brow. “Sure is hot for this early in the summer.” He nodded in the direction of the barn. “Horse is in there.”
The other officer stepped forward. “Here’s the paperwork.” He handed the envelope to Joie. She noticed the ground surrounding his side of the government vehicle was littered with discarded Tootsie Roll wrappers.
Holding her tongue, she took the paperwork and tucked it inside the truck before following the three men to the barn that was in need of much repair.
At the door, the officers both hesitated. The one who had handed her the paperwork cleared his throat. “Well, that’s really all we need. Guess you can handle it from here.”
Joie wanted to ask if he was kidding. Didn’t they intend to help? A wounded horse was predictably hard to manage. It could very well take all of them to load the horse safely. She opened her mouth to say as much when Clint’s hand went to her arm. “Thanks, guys. We’ve got it.”
“Okay then, we’ll be going.”
She and Clint waited a few minutes for the men to get in their truck. As they were driving away, Joie turned. “What was all that? Don’t you think those guys should have helped?”
“It ain’t help when it’s not freely given.” Clint had already turned and his hand pulled the rusty handle on the door. The broken wooden panel creaked open. The entire structure looked like the rotted boards might collapse at any time.
Joie glanced back at the truck making its way in the distance, leaving a plume of dust trailing behind. There were many great governmental employees, but a few lazy ones like those often gave the entire organization a bad reputation.
Inside, the barn was dusty and dark. At the last stall, Clint held up his arm, blocking her from going any farther. She paused behind him. The black stallion nearly got lost in the shadows except for his bared, yellowed teeth and the whites of his eyes. His ears lay flat back and he snorted, blowing snot and air.
“Whoa, boy.” Clint slowly opened the stall door and took a cautious step forward. The young horse reared and lunged lopsided, striking out with his front hooves.
Her eyes widened. “I thought he was crippled.”
Clint sidestepped easily and snapped the lead rope onto the horse’s halter as the horse’s hoof banged into the wooden panel.
It took nearly twenty minutes to get the terrified animal out of the dank, smelly stall packed with old hay caked with manure and urine.
In the sunlight, both she and Clint got a good look at the horse’s injury—a gash that had nearly severed a tendon on his rear right leg. The wound was definitely infected, the surrounding flesh dark purple, puffy, and oozing with what looked like weeks-old pus.
Clint let out an expletive.
Joie felt the start of tears and dashed them away before her new boss could see. She never got used to wounded horses, especially injuries resulting from neglect of this magnitude.
She thought of the government officials, how quick they’d been to exit the scene. Anger burned behind her sternum with such intensity, she wanted to hit something. Or someone—but the men she ached to pound on were already gone.
Clint stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle, but the young stallion yanked back from his touch, his eyes rolling wildly. “Best to get him loaded and out of here,” he barked in her direction. “I think I noticed a loading chute in the back. Might be safer to use that to get him loaded.”
“I’ll go get the trailer,” she told him. Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she immediately turned defensive. “What? You don’t think I can back a trailer?”
With only one try, she positioned the trailer at the chute with impressive precision. She climbed from the truck with great satisfaction and opened the back gate. “Your turn, cowboy.”
Clint nodded tightly. He slowly coaxed the horse forward, cueing him with a kissing sound. “Atta, boy. That’s it.” He gave the horse a gentle tap on the hind quarter with his open palm, urging the skittish animal toward the pile of hay placed at the front of the trailer as incentive.
The process took time, and several tries, but with Clint’s carefully executed effort and softly-spoken assurances, they got the job done. “Atta, boy. That’s it.” He fastened the safety bar and then the back gate.
He swiped his face with his bare forearm, then moved to the ice chest in the back of his truck for a cold soda. He retrieved one for himself, and tossed her one. “Well, that should do it.”
Joie couldn’t help but admire the way he’d handled the horse, with extraordinary patience and never showing anger. Animals sensed whom they could trust, and the young stallion responded accordingly.
On the way back to Sun Valley, she turned to Clint. “How can people be so cruel?”
He beat his thumb against the steering wheel, clearly sharing her upset. “He’s in good hands now. With some strong antibiotics and a little care, the horse will be good as new physically.”
She stared at the tattoo running up his arm, the bear claws appearing especially fierce as they extended across his bulging bicep. “What about mentally?”
“That’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I’ve watched you. You’re good.” He shifted gears. The truck and trailer shuddered and groaned before gathering speed again as he made his way to the main highway. “And you’re going to work with me to get this one back on the upside.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that.
“I think it’ll do you both some good,” he added, ruining it.
She whipped around to face him. “What do you mean?”
He slowly brushed his fingers across his stubbled chin. “Pain can change an animal, make it reckless.”
Suddenly, Joie didn’t think they were talking about the horse anymore. “Are you implying something here? Because if you’ve got something to say, I invite you to just spit it.”
Clint gave her a sideways look. She could see the gleam of his perfectly straight teeth as a stealthy smile nipped at the corners of his mouth. “I just have one question,” he said simply.
She challenged him with a frosty look. “Yeah? What’s that?”
He looked back at her, still brandishing that half smile. “What’s a badass trial lawyer doing playing cowgirl?”