“Theme? Hollywood?” Alex’s brow furrowed. Hollywood isn’t exactly what I think about when I think rescue horses.
“Right! It would be like attending the Oscars. We’ll serve a nice dinner, have a red carpet section with photographers, and folks can buy the photos with the proceeds going to the rescue. They can also bid on things in the silent auction, or they can sponsor individual horses and receive an award at the end of the night, complete with a golden trophy.”
“You thought of all of this? You can’t have been working on this for more than a few days.”
Emma smiled. “I like throwing parties, but I rarely have the chance.”
“Parties can get expensive, you know,” he said, suddenly wondering what a night in Hollywood would cost his clinic.
“I know,” Emma said, gesturing that she’d thought of the cost as well. “I’m going to try and get as many local businesses as I can to donate, either to the auction or to the catering and decorations. Ryker said he’ll handle the advertising. You’ll be on the hook for trophies, though.”
He shook his head. “This is amazing. You really took initiative.” Alex liked the idea of sponsoring charity events to raise money for the rescue, and he liked the idea of a woman who would throw herself into the organizing with such energy.
“Thanks, Doctor Pars—Alex.” She smiled up at him, and he saw something in her eyes that caused a tiny thread of worry to worm its way into his insides.
“Let me know if there is anything I can do to help,” he said, taking a step back and turning in the direction of his office.
“There is one thing,” she called from her desk. “You can accompany me to the charity event in Whiskey River.”
“Of course,” he said. He expected to come to an event his clinic was sponsoring. Which was why his worry exploded into full-blown anxiety when she responded with a wide smile and three little words.
“It’s a date!”
CHAPTER 12
BRENNE
“That’s right, Ghost. Today is the day we saddle up.” Brenne scratched the horse behind his jaw and smiled when it whickered softly.
The Tennessee Walking Horse was a tall breed that came in a range of colorings. This one was a smoky gray that darkened around its head. His jet black mane was once again glossy and clean, the sheen of his coat coming back slowly as well. The discharge from his eyes had vanished, and his cough was all but gone. Brenne was blown away by the beast’s remarkable recovery. She knew it had a lot to do with Ghost’s spirit. Like hers, he didn’t let life knock him down for long.
She’d texted Alex last night to ask permission to finally ride him. Alex had texted back, assuring that Ghost now had a clean bill of health. He advised her to go slow and to exercise caution. Feeling sassy, she’d texted back, You talking to me or the horse?
She’d watched the dots flicker for over a minute and disappear, only to reappear for another minute and vanish again. Finally a smiling-face emoji appeared, and Brenne shoved her phone in her pocket, repressing a growl of frustration.
She’d drawn a line when she’d left the note saying she’d be limiting her duties to Ghost, but she’d planned to continue a working relationship with Alex despite their recent past. Alex, on the other hand, had been going out of his way to avoid her the last couple of weeks. Maybe it was what he needed. Or maybe he felt like he’d done his due diligence to please her brothers and now he could go back to ignoring their little sister.
“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life trying to puzzle out that man,” she told herself, not for the first time. Instead, she checked the saddle she’d hauled from her ranch one last time before settling it onto the blanket she’d placed on Ghost’s back. She paused, making sure the saddle wouldn’t agitate the horse.
Ghost stood there patiently, seemingly comfortable with being saddled. Brenne wasn’t that surprised. The breed was well known as a riding and show breed. Their distinctive gait had four beats, making for a fast running walk which was accentuated by the horse’s nod, which followed the rhythm of its steps. They could also be taught to perform a flashy move, often called the Big Lick, in which their front hooves lifted high off the ground with every step. Some owners added pads over their horses’ hooves to exaggerate the steps, and sometimes the devices could cause the horse pain, or worse, lameness.
Brenne was relieved that Ghost was no longer with an owner who would abuse him. She couldn’t resist giving the horse a quick embrace. “We’re going to take it easy today, and if you’re not feeling it, just let me know.” She let the horse go, then thought it wise to add, “But if you could not buck me off your back, that would be great.”
Leading him out into the sunshine, she led him in the direction of a trail she knew went off toward the creek. She pulled herself into the saddle and got situated, then pressed her heels gently into his flanks. Ghost started off in a slow walk, and she easily steered him in the direction of the trail.
Brenne had expected some issue, given the state of the horse when it had been at Ryker’s, but Ghost had the smoothest gait of any horse she’d ridden. She could tell he wanted to go faster, so she let him, and soon they were moving along at a steady clip. The wind blew back her hair, and she could feel her cheeks turning pink in the coolness of the afternoon.
She lost track of time, lost track of almost everything as she rode. It was the feeling she always got when she took a horse out and let it run. Brenne leaned in close and breathed in tandem with the beast as it carried them through a stand of trees and down to the creek. The water meandered at their side as Ghost snorted in delight.
When she could see the series of outbuildings that the Parsons used for their farm implements and vehicles, Brenne pulled back on the reins. She knew the outer boundary of the Parsons’s land was just beyond those outbuildings. Dismounting, she gave the horse a moment to sniff at the grass and catch its breath. She stood staring out over the fields beyond the creek, the same creek that ran through the MacAllen ranch.
Longhorns with dark red coats, a few with spots of white, grazed in the winter fields. She watched the cows as Ghost explored his new environment, letting her mind wander. As it inevitably did, it headed straight for Alex.
She wondered where he was today. Making his rounds around Whiskey River? Or was he in Lubbock with sweet little Emma? No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t resent the other woman. Any woman with eyes in her head would lust over Alex, so why should Emma be immune to his charms?
Brenne didn’t want to miss him. She didn’t want to want him anymore, didn’t want to admit that he’d broken her heart. The worst part was, she didn’t break his in return. Their time together, as little as it was, hadn’t meant a thing to him, it turned out. She realized she was falling back into the loop of destructive feelings, first deceptively good as she remembered their time together, then sad when she realized it was over, and finally angry because she didn’t like the way it had ended. Over and over she cycled through the same emotions. It was enough to make her feel chewed up, spit out, and stepped on.
She was itchy to get back in the saddle, so she pulled Ghost away from a stand of dry grass and mounted up. The ride back was just as pleasant as their trip out, with one minor difference. A few yards past the stables, she encountered another rider.