counting on it,” she answered cheerfully, and followed Gavin outside.
“I’ll meet you in front of the stables,” he told her.
They parted, and Sage headed toward her truck. As she drove the short distance to the stables, she caught sight of Cassie watching from the back porch, her form partially obscured by a thick wooden column.
Without thinking, Sage waved. Cassie ducked her head behind the column, then reappeared a second later, waving shyly in return.
An interesting family, Sage mused, though a little unusual. She supposed there was a lot more to them than met the eye.
Pulling up in front of the stables, she reminded herself why she was in Mustang Valley: capture the wild horse and collect four years’ worth of back child support from her ex.
Any distractions, most especially those in the form of a good-looking cowboy, were counterproductive. Not to mention inviting trouble.
Chapter Two
Gavin waited as Sage unlatched the trailer door and swung it wide. He expected the horse to bolt backward as most did after a long ride. Not so this one. The mare lifted her left rear foot and placed it gingerly down, as if not quite believing solid ground awaited. Her right rear foot followed, then the rest of her compact and sturdy body emerged inch by inch. Once standing on all fours, she turned her head with the regality of a visiting dignitary and surveyed her new surroundings.
“She’s a good-looking horse.” In fact, Gavin had never seen one with that same charcoal-gray coloring.
“Her name’s Avaro.” Sage reached under the mare’s impressively long mane to stroke her neck. “It’s Spanish for greedy. And trust me, it fits. She attacks every meal like it’s her last.”
“A mustang?”
“She was brought in on a roundup about three years ago in the Four Corners area. I had another horse at the time, a good one. But as soon as I saw Avaro, I wanted her.”
Gavin could appreciate that. He felt the same about his mustang.
“Not just because of her coat,” Sage continued, “though it’s pretty unusual.”
“She’d make a nice broodmare.” He was thinking of his own mares, the ones with mustang bloodlines.
Sage shrugged. “Maybe someday. Right now, I’m using her too much and too hard.”
“How long did it take you to break her?”
“Six months.” Sage laughed, her brown eyes filling with memories.
“That long?”
“It was weeks before she let me near her. Another month before I could put a halter on her.”
Gavin considered the information. He’d been hoping to start breeding the mustang stallion right away. Might be difficult if he couldn’t even get a halter on the horse. “Your perseverance paid off.”
“I told you, owning a feral horse isn’t easy.”
“I’m up to the task.”
She studied him with a critical eye. “I believe you are.”
The compliment, if indeed it was one, pleased him.
They started toward the stables with Sage leading Avaro, who observed everything with large intelligent eyes. It was that intelligence that had enabled her to survive by her wits in what had been a harsh and dangerous world. It was a quality he hoped to produce in his foals.
At the entrance to the stables, they heard a familiar rhythmic clinking.
“Do you think your farrier could have a look at Avaro’s right front hoof?” Sage asked. “Her shoe’s a little loose, and I don’t want any problems when we head out into the mountains.”
“That’s my brother, Ethan. As a rule, he only works on our horses, but I’m sure I could ask him to make an exception.”
“If there’s a local farrier—”
“It’s all right. Our regular guy’s usually booked several days out. We may not be able to get him here until after the weekend, and I know you don’t want to wait that long.”
“No, I don’t,” she agreed.
Gavin didn’t explain the reasons his brother only shoed their own horses. Farrier work was physically demanding and hard on Ethan’s prosthetic leg.
Fixing a single loose shoe, however, wasn’t nearly as strenuous. And like Sage, Gavin didn’t want to postpone capturing the wild mustang any longer than necessary. Business tended to slow down during the holidays. He wanted his stud and breeding operation well underway before then.
“You have a great setup,” Sage said appreciatively.
“Thanks.”
“How long has the ranch been here?”
At one time telling the history of his family’s ranch had been a source of pride. No more. Not after the past ten years. But because she was being friendly, he answered her question.
“My great-grandfather Abe Powell built the original house and stables after he moved here from Texas. According to my grandfather, he was evading the law.”
“Is it true?”
“I don’t know. But it makes for a good story.”
“When was that?”
“Right before the turn of the century. Last century. The house wasn’t much more than a shack. The stable consisted of six standing stalls and one box stall.”
“You’ve added on since then.” She smiled.
It was, Gavin observed, a nice smile. Open and honest.
“For thirty years, we had the only cattle operation in the area. Before he died, my great-grandfather was able to build the villa, the barn, the bunkhouse and expand the stables. We have thirty-two box stalls now. No standing stalls. And six pens out back along with three connecting two-acre pastures.”
Gavin stopped at an empty stall not far from where his brother worked on a large gelding. He unlatched the stall door, and Sage led her mare inside.
“My office will reimburse you the cost of boarding Avaro.”
“I’ll draw up an invoice.” He would have liked to tell her not to worry about it. But with six empty stalls, they could use the extra income.
They stood with forearms resting on the stall wall, watching Avaro acquaint herself with her new accommodations.
“With that much cattle, your family must own quite a bit of land.”
“We used to. Six hundred acres. All of Mustang
