K.N. Casper - As Big As Texas

“I’m sorry we spooked your horse.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the mare in the far corner watching him suspiciously.

“No permanent damage done.” His voice was a mellow baritone with just enough Texas in it to be charming.

“Is that Birdsong?” Megan bubbled.

“Birdsong?” He gazed at her, and it seemed to Kayla there was sadness in his eyes.

“I’m going to have my very own horse. Mommy promised.”

Time to take control of the situation. Kayla extended her hand. “I’m Kayla Price. This is my daughter, Megan.”

She wasn’t surprised that his hand was rough and callused. He was, after all, a cowboy. It was also large and warm, the grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Ethan Ritter,” he said. “Y’all must be the folks who’ve taken over the Conyer place.” He started walking toward the gate. Kayla followed suit on her side of the fence, Megan skipping along a pace or two ahead.

“Actually, just the house and forty acres.”

Lifting his hat from a fence post, he pushed it down over his thick brown hair, opened the gate and secured it behind him. “What are you planning to do with the land?”

“Grow grapes. We’re calling it Stony Hill Vineyard.”

He didn’t look shocked and he didn’t laugh, which she took as a good sign. “Why a vineyard?”

“Why?” she repeated. “Why not?”

“Not a good answer.” He kept walking toward the weathered barn.

Kayla found herself practically jogging to keep up with his long stride. His dismissive attitude had her pulse up. “Excuse me?”

“You need to have a positive reason for doing something if you want to succeed,” he explained. “You won’t accomplish much with that negative mind-set.”

“Are you always so judgmental?”

“Gee, I hope so,” he said with an aw-shucks grin. “Isn’t that why the Good Lord gave us intelligence? To make decisions, judgments?”

She didn’t know what to say. Most people took the word judgmental as a criticism; he was wearing it like a badge.

“Are we going to see Birdsong now?” Megan asked, bouncing up and down.

Ethan slowed and smiled at her. “Sure, you can meet Birdsong. We’ll have to call her in from the pasture, though. She’s busy right now snacking on green grass. Would you care for a drink of water?” He worked his mouth, clucking his tongue. “I’m dry as a bone.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Megan said, very adult. “Dry as a bone.”

He grinned with unexpected affection, and in spite of her pique, Kayla couldn’t help smiling, too. She liked the way his expression softened when he spoke to her daughter. He was definitely opinionated, but there was a childlike quality about him, as well. An intriguing combination, she decided, and a dangerous one.

The barn’s rich scent of hay and feed nearly overwhelmed Kayla as Ethan led them into a small room, its rough wooden walls covered with racks of saddles and tack. Over by a battered school desk he took three bottles of water out of a small refrigerator. Twisting the cap off one, he handed it to Megan, gave the second to Kayla and then downed half of his in one long draw.

Kayla tried not to stare at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with each swallow.

Back outside, he showed them to a large pasture where half a dozen horses were grazing. Two fingers between his teeth, Ethan whistled, and the animals began to saunter toward him.

“The bay in the lead is Birdsong,” he explained.

The brown horse had a black mane and tail, as well as four black stockings. She also appeared to be bigger than the others.

“She’s beautiful,” Megan declared. “I don’t care if she’s not gray.”

Ethan looked at Kayla.

“That’s her favorite color this month.”

Again, he smiled. Oh, yes, definitely dangerous. A woman could grow very fond of that smile.

Megan moved down the fence to where the animals were headed.

“She’s horse crazy,” Kayla explained.

“A lot of kids go through the phase at that age. How old is she, about eight?”

Kayla was impressed. Most bachelors—a woman who’d made no secret of eavesdropping on her conversation with Mr. Tanner, had been very emphatic about that—were poor judges of a child’s age.

“Yes,” she responded. “She has pictures of horses all over her room, statues on her shelves and has nagged me into subscribing to every horse magazine she can find.”

“Give her a few years. Once adolescence hits and she discovers boys, horses will quickly be forgotten.”

“The opposite sex doesn’t seem to have distracted you,” she blurted, blushing when she realized what she was saying.

He tilted his head in amusement. “I’m not immune.” His green eyes studied her, making her decidedly uncomfortable, a condition he obviously enjoyed, because he laughed before observing, “I have more than a dozen horses here. What’s your interest in this particular one?”

“When I was in the general store yesterday, I happened to mention I might be interested in buying Megan a horse. Mr. Tanner said your Birdsong was very gentle with kids, and that you probably didn’t have much use for her anymore.”

For a moment Ethan’s expression shifted, but the sadness, if that’s what it was, vanished when the big mare came up to the fence and nosed his arm.

“Can I pet her?” Megan cried. “Can I? Please?”

Ethan beckoned to her. “Come here.”

Wide-eyed, she rushed over. He lifted her so her feet rested on the bottom rail of the fence. “Put your hand out slowly with your palm up and fingers flat, and let her sniff you for a few seconds. Then you can rub her nose.”

Megan did what she was told, then giggled as she ran her fingers above the horse’s nostrils. “She’s so soft,” she said in amazement.

“That’s the silkiest part of any horse,” Ethan told her. “Now slowly move your hand up to her forehead. You can feel her coat there is rough.”

Kayla held her breath and watched for any change in Megan’s breathing. None.

“If you really want to make her feel good, rub her just above the eyes. Like this.” He cupped his hand over the horse’s right eye and rubbed it in a gentle massage, then guided Megan’s much smaller hand to do the same thing. “That’s it. Nice and easy. Not all horses like to be touched there, but a lot of them do. I think Birdsong really likes you.”

He had a way with children, Kayla decided, and wondered why he wasn’t married and raising a family.

“Can I ride her?” Megan pleaded.

“Maybe another time. She’s ready to come in for her supper now.”

Megan’s disappointment was palpable, but to Kayla’s immense relief she didn’t push the issue.

“Ready to bring them in?” asked a man behind them.

Kayla spun around. An older cowboy with a paunchy middle and a scuffed straw Western hat shielding his leathery face had approached so quietly, she hadn’t even heard him.

“Carter, this is Kayla Price,” Ethan said over his shoulder, still holding Megan so she could run her hand over the horse’s other eyelid. “They’re interested in buying Birdsong.”

Carter grunted and moved to the gate a few yards down, where he removed one of a dozen halters hanging on the fence. Birdsong instantly trotted to him, nudging another horse out of the way. No question about the pecking order.

“Can I go with her?” the girl begged.

Ethan let out a chuckle. “Carter,” he called over, “Megan would like to help you bring Birdsong in.”

“Don’t need no help,” the old man grumbled. “Been doin’ this longer than you been alive.”

Ethan just looked at the man with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, all right. Come on then. Don’t have all day.” Carter stepped inside the gate and put the halter on the big mare, who seemed to accept it eagerly. “Give her room,” he barked at the girl, “if you don’t want to get run down.”