Forever's Affection (Forever In Luck Series Book 3) (7 page)

Kris
came closer and the horse let out a snort and a squeal, then stomped its feet.
“Kris, stop, don’t move.” Looking from the horse, to Kris, and back, she waited
and watched the horse, then slowly reached up and undid the bridle, taking it
from the horse’s mouth. Removing the lasso from his neck, she said, “Kris, will
you shut the gate now?”

As
Kris stepped closer, there was another snort and a squeal,
then
the horse took off running further into the pasture. Stepping to the gate, she
walked out, thanked the men who brought him, and saw them off. Walking to the
fence, she stood and stared at the galloping horse in the distance. Pulling out
her phone, she hit some buttons and put it to her ear.

“Have
you seen him?”... “No. What’s his story?”… “He’s Friesian.”… “That’s
bullshit.”… “He’s a Friesian, and he’s been mishandled.
Probably
because they didn’t know their head from their ass.
I’m going to need to
rest him, he’s stressed.”… “Nothing but a twisted Bristol, I tried a
Sweetwater, he took it.”…
“Name?”
She grunted. “He
needs an official name.”… “I don’t care, change it, they got it wrong. Friesian
naming is different, check his birth year.”… “
Threeish
,
I’m guessing.” Looking around, her eyes fell on Kris, and she stopped,
then
stared. After a moment, she went back to her
conversation.
“
Mmhmm
.
I’m
going to need a bigger saddle.”… “Draft horse big, treeless if we have to.”…
“Where?”
… “Hamel, when?”… “Have him bring Goldie.
Mmhmm
.”
Snapping her phone shut, she disconnected the call.

CHAPTER 4

“I
sure could go for some answers,” Kris remarked, as he stood next to her.

“I
sure could go for one of those caramel rolls and some coffee,” she answered
back, avoiding the obvious.

“Alright,”
he answered, “then you’ll tell me what’s going on.” Turning, he walked away,
returning a minute later with two plastic containers and a thermos. “Here, hold
out your hands,” he said, as he prepared to pour water over them. Then he
poured coffee into the thermos lid and handed it to her. Opening the container,
he held it out for her to take a roll. “Now, spill it, I want to know what’s
going on.

“Look
at him,” she said, nodding to the horse. “He’s watching us, but more so you.
Whoever had him was a man, a big man. When you walked away, he started to come
closer,
then
ran away when you came back.
He’s been handled with a heavy hand, and most likely abused, but
not because he’s truly bad, but because they were novices and didn’t know what
they were dealing with.”

She
took a drink of her coffee and a bite of her roll, as he turned and looked at
the horse.

She
continued, “He’s a young male, full of energy, but because of his size he was
perceived to be older than he is and started too young. On the flip side of
that, he was still young and underdeveloped when he was surrendered, and
without proper documentation, he was labeled Arabian. The owners may have even
said he was Arabian to get someone to take him. He’s not. The two are not even
close, but because he’s been going from rescue place to rescue place, no one’s
really stopped to look at him, they just know they can’t handle him. He’s a
Friesian, a baroque Friesian at that, and now that he’s getting older it’s
becoming more and more obvious. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was purebred, but
it’s irrelevant due to his sketchy past. He’d never make it past inspection.”
She finished the coffee and roll.

“Nonetheless,
he’s majestic just the same. Friesians were nearly extinct at one point not
long ago, but are starting to make a comeback. They’re rare in the United States,
mostly found in Europe, having originated in the Netherlands, another reason he
was mislabeled, and I consider myself one of the luckiest people on this earth
to have him. Historically, Friesians were war horses, because they could carry
knights in full armor. Whoever had him, named him Licorice because he’s
completely black, a characteristic of the breed. That’s about all they got
right. His mane and tail have been trimmed back, and his feathers cut, because
they didn’t want to deal with the upkeep of a horse with long, long hair or
they were trying to hide the obvious.”

Turning
to her, he asked, “What are feathers?”

“The long hair at the hooves, like you
see on a Clydesdale.”

“You
rescue horses then?”

“I
train
horses,
they may or may not be rescued.”

“What’s
a twisted Bristol?”

“In
my book, the meanest, nastiest horse bit when in the wrong hands.”

“So,
a Sweetwater isn’t then?”

“All
bits have their failings. A Sweetwater relieves the pressure put on the tongue,
it’s a less is more kind of thing for him, and when he allowed me to come near
him,
I rewarded him by removing the harsh bit from his sore
mouth. The Sweetwater will allow his tongue to heal from the damage caused by
the Bristol used with a heavy hand.”

“What’s
with the naming thing?”

“Friesian
naming is coordinated between birth year and the alphabet. Horses born in his
birth year, if we go with the papers he came with, were given names that
started
with
 
A
,
B, or C.”

“Why Wisconsin?”

Sly,
very sly, get
me
talking then slip in some personal
questions.
“Because I like states that start with W.”

He
laughed.
“Serious, why Wisconsin?”

Here
we go, she thought, wishing she was like that horse and could just gallop away.
Taking a deep breath, she answered him. “Because I needed a fresh start and
this was offered to me.”

“What
was it you needed to get away from?”

Give
an inch and he takes a mile, go figure.
“Headaches and
heartaches.”

“Tell
me, so I know.”

Her
heart sounded the alarm. “I can’t—”

“Can’t
or won’t?” he snapped.

Pausing,
she looked at him intently, then away. “Don’t,” she responded firmly.

Turning
to her, he was unrelenting. “Are you ready to give up on that horse?”

“No.”

“Are
you going to let him down, treat him poorly?”

“Never.”

“Then
what makes you think I would with you?” he asked, clearly annoyed and somewhat
offended. “Tell me, I want to know.”

Okay,
fine. He wants to know, what
did she care
. He would
have to deal with the fallout. “Because it’s the way it’s always been. I was
used, abused, and abandoned, or so I thought. But it was more like used,
abused, and saved. I don’t remember a lot of the earlier stuff, which is a
blessing I suppose, except that when I became older, the cycle started all over
again. I was offered an opportunity to leave it all behind and I took it.” She
felt his eyes on her, sensed his discontent. “Yes, what you’re thinking is what
I’m saying.”
 

“Who?
Who hurt you?”

Naturally,
he wouldn’t let it go. They never did. “Is it really important?” she answered
on a sigh.

“To
some degree, yes,” he defended.

Of course, the hero.
“You can’t fix
this, Kris. What’s done is done.”

“Tell
me,” he insisted.

She
sighed again as she watched the horses in the pasture. “By many standards my
mother was, is, and always will be a buckle bunny, but trust me, she isn’t
choosey. She follows the rodeo circuit and the men who work them. But overall,
you will find her wherever men are. So there were always men and their protégés
hanging around.”

“How
did you get away from them?”

“On
a rare occasion, my mom settled down with a man for a while. It never lasted.
On one such occasion, she left and forgot to take me with her. D.D. kept me at
his ranch, looked after me.”

“Did
he hurt you?”

Shaking
her head, she answered, “No, he’s probably the single best thing that’s ever
happened to me.”

“Where
was your mom?”

More
like where
wasn’t she
.
“Around.”

“Where’s
D.D. now?”

“He
died of a heart attack a few years back.”

“Did
he provide for you, maybe?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“Everything
went to his son, Deegan.”

“Wouldn’t
he help you?”

Yeah,
right. “It depends on what you define as help.”

“He
wouldn’t let you stay at the ranch?”

“No,”
she responded flippantly. “He pretty much decided I came with the
ranch,
he just figured I needed to earn my keep.” That made
him pause, and he stood up taller in apparent concern.

“What
are you saying?”

He
was the one who asked, it wasn’t her fault it was ugly. “He was a stag in rut
and I was handy.”

“Dan—”

“I
just want to be left alone.” She closed her eyes, shutting him out, wanting it
to stop.

“Okay,
okay, I get that. I can understand that, but I think it goes much deeper than
that. I wonder if it isn’t more you just want the pain to stop. Dani, you’ve
rescued that horse from the hurtful conditions he was living in, but that
hasn’t stopped his pain, has it?
Now that he’s safe, you just
going to leave him alone?”

No,
no more talking, she was done talking, it hurt too much. “I thought you were
taking me fishing?”

Getting
the hint, he responded kindly, “Alright, we’ll stop. You’ve given me a lot today.
Thank you for that. Is there anything we need to do before we go?”

Damn,
he’d listened. She wasn’t used to that. Opening her eyes, she looked at him.
Shaking her head in response, she felt weakened by the process and wondered if
she would ever feel whole?

Taking
her hand, and giving it a little tug, he said, “Let’s go then.”

Pausing,
she shifted her eyes to their joined hands. “You can let go of my hand, I
manage just fine.”

Nodding
and giving her arm another tug, he answered her, “I know you do.”

He
didn’t let go.

*****

It’s
a nice one, Dani! That makes four walleyes, and a bunch of
sunnies
.
You want to keep fishing, or be done for the day?”

Smiling
widely as she handled the beauty, she took the fish off the hook. “I think we
should call it a day. It was fun. Thank you.”

Whistling
appreciatively as he took the fish and put it on the line with the others, he
smiled and nodded. “I had a great time, we’ll go again. So what are we going to
do with the fish?”

“Cook
them and eat them,” she answered, patting her tummy.

He
laughed. “Alright, you cook then?”

“I
manage,” she answered, as she attended to their rods, “but I never really
learned how to cook.”

“Should
we see if Jules can help us out then?” he asked, maneuvering the boat to the
dock.

She
shook her head. “No, I want to go home, but I want only one fish, the rest are
for you and your family.”

Thinking
of her empty fridge, he said, “You can keep them, put them in the freezer.”

“Nah,
thank you though,” she responded, gathering her stuff. “You want me to get the
truck?”

He
shook his head. “We’re leaving the boat. A friend of mine lives here and lets
me use his dock.”

“That’s
nice,” she answered, putting her stuff up on the floating platform and climbing
out of the boat, ignoring the hand he held out for her.

 
Figures, he thought, then went on taking no
offense. “Jules will happily cook them, and the rest will happily eat them.
Especially Nik, he’s always hungry.”

She
laughed. “From the amount of food on the table, it looked like you all have a
healthy appetite.”

Throwing
their stuff in the back of the truck, they took off. “
Us
guys, yes, the girls, no. They eat like birds. Once I dished Jules up, not
paying any attention, slapped and heaped food on her plate, even got some on
her clothes, then poured gravy over the whole thing, and she about fainted.
That’s why I gave you small portions the other day, and tried my best to be
careful.”

Raising
her eyebrows at the revelation, she answered with a smirk. “You could solve
that easily by letting people serve themselves, you know.”

“I
suppose,” he answered, turning out onto the main road, “but the men in our
family have always served the women. I don’t know why, we just have. For us,
it’s a sign of respect, an indication that we’re considering their needs along
with our own.”

“So
it’s natural for you to do that?”

“Yes
and no, I’ve seen it practiced, but haven’t had much need to practice it
myself. My ‘healthy appetite’ as you call it has made me big and clumsy.” She
looked over at him suspiciously and he looked away.

“Are
you sure that’s the reason you haven’t practiced it? From the looks of that
neck wound, and your purported state of being single, I get the feeling it’s
more like you’re a fox in the hen house.”

He
laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably, and busied himself with getting home
quick. “I plead the fifth, and I like my earlier rationalization, big and
clumsy sounds better.”

She
snorted. “Yeah, I bet. Your ‘healthy appetite’ may have provided the nutrients
for you to grow to your full potential, but it didn’t make you clumsy. If
you’re clumsy, I’d say it’s because you’re a giant trying to live in a smaller
man’s world. I get that. You’ll never see me jacked in a pair of heels.”

He
looked over, envisioning what she’d look like in heels and almost groaned aloud.
“You’re not that tall.” She laughed and he loved it. No giggling for her.

“Right,”
she answered, clearly unconvinced. “When was the last time you had your eyes
examined? You might want to get that done before you get hurt.”

He
grinned and went for it. “I’m serious. You could wear heels and I’d still be
taller than you. You’re not that tall.” He
was actually
having
to work for this one, and he liked it.

She
shook her head, not taking any of his bullshit. “Okay then, if I’m not that
tall, why did you want to know how tall I am?”