Golden Chances (Jordan-Alexander Family 1)

“What about my pony? Can he come inside with us and sleep in my room?” Joy wanted to know.

“Absolutely not, sprite. Ponies do not sleep in little girls’ bedrooms. They sleep in cozy stalls in the barn with the other horses. Especially Shetland ponies like Brutus.”

“Can I go with you to put Brutus in the barn?” Joy asked.

“It’s awfully cold out, sprite. Why don’t you go inside the house with Faith while I take Brutus to the barn?” Reese was cold, tired, hungry, and suffering from a lack of sleep. Not that he was complaining about the way he’d lost sleep. He simply wanted to relax. He was in no mood to contend with a little girl or a stubborn pony. His patience was not inexhaustible. At the moment, it was paper thin.

“I want to go wit

h you!” Joy stamped her foot. “I want to help you tuck Brutus in bed.”

Reese looked to Faith for help. “Explain to Joy why she can’t go with me to the barn.”

“I can’t,” Faith told him. “I don’t understand myself. You insisted on buying her a pony against my better judgment, so the least, you can do is let her go with you.”

Dammit, today it seemed everyone had decided to turn on him.

“I seem to recall you saying something like, ‘She’ll take better care of a horse if she owns it.’” Faith reminded him, gray eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You promised you would teach me how to take care of him,” Joy piped up. “I want to go with you!”

“Oh, all right!” Reese took Joy’s hand, then walked around to the back of the buggy to untie the shaggy black pony.

“Can I ride him to the barn? Please?” Joy danced from foot to foot.

“Absolutely not!”

Faith waved goodbye, then turned and started up the stone steps to the house.

A high-pitched, childish squeal of delight halted her on the top step. She turned around.

Reese was leading the Shetland pony. He carried the lead rope in one hand, while he pressed his other hand against Joy’s back. She sat astride the short-legged pony, clinging to his black mane, while her own short legs bounced against the pony’s round belly. As Faith watched, Brutus stuck his nose into Reese’s coat pocket.

“I don’t have any sugar,” Reese informed him.

But the greedy pony persisted. He burrowed deeper into Reese’s pocket. The fabric gave way with a loud, tearing sound.

“Dammit!” Reese muttered, elbowing the pony’s muzzle in a futile effort to dislodge him.

“Don’t you hurt my pony, Weese!” Joy ordered, just as Brutus grabbed hold of the torn pocket and pulled it completely off Reese’s coat.

Reese stopped in his tracks and faced the pony.

Brutus pricked up his ears in a show of equine innocence and, with a toss of his head, sent the pocket sailing. Joy squealed with delight at her pony’s trick.

Reese shook his head and turned his back to the pony, unimpressed by the innocent display. He tugged on the lead. Brutus seized his opportunity. He twitched his tail, flattened his ears against his head, bared his strong teeth, and nipped Reese on the arm.

Faith thought she heard Reese mutter, “Et tu, Brute?” between the colorful curses, but she couldn’t be sure.

He tugged the lead rope once again and this time, Brutus plodded docilely at his side. Reese rubbed absently at his arm.

Faith opened the front door of the ranch house and stepped inside.

The interior of the house was as much a surprise as the exterior had been. She had expected the inside walls to be the same natural log as the exterior, but found they were paneled in a light oak. She expected rough plank floors and discovered they were hardwood, polished and sanded to a high gloss, and covered in places by Turkey carpets like the ones in the railroad car.

The room was, in fact, a larger version of Reese’s private car. Only the stone fireplace and the paintings were different. Faith relaxed, suddenly very comfortable with her surroundings. She removed her coat and gloves and carefully laid them across the arm of the leather sofa. She pulled the hatpin from her hair and balanced her hat atop the pile before moving to warm herself in front of the fire.

Faith took a deep breath. The delicious aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the house. She sniffed the air. Someone was in the kitchen, cooking. Moving away from the fire, Faith followed the enticing smells through the house and into the kitchen.