they associated sounds with a particular command and knew what was being asked of them. Goldy daintily backed out and Dev followed with the nylon lead in her hand. Once the mare was out of the trailer, Goldy perked up, lifting her chiseled head, eagerly looking around, her nostrils flared to pick up all the new scents.
As Dev walked to her side, smoothing out her long ruffled black mane, Sloan reappeared at the entrance to the barn. “Is it ready?” she called.
“Sure is. Come on in.”
Smiling a little, Dev led her mare toward the barn. Already, she could hear the welcoming nickers of other horses who heard the buckskin coming their way. Horses were social animals and always preferred being in a herd. Dev was sure that Goldy would make some good friends soon.
“She’s a nice-looking animal,” Sloan said, walking with her down the clean, swept concrete aisle between the ten box stalls. “Mustang?”
“Part,” Dev said, watching Goldy as she swung her head one way or another as she clip-clopped down the aisle way. “Part mustang and part Arabian.”
“Nice combo,” Sloan said. “You’re slender and delicate, and so is she. A good match.”
Dev wasn’t sure she was small at five feet seven inches tall, but she supposed in comparison to Sloan, she was. “I wanted a trail horse that had her instincts,” she explained.
“That’s wise,” Sloan agreed. He stepped out of the way because she was going to have to swing Goldy wide to step into her awaiting oak box stall.
The whinnies of the other animals grew in volume, a pleasant horse chorus welcoming Goldy to her new home. Her mare whickered back in a friendly fashion, as if thanking them for their welcome. All the curious horses had their faces pressed against the wide iron bars across the upper half of each of the stall gates, watching their progress. The sweet smell of alfalfa and timothy hay made Dev inhale deeply. It was like perfume to her. She spotted the open door at the end, on the right stall. The other enclosures were all filled, probably with either USFS-owned horses or horses privately owned by some of the rangers.
It was warmer in the barn due to the body heat of the ten animals. The breeze was cold, flowing in and out of the barn. Dev was pleased to see thick cedar shavings in Goldy’s new stall. To her left was a steel watering bowl that had a heater in it to keep the water from icing up when below freezing. Hanging in a net in the corner near the bars at the front was a flake of timothy hay. Goldy eagerly stepped up into the roomy stall, plunging her nose into the large watering bowl.
Looking around, Dev wanted to see if there were any nails or other items that could accidentally injure her mare. The stall was bright, large and airy with a second window opposite the sliding door. Horses hated being in dark stalls. They got depressed just like a human without adequate light. Slipping the snap off Goldy’s halter, she pulled the door halfway shut and slowly examined every oak panel in the stall. She could feel Sloan’s silent interest, her back prickling lightly where his gaze rested upon her. Before Gordon’s attack, Dev wouldn’t have reacted to any male interest with anxiety, but now, she did. Moving her hand along the wall, fingertips skimming the sanded, honey-colored hardwood, Dev told herself that Sloan was not Gordon. Or was he? Looks were so damned deceiving. Feeling guilty because Sloan did not deserve this kind of paranoid reaction from her, Dev turned and walked to the other side of her mare, who was lifting her muzzle from the bowl, water dripping from it.
“This is nice,” Dev said, pointing to the water dish. “Not only self-filling, but with the temperature gauge in there, it will keep ice from forming over the top of it.”
Sloan leaned against the stall and nodded. “I think you’ll find everything in the stall in shipshape. Charlotte is a nice lady, but she’s strict about keeping the animals clean and safe, too. She’s a good supervisor and I think you’ll like meeting her.”
Pushing her hair away from her face, Dev patted Goldy on her broad wither one more time and then slid the door open and stepped out. The horse next to her, a big gray gelding with a black mane and tail, had his nose pressed between the iron bars, wanting to say hello to Goldy. But Goldy was more interested in that clean-smelling timothy hay in the hanging net after sating her thirst.
“I have an appointment to officially meet her tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m.,” Dev said. Glancing at her watch, she said, “Next order of business is to find my new apartment. I leased it over the phone after going on the internet and looking at what was available in this area.”
Sloan took the heavy oak door and slid it closed, and then latched it so the mare couldn’t possibly get out. “I’ll bet you had sticker shock on the prices of an apartment and condo here in Jackson Hole.”
Groaning, Dev said, “Yes. Even worse, I have a dog and most places don’t allow you to have a pet, so it got pretty worrisome.” She rubbed her hands down the thighs of her Levi’s and hung Goldy’s red nylon lead on a horseshoe that was attached to the door.
“There are two places that allow pets,” Sloan said. “The Pines, where I live, and a condo group known as Winterhaven. Which did you rent at?”
Dev walked slowly down the aisle toward her truck at the other end. “I took a two-bedroom apartment at The Pines. It was a lot cheaper. I mean, it wasn’t really cheap at all, just less than Winterhaven.”
“That’s a good choice. It’s a nice place. I live there with my dog, Mouse.”
She smiled a little, feeling a sense of protection coming from Sloan as he walked at her shoulder. He’d pulled his gloves off and stuffed them in his back pocket. The male grace of the man told her he was in top shape, although pretty much hidden from the waist up with his utilitarian Carhartt heavy canvas jacket. She could always tell a real rancher or farmer from the wannabes. That particular line of clothing was built tough for hardworking men and women. Instead of buttons, they were fastened with rivets. Dev had a dark brown Carhartt jacket packed away in her suitcase and would always be wearing it anytime she was working in the barn or around Goldy when it was cold. “What were the chances we’d meet each other on that highway? And that you’d be a ranger like myself? And then we end up living at the same apartment complex?”
Sloan shrugged and slanted her an amused look. “Dharma? Or Karma, depending upon how you take it all in.”
“Kismet,” Dev said. His low, husky teasing flowed through her and touched her heart. She chided herself inwardly for thinking Sloan was a wolf in sheep’s clothing just like Gordon. The warmth dancing in Sloan’s blue eyes made her feel safe. And since the assault, Dev had not felt safe at all. Anywhere. With any man. Except Sloan. Frowning a little, she tucked her feelings away, concentrating on leaving the barn. Above, some sunlight managed to peek through the gray fluffy clouds gathering with what looked like rain or snow.
Sloan lifted his Stetson, ran his fingers through his short hair and settled it on his head. “I’m going that way. Got to get out to the Triple H to shoe some of their horses. Want to follow me?”
“Yes, you’re really being a guardian angel for me, Sloan.”
“Okay, but first, back your trailer over there.” He pointed to five other trailers that sat in a neat row east of the barn.
Dev was used to hauling and backing up her horse trailer. It wasn’t hard to do, but one had to know how to turn the wheels on the truck to back the trailer straight and next to the red-and-white one at the end. “Got it.”
“I’ll help you.”
“I
