Terry Mclaughlin - Millionaire Cowboy Seeks Wife

Not Hannibal. Not my boy .

CHAPTER FOUR

ELLIE TENSED, READY TO CALL out and put a stop to the proceedings, but she bit her lip.

Why not Hannibal? Sure, he was a little green and more than a little headstrong, but if Fitz knew anything at all about horses, it’d only take a minute or two for him to figure it out. And if Fitz didn’t know as much about horses as he claimed, it would only take Hannibal a minute or two to figure that out—and then Fitz would be getting an education, fast and hard, down on the ground.

She watched Fitz sling the saddle over Hannibal’s broad back and then step aside to take the reins while Brady fussed over the cinch. The actor stood just to one side of the horse’s head, a serious and solemn look on his face, but whatever he was murmuring to Hannibal must have been amusing enough to have Brady throw his head back with a bark of a laugh.

And then Fitz stepped up into the saddle with the ease of a lifetime of practice and wrapped those long legs around Hannibal’s ribs, and the horse began to move. A leisurely walk, a smooth slide into a slow jog, a sudden turn to the center of the arena followed by a stiff-legged stop.

Ellie’s chest squeezed in suspended panic as she waited for the big horse to shimmy or break. But through the next few minutes of shifting gaits and motionless pauses, though she studied the way the actor’s boots rested in the stirrups and the way his fingers curled around the reins, she couldn’t fault his style. Heck, she couldn’t even catch half the cues he was giving. The gelding had never looked so good with someone on his back.

“Whoo-ee,” said Nudge, clambering up beside her. “Will you look at that?”

“I’m lookin’,” called Milo from another side of the arena. “Not believin’, but lookin’.”

“Hey, Ellie,” Jake shouted from his perch next to Chico, “Whad’ya think?”

“I think I’d better get back to work,” she answered.

Her comment cleared the hired hands off the rails faster than the dinner gong. Soon only a few film crew members remained with her to watch the rest of the show.

There wasn’t much left to watch. Fitz took Hannibal over a couple of low jumps and let him stretch his legs in another set of loping circuits, but soon he reined the horse into the center of the arena, where Brady waited with a halter and lead.

Will ambled over from behind the stables and headed toward Ellie. He waited for her to climb down, and then handed her half a sandwich and a bright red mug full of lemonade. “Heard Hannibal finally found himself a match.”

“Hmph.” Ellie bit into the sandwich and ripped off a satisfying chunk. “Probably having an off day,” she muttered as she chewed.

“Maybe he liked the signals he was getting.” Will turned his back to the arena, resting his elbows on the rail behind him. “Sounds like Fitz knows how to give ’em.”

“Maybe.” Ellie started to take another bite, but hesitated with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “I wonder what Tom would have done about this, whether he would have put a stop to it. I mean, that crazy actor could have had a fall and broken his leg, and then where would we be? Maybe I should have done something. Tom would have, don’t you think?”

“I don’t spend too much of my time wondering what Tom would have thought or done about this or that. He’s not here, Ellie. You are. And you did the right thing. No broken leg today.” Will glanced over his shoulder. “That crazy actor could still break something, though. There’ll be plenty of chances.”

“Yeah.” She took a smaller bite as the first one tossed around in her stomach. “That’s what’s been keeping me up nights.”

Will gazed up into the cottonwood trees, squinting at the glare of the sun where it peeked through the fluttering, shimmering leaves. “You don’t like him much, do you, little girl?”

“Who?”

“Fitz.”

She shrugged and took a sip of lemonade. “What’s not to like?”

“Nothing much. Maybe that’s the problem.” Will shot her one of his painfully neutral looks and then climbed over the rail and dropped into the arena.

FITZ SWUNG DOWN from the big horse and rubbed a hand along its neck. “I’ve got a few minutes to kill,” he told Brady. “I’ll take him in, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” Brady handed him the tack. “I’ll set his things out by his stall.”

As Fitz looped the halter around Hannibal’s neck, he noted Ms. Pointy Nose watching him like a hawk from her perch on the rail as her sidekick made his way across the arena. He’d been pushing his luck, waiting for the two of them to be occupied elsewhere so he could take a closer look at their stock.

He stood his ground as the ranch foreman approached. “Afternoon, Will.”

“Afternoon.” Will lifted his elbows and arched his back a bit with a groan. “Is that all the later it is?”

Fitz smiled. “Heard you had an early morning.”

“Yep. Too early for these creaky bones.” Will glanced at the stable entry. “Brady comin’ back out?”

“Nope.” Fitz slowly ran his hand down Hannibal’s face, tracing the thin white blaze. “I’m going to take him in.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

Fitz glanced over Will’s shoulder at Ellie. “Figured you might.”

Trish jogged out of the stable and into the arena. “Fitz! Burke’s looking for you. Nora’s here, and Mitch wants to get some publicity shots of the two of you. And Van Gelder’s got some rewrites for tomorrow’s scene.”

Rewrites. Damn. He tightened his grip on the lead as he guided Hannibal past her. “I’ll head back in a while.”

Trish hesitated before ducking into the breezeway behind the men. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“Fine,” Fitz said. “If I get the okay from the people in charge, I’d like to work with Hannibal here.”

Trish frowned. “He certainly is…big.”

“With a big, easy way of moving.” Fitz poked the lead through a ring on the wall near Hannibal’s stall and glanced at Will. “Maybe I could work with him whenever I had some free time. Off the set.”

Trish looked from Will to Fitz and back again, her pen hovering over one of her little note papers.

“I s’pose he could be made available on that basis.” Will bent down, pulled a hoof pick out of Hannibal’s bucket of brushes and handed it to Fitz. “He’s sort of Ellie’s boy. She likes to keep him close to home.”

Fitz pressed his shoulder against one of the horse’s hind legs and pulled his foot off the packed-dirt floor. From beneath Hannibal’s belly, he could see Trish shift impatiently from one foot to the other, waiting for information she could process and file.

“So, are we going to use the horse or not?” she asked.

Fitz finished cleaning the hoof and straightened. He looked to Will to make it official. The foreman tipped his hat back to scratch at his head. “I s’pose we should check with Ellie first.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Trish said. As she scrawled a note across her clipboard, she glanced at Fitz. “Burke said he’d meet you at Nora’s trailer.”

“Got it.” Fitz unleashed his do-me-a-favor smile. “Oh, and Trish?”

“Huh?” She blinked once, twice, and then she stilled.

He kicked it up a notch. “I’d appreciate it if you’d call him on your phone, let him know I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Oh. Okay.” She backed out of the breezeway, into the sunlight.

“Thanks, Trish.”

“Uh…sure.” She tripped over a dip in the ground. “Anytime.”

Will glanced at Fitz as he tugged a curry comb through Hannibal’s long mane. “Wonder if someone’ll want this trimmed up a bit.”

“We’ll find out the first time the wind blows all that hair up into my face and ruins a shot.”