Paradise Peak (New Americana 5)

Travis moved away, carefully sidestepping the pup, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hello.”

“Travis is here to pick up the new horse.” Carl smiled at Zeke, who continued to stare. “You know, the overo you like?” He looked at Travis and shrugged. “Just step around him and he’ll follow. The mare’s right through here. I’ll turn her out into the paddock, give you a chance to get acquainted, then y’all can . . .”

Travis watched Carl’s back as he walked further away toward the stable. He glanced down at Zeke, who still stood in his way, studying him. The kid was cute but tiny, and Travis didn’t know a thing about toddlers. Something about Zeke’s direct stare made Travis’s hands clammy.

“You’ve got a good-looking pup,” Travis said, smiling down at the Lab snuffling around his boots.

He leaned down, let the dog get a few sniffs of his hand, and patted it on the head. Blondie yipped, then resumed sniffing his boots, pants leg, and the dirt.

Straightening, Travis shifted from one foot to the other, then cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” He stepped carefully around the boy and the pup. “I need to—”

Zeke shot right back in front of him, short legs planted, and big eyes fixed firmly on Travis’s face.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” Travis said. “I need to help Hannah load up the horse.”

No response. The kid kept staring, and the dog stuck her nose right back on his boot.

Travis spread his hands. “Look, I’ve got to go now.”

Zeke didn’t budge, and neither did the dog.

Travis glanced at the stable and noticed Hannah and a brunette walk out of the entrance and lean on the fence by a paddock adjacent to the stable, casting glances his way. Nice. Hannah was waiting for his help and here he was, trying to figure out how to reason with a pup and . . . what—a four-year-old?

“How old are you?” Travis asked.

Zeke held up his fingers and smiled.

Travis smiled back. “Three.” Okay. He’d guessed pretty close. “That’s good. Now I hate to run, but—”

“Walk me.” Zeke darted to Travis’s side and looked up at him expectantly. The dog followed him, tail wagging.

Travis frowned. “What?”

Zeke stuck out his small hand. “You walk me.”

“Oh.” Travis looked at the stable. Carl had already made it inside. “All right.”

Travis rubbed his left hand over his jeans, then held it out awkwardly, waiting until Zeke clutched it. Gently, Travis closed his hand around the boy’s and nodded.

“Off we go,” Travis said, taking the first step forward.

His stride was much longer than Zeke’s and Blondie’s, so he took slow, measured steps and waited after each one as the boy and pup caught up. After a few steps, they achieved a comfortable pace and Travis smiled down at Zeke, who talked to Blondie as they walked.

When they drew close to the stable, a black and white horse darted out from behind the back corner and galloped into the paddock adjacent to the stable. Powerful muscles flexed along the mare’s frame as she moved, her black mane rippling behind her.

Zeke squealed and pointed with his free hand. “Oreo!”

“Overo,” a male voice corrected.

Travis tore his attention away from the energetic horse and focused on the man exiting the stable and striding toward him. He’d expected Carl. Instead, a man wearing a dark uniform, gold badge, and duty belt packed with a firearm approached.

Travis’s blood ran cold.

“See you found my boy,” the man said. “Or rather, he found you. Carl said he lost you somewhere along the way.” He drew closer, glanced at Zeke’s grip on Travis’s hand, then said, “I’m Ben Tennyson. You’re Travis Miller?”

* * *

“Is that him?”