She never asked for help either. Not from the men in Green Point at least. She fixed her own fences and appeared to do the repairs that needed to be done herself. She didn’t leave room for anybody to have a chance to help her. As frustrating as it was, I found it really attractive. She ran the sanctuary on a tight budget with grants and donations. There was nothing fancy about the small two-story cabin she lived in either. The whole operation was simple and modest—like Cheyenne herself.
Maybe it was a good thing that she kept her distance. There was no doubt in my mind that being alone with Cheyenne would spell trouble for me. Lust flared in me at the thought of having an opportunity to kiss those pink lips that smiled warmly in my direction whenever I drove by. I considered myself a good guy, but it only took one look from those forest-colored eyes before I felt that impulse.
That was what landed me in trouble most of the time. It had been too long since I’d enjoyed the touch of a woman if I was now fantasizing about a woman I’d only spoken to a handful of times. I needed to do something to get that fantasy out of my head.
I looked up through the front windows just in time to see Cheyenne drive by towing her trailer. The influx of horses never seemed to stop, no matter what time of day it was. I had to give Cheyenne the respect she was due for her dedication to helping out with abused animals, but it seemed to be the only thing in her life that she paid attention to or cared about. Everything else was a disaster—according to Tiffany, at least, including her previous love life.
“This is good whiskey,” Michael commented, interrupting my thoughts of Cheyenne. “Have a drink, neighbor. A toast to new opportunities.”
I gladly poured myself a glass to toast with Michael. The alcohol burned the back of my throat, distracting me from the other fire brewing in my gut as I watched Cheyenne’s truck turn right in the direction of the vet clinic. If only those new opportunities Michael spoke of included Cheyenne. I shook my head free of that thought and clinked my glass against Michael’s.
We both took a long and hearty drink. “Amen to that, buddy. Amen to that. Toast to your parents too. I’m sure they are proud of you.”
I didn’t bother correcting that. But I knew they weren’t proud of me. I couldn’t tell Michael that the last time I had talked to my father on the phone was over a year ago and that it had ended in an argument that put cracks in our very foundation.
Chapter Three
Cheyenne
I gritted my teeth in aggravation when the stallion shifted away from my hands. He was covered with blood. Multiple scars of all ages were evident, and his bones were all too prominent. He was nothing but a spooked pile of bones beneath my fingers. Even still, I could tell he was an amazing horse. I couldn’t wait to get him back in better shape just to see it.
Bill Coates was going to hell for this.
It didn’t surprise me when Jacob told me that it was Bill Coates who had refused to pay and, worse, refused to take responsibility for the treatment of his animals. I didn’t want to think about the other horses and animals that lived on his ranch miles out of Green Point. This horse wasn’t the first to come to Jacob’s clinic. “It won’t be the last either,” Jacob had said gravely. “Bill Coates has friends here in town that work with the sheriff. He’ll never get an animal abuse charge because his ranch produces money. We took the horse away, but that’s about the most we can do with the sheriff being in his pocket.”
That would change though. A couple of calls to a few advocate groups would also change the way Bill Coates treated his animals.
The stallion whinnied uneasily, again shifting away from my touch. He pulled at the rope I had tethered to the gate until I could get him fully cleaned. A few of the wounds that Jacob had treated needed to be washed before I applied the medicine.
“I know, buddy
,” I said and smoothed a hand down his neck. The muscles there tensed up, but he didn’t pull away. “In a couple of days, you’ll be perfectly happy here at the sanctuary; I promise.”
He snorted hard. I bit back a smile as I finished up washing the dried flecks of blood from his coat, and then towel dried him as best as I could before applying the cream. He took off into the field, happy to join the other horses the second I unclipped the rope from his bridle.
I watched as he trotted around the group, whinnying the entire time as the other horses greeted him happily. Strong muscle despite the malnourishment shifted underneath a shiny black coat. He stopped to graze on the patch of grass where a group of horses were gathered.
The phone rang inside my office. Wiping my hands as I walked, I hurried into the office to pick up the landline.
“Cheyenne’s Horse Sanctuary. How can I help you?”
“You’re answering the phone on a Sunday morning? I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.”
I leaned against the desk with a smile at the exasperation in Tiffany’s voice. “I don’t know why you would be. You’re normally down here with me on Sundays.”
“I know. Sorry I didn’t get there today. Colt needed me to go over the books and some paperwork at the ranch today.”
“Don’t apologize for that,” I said, frowning. “You have another ranch to care for. You’re helping me out by volunteering your time. I would never expect you to abandon the place that supplies your income.”
Everyone in Green Point knew that Tiffany and Colt Smith were set for the rest of their lives financially—even if they closed the ranches down. Apparently, their parents had been really smart about their money from what I gathered through the grapevine around town. Everyone respected the Smiths.
Tiffany had been the first person to come offer to help with the sanctuary. She split her time between my ranch and her own while Colt had opened up a restaurant in town. There were rumors that neither of them really wanted to carry on with the ranches, but felt they should keep them, especially the one in Green Point, because local residents were employed on the ranch.
“It’s really just a pain in my ass at this point,” Tiffany said flatly. “Colt refuses to do anything now. He signs off on contracts, but that’s about it anymore.”
I looked out the barn window to where the horses were still grazing on dry grass. Clouds were gathering on the horizon—a promise of rain later in the afternoon. I would need to gather them up and get them into the barn, which would be a tedious task since they’d gotten a taste of the pasture.
Curiosity got the better of me when it came to the mention of Colt. He did ranch work at times, from what I had seen since coming to Green Point. I had sometimes watched him walk along the fields of the Smith ranch, checking the fences and chewing on a piece of hay. Those were the times that he looked truly peaceful. A sharp contrast to the dark and brooding look he had after the accident that took the life of his parents.