Second Chances (4 page)

Walking
up to a couple of the geldings, he snapped the lead ropes on their halters, and
handed the ends to April. She gave him the other leads, then made smooching
noises to get the horses moving. They followed docilely. He watched her for a
second, realizing she’d done this before. Lots of times, if he didn’t miss his
guess. He re-evaluated his earlier thought, teetered on the fence, before
deciding she knew something about horses. The familiarity and confidence in her
carriage spoke of many things, including hours spent with the large animals.

By the
time he gathered up the remaining two geldings in the pasture, she’d walked the
first ones through the gate, sidestepped them over with the touch of her hand
on their shoulders, and closed the barrier behind her.

No
matter where that girl grew up, she stood firmly on the country side of things
today. In her pink and white tennis shoes. With a shake of his head, he
followed in her tracks.

Thirty
minutes later, with all the horses settled into their stalls, he poured out
grain into a variety of colorful plastic buckets, one for each horse. One
variety for the geldings, another for the mares and foals. A third type for the
two senior horses boarding there that needed special feed. He filled the final
bucket and rolled down the top of the bag in order to keep the feed fresh and
any opportunistic mice out. Grabbing each container in turn, he delivered the
evening meal, saving April’s pets for last.

“Hold
her for me.” He waited for April to slip into the stall and grab the filly by
her halter before stepping inside. Miracle at once lifted her head and stepped
back, her eyes rolling with fear.

April
stroked her neck and whispered to her, keeping a snug hold on the halter. “Why
don’t you let me?”

He
shook his head. “The bucket’s heavy. Besides, she has to start getting used to
me sometime. Might as well be sooner rather than later.” His voice joined hers
in a quiet, soothing manner, aimed at quelling the obviously scared filly.
“It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m not going to hurt you. Just bringing your dinner
is all.” As he spoke, he inched along the front wall of the stall, keeping a
close eye on Miracle while ensuring the feed bucket stayed between him and her.
Finally, he stopped entirely, holding the container perfectly still. “I know
you’re hungry. Just give it a try.”

Miracle’s
ears flipped back and forth as she shifted nervously in the confines of the
stall. Tension mounted, and then eased when he did no more than stand before
her. Her skin rippled now and again, but she made no move to lash out with
hooves or teeth. Instead, she watched him like a wild mare would eye a hungry
wolf.

Mischief
had no such qualms. He lifted his head and tried to sneak some morsels off the
top.

Dusty
grinned and glanced down at the mini for a split second. “I should have brought
yours first, huh?”

The
small gelding whinnied as if in answer.

Ever so
slowly, Dusty placed the bigger bucket in the holder, then stepped back to grab
the smaller sized one. He cleared the straw out of the front corner by the
entrance and set the container on the ground. Mischief wasted no time to dig
in.

April
praised her filly, spent a few more minutes stroking her pet’s side as Miracle
sniffed the feed, took a tentative bite, then dug in with exuberance.

The
click of a door closing announced April vacated the stall, allowing her horses
to eat in peace. “I’d count that as a small victory.”

He
looked back, found Miracle eating heartily, and nodded briefly. “It’s a start.”

“The
first step in healing,” she whispered with feeling.

He told
himself she spoke of Miracle’s long road back to trusting people again. Yet, in
reality, her words brushed his very soul. Emotional scars ran deep. Some too
well engrained to ever overcome. He knew that for a fact.

Ben
whined, waking Dusty in an instant. Sitting up, he scanned the area, looking
and listening for what might have alerted the dog. Finding nothing, he laid
back down and stroked the dog’s coarse fur. Though the animal never missed
anything, Dusty wondered if Ben suffered from similar nightmares as his,
courtesy of war.

They’d
been teammates in Afghanistan and Ben had saved his life and others more times
than he could count. He scented out explosives as well as sounded an alarm when
the enemy drew near. Trained for protection, Ben could rip into a man with a
simple command, yet he remained as playful as a puppy these days running around
Dusty’s stable.

When
Dusty decided to put in his resignation to the Navy SEALs, his sole regret was
losing Ben. Only his luck held as the Navy decided, due to Ben’s advanced age
of eight years and his development of arthritis which affected his mobility, to
retire the service dog. Dusty immediately stepped forward to adopt Ben,
bringing him home.

Home.
More like his family’s home. He tried to live there after returning from war.
Then his life splintered. His longtime girlfriend opted to find another man in
his absence. He couldn’t entirely blame her, but yet, she left his heart broken
and aching. He’d been too busy on the war front to grieve over his loss in a
short letter that took three months to find him. After he returned home, he
leaped back into the dating pool, eager to find a woman to spend his days with.
On the rebound, he found Rose. From their first meeting, he decided he wanted
to keep her, fell instantly head over heels in love at first sight. He should
have known better. Turns out, she specialized in manipulating men out of their
money then walked away leaving them high and dry. His stubbornness refused to
see the truth even after his oldest brother hired a PI who found plenty of
incriminating evidence. Hurt and still trying to adjust to life post-war, he
lashed out, first verbally, then threw a few punches at Archer, his oldest
brother who presented him with proof of his latest folly when choosing a woman.
He packed up and left that very night, striking out on his own with Ben at his
side.

Traveling
for a couple of days, he finally decided to do what he always wanted to do—own
a stable and train horses. Lucking into a run-down business, he bought the land
for next to nothing, and spent the next month repairing fences, mending the
stable, and advertising his services. Slowly, but surely, people brought him
their horses. Some to stable and care for, others to break and train. Word of
mouth spread quickly, allowing him ample work and enough of a financial cushion
to feel comfortable.

Now,
three years later, white hair coated the tan dog’s muzzle and Ben relied on
daily medication to control his arthritis pain. Dusty lived in the one bedroom
living area attached to the stable, and he cared for twenty horses at the
present time. The animals provided him with more than a source of income, they
offered him peace and an outlet for his restless, nightmares, and loneliness.
The only item the animals couldn’t fix was the breach with his family. He’d not
seen or spoken to any of his four brothers since the night he and Archer came
to blows. His parents called now and again, but he avoided the tense and
uncomfortable conversations whenever he could. While he said good riddance back
then, he’d come to realize his own lack of judgment in the fiasco. Pride
prevented him from calling, from doing more than occasionally thinking about
them and wondering what life had brought to each of them in the past several
months.

Ben sat
up and jumped off the bed, his old joints popping in the process. Dusty threw
the sheet aside and pulled on a pair of old worn out jeans, complete with holes
in the knees. With no air conditioning and only a fan, the nights proved too
hot to wear anything to bed. Yet, he kept clothing close. On the farm you
didn’t know what kind of critter might wander in looking for food or something
else. He could deal with the occasional possum, but the human variety of thief
put him on alert the most. Only once did someone try to sneak in and steal from
him. Between Ben going berserk and Dusty cocking a gun in the man’s face, the
man wasn’t about to return anytime soon. Even if he got released from jail
early.

“What
is it, Ben?” Grabbing his handgun, Dusty followed his dog, pausing to silently
turn the knob on the door that led to the stable. Cracking the door open, he
let Ben through first, then snuck out behind him. The dog didn’t make a mad
dash, bark, or growl. Instead, he wandered into the middle of the aisle and sat
down.

Perplexed,
Dusty lowered his gun and flicked on another set of lights. “Well, I’ll be
damned.” He stared in disbelief as Mischief stood to one side, tugging at a
bale of hay. While he watched, the mini pulled out a mouthful and lifted his
head, chewing happily as he glanced up at Dusty.

“How
did you get out?”

Dusty
glanced toward the stall, finding the door standing ajar. Luckily, the skittish
filly remained inside. Walking over, he shut the stall door, and then headed
over to Mischief. “Let me guess, you needed a midnight snack?”

The horse
eyed him haughtily and snatched another bite of hay.

Plopping
down on the bale, Dusty took his time sizing up the white horse. “I have a
feeling you’re going to live up to your name.”

The
horse snorted, blowing specks of hay all over Dusty.

Not in
the least upset, Dusty rubbed the horse’s head and grinned. “Yeah, I know.
You’re a growing boy. Growing outward, that is.” He noted the round belly on
the small horse. Horses loved to eat. Mischief, despite his size, proved no
exception. With a chuckle, Dusty gathered up a section of hay and led the horse
back toward his stall. He tossed the food in the center of the stall and nudged
Mischief back in. Both horses corralled once more, he re-latched the stall
door, called Ben, and headed back to bed.

Just
after the crack of dawn, April strode into the stable, through the large gate
at the entrance, automatically searching for Dusty. She figured he had to be
around since the gate wasn’t locked and only a fool would run off without
securing valuables. Dusty might be stubborn and built like the fabled Adonis,
but he wasn’t a fool.

Still
finding no sight of him, she headed to the stall containing her horses. The
last thing she wanted to do was go banging on his door when the poor man
happened to be in the bathroom. That act would surely put him in a cranky mood
for the morning.

Last
night, she’d stuck around after grooming the animals, watched him bring in all
of the horses, groom most of them, then pour out feed for each. Even with her
own, he refused to allow her to carry the heavy buckets inside. Instead, he
asked her to hold the filly while he carefully entered the stall and fed them,
one bucket in the holder, another on the ground in the corner since he didn’t
have a second, lower device to hold Mischief’s bucket. The entire time he spoke
gently to Miracle, holding the feed between them so she realized his
intentions. Though a bit anxious, she didn’t make any aggressive moves. A
definite plus.

Glancing
across the aisle, April looked over the horses with interest. Three of the
mares had foals at their sides, all absolutely adorable. Dusty’s prize palomino
stud occupied the end stall. His gleaming golden color catching the morning
rays like a chunk of the rare mineral. A white blaze and four white socks matched
his mane and tail, the combination more than flashy.

A door
clicked. Ben emerged first, followed by Dusty. The dog made a beeline for her
even as Dusty’s gaze met hers. Automatically, she reached down to pat Ben’s
head. “What? No pajamas?

“I
don’t wear any during the summer.”

Her
mouth fell open, not expecting his blunt answer. “Well, ummm…” Tongue-tied, she
tried to kick her errant mind into gear.

His
dark eyes sparked for a moment before his face fell into a serious expression.
“Don’t you have to work like everyone else?”

She
straightened her back and lifted her chin. Granted, he asked a reasonable
question, yet the words put her immediately on the defensive. “As a matter of
fact, yes. I do work.” She sucked in a breath. “If you had actually read my contracts,
you’d already know I’m a nurse at Three Points Hospital. I work twelve hours
shifts, three days per week. I’m off the next two weeks on vacation in order to
get my horses and make sure they’re settled.” Mischief lipped at her fingers.
She reached into scratch around his ears. “If it makes you feel any better, I
return to work after that so I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He
stared at her for a long minute as a tic began in his jaw. “I was just asking,
not criticizing.” With that said, he headed to a stack of buckets and started
pouring out grain.

A soft
appreciative smile lit her face when the shirt pulled tight over his arms and
back as he lifted the fifty pound feed sacks to pour into each plastic tub. He
repeated the action over and over again. The flex and tug gave the shirt a
workout, which got her pulse pumping. She licked her lips. There was nothing
like a powerful man in his prime. She could stand there all day, watching him
work. Then once the task was done, follow him into the shower, run a washcloth
over his ripped physique, and drag him to the bed to ride ‘em hard—cowgirl
style.

There go my hormones again.
Shoving the erotic thoughts
aside, she opted to actually make herself useful.

She
wandered over, and grabbed up the first container. “Who does this go to?”

He
looked up at her in surprise. “I can get it.”

“I
know. But instead of standing around like a bump on a pickle, I’d prefer to
help out.”

He
studied her for a moment before gesturing to the closest stall. “That’s
Bobbie’s. The little bay closest to us.”

Carrying
the feed, April opened the stall, found the holder, and set the bucket down.
Before she secured the door, she heard crunching sounds from a hungry mare. She
hurried back, and grabbed the next container. “This one?”

“That’s
Rule’s. I’ll take his.”

She
released the handle and moved ahead in the line. “That’s your stud, right?”

“Take
that one to Hailey. The black filly on your left.” Dusty walked over, picked up
Rule’s feed, and headed toward the back stall. “Yeah. He’s a grand champion
quarter horse. I’m lucky to have gotten him at a decent price.”

“You
raise your own stock then?” She did as bidden, making her way to yet another
horse.

“Very
few. Two of the colts are mine. The third belongs to a boarder.” He returned,
picked up another bucket, and headed back down the middle of the lane.

“Why so
few? I’d think people would be looking for well bred horses to buy.”

“The
economy hit horses hard, leaving an abundance, as you already know. Even those
who show horses have cut back. While several pay a stud fee to use Rule, I
limit the number of mares I breed to two each year. One day I might want to
expand the operation, but right now, I’m doing good with small numbers that I
can handle.” He handed her the next one as she approached. “Turnip, the sorrel
gelding that looks like he’s asleep all the time.”

She
grinned. “That’s what happens when you’re old. Nap time is warranted.”

His
lips twitched. “I suppose so.” He grabbed up a couple of buckets and made his
way to her horses. With a quiet tone, he slid the stall door open and stepped
in. April held her breath, debating hurrying over to assist or giving Dusty a
chance on his own. Standing still, she watched Miracle’s ears flatten only to
lift a hair as he began speaking to her, then gradually flip back and forth as
if she couldn’t decide what to do in this particular situation. He moved lazily
across the front of the stall, holding the bucket of feed out to her the entire
time. She stared at him for a couple of minutes as if debating the risk and
danger of getting too close to a man, then stretched her neck out, just far
enough to gather a few oats off the top. After she chewed those, she repeated
the action, gradually becoming bolder. By the time Dusty settled the bucket in
the holder, Miracle had eaten part of her breakfast with him holding the bucket
and appeared somewhat comfortable.

“Wow.
You do have a touch.”

He
stepped out of the stall, securing the door behind him. “She just needs time
and a reason to believe.” Without stopping, he headed straight for the few
remaining buckets. “This goes to Tulip and Tansy, the bay mare with the star on
her forehead. You’ll have to hold the bucket for the foal or Tulip will push
her out.”

“Okay.”
Gathering up the items, April walked to the stall, stepped in, gave the big
mare her food, and held the smaller bucket for the pretty little black foal.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dusty finishing the morning chore,
petting Ben’s head as he walked by, then pouring out some kibble into a bowl. A
tortoiseshell cat trotted out of an empty stall, hurried over, and proceeded to
chow down. Dusty changed out her water as well as dump a bigger bucket outside
before refilling, presumably for the dog. Cracking open a can, he emptied the
contents into another bowl and added dry food alongside. Ben dived right in.