Cotton Tree Ranch
When they pulled up in front of the house, a man opened the screen door and wandered out to watch them park by the stables, his hands on his hips. She smiled and waved, and he nodded in response. He wore jeans, a green-and-white-striped button-down shirt and a tan cowboy hat, and he was in his stockinged feet. Muddy brown boots sat by the door, and she watched him pull them on as Gus parked.
Her heart jittered and her head felt light. “You’ve got this, Hazel,” she whispered under her breath. “It’s just an animal, and he’s just a cowboy. You’ve made small talk with heads of state over cocktails and negotiated to play third-chair violin with the legendary head of the Atlanta Symphony. You can handle a cowboy and a horse.”
She climbed out of the truck, stumbling on the uneven ground and almost twisting her ankle. As he rounded the front of the vehicle, she landed against the cowboy’s hard chest, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and neck. Her cheeks burned, she lifted her eyes to meet his – and time stood still.
His eyebrows rose in surprise and he gently pried her free, setting her on her feet. “You okay?” he asked with a hint of a smile. His dimpled cheeks seemed to mock her.
She smoothed her flyaway curls behind her ears, smiling with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Fine, thank you. I’m sorry about that – I’m afraid I didn’t select the most practical shoes when I left the house this morning.”
He glanced down at her feet and pursed his lips. “I guess not.”
She offered her hand. “Hazel Hildebrand.”
“Dalton Williams – pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand with a firm grip, then tipped back his hat. “So you’re the vet?”
“Well, I’m … I’m here to keep the mare, um …”
“Contessa’s Charity?”
“Yes – I’m here to keep her company.”
“Good to know.”
Gus rounded the back of the trailer with the mare in tow. She looked remarkably calm after the long journey, her tail swishing around her hind legs. Her head bobbed as she walked and her eyes flitted around, taking in her new surroundings with seeming curiosity. “Howdy. Ya must be Mr. Williams. I’m Gus, and this here’s Contessa’s Charity – just Charity fer short. She’s stayin’ here for a bit, I understand.”
Dalton grinned and shook Gus’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Gus. Hey there, Charity.” He ran a hand lovingly down the mare’s forehead, tracing the long white blaze there.
“Here ya go, then. I’ll just get the paperwork fer ya to sign and I’ll be on my way. Miss Hazel here’s gonna stay with Charity ‘til the deed’s done, then she’ll call me and I’ll come on back to collect her. Sound good?”
Hazel marveled at how loquacious Gus was all of a sudden. He’d said more to Dalton Williams in one minute than he had to her in hours.
“Sounds fine to me.” Dalton took the mare’s lead from Gus and watched as Gus foraged around in the truck cab for the contract.
Hazel felt very out of place. She chewed on her cheek and folded her arms.
Gus’s head emerged from the truck, his eyebrows arched. “Ya want yer bag?”
She nodded and hurried around to the passenger side, dragging her wheeled luggage from the cabin. It thudded to the ground below and she pulled and tugged it across the lumpy ground. It was almost as bad a choice as the pumps, she realized – now that it was too late.
Once finished with the contract, Gus waved goodbye, backed out of the yard, turned the truck and trailer around and headed down the long drive. Hazel watched him leave, her heart pounding. She wiped the sweat from her brow again and turned toward the rundown house with its cracked paint and rotting siding, and the ancient barn and adjoining stables. Finally, she looked at Dalton, who was talking quietly to the mare. Then his eyes met Hazel’s with a bemused expression.
She smiled, her heart in her throat. What had she gotten herself into?