to the core.”
Hand to her shoulder, Dylan guided her to the outside of the pen, then walked back around to the rear of the enclosed vehicle.
Emily’s heartbeat picked up as he opened the trailer and let the first horse out.
It was a filly, about six months old, with a speckled white coat and an ivory mane, her beauty marred only by the identifying freeze marks on her neck. She whinnied as she came barreling out of confinement and raced to the other end of the pen. Emily could see she was frightened—she was standing with her tail puckered tight against her hindquarters and the back of her legs.
Dylan stood quietly, as did Emily, as the filly trembled and kept her head up.
Dylan let the second horse out—a jet-black gelding about a year old. His head was up, too—his tail wringing in anger. Obviously, he had not appreciated the long ride. Or maybe the procedure that had put the freeze marks on his neck, Emily thought. He galloped across the pen, his ebony mane flying, and took a protective position next to the smaller white filly.
They were already forming a herd, Emily thought.
Moving purposefully and calmly, Dylan stepped out and shut the gate. The first truck drove off.
The next trailer backed toward the pen.
When it was in position, Dylan opened the gate and released the third horse.
Emily caught her breath as the mare kicked and bucked her way out of the trailer. The color of ginger, she had darker-colored legs, a dark ginger mane and a striking white blaze down her forehead. Her tail was stiff and pointed up as she kicked and reared her way across the pen. Once near the other horses, she raised up on her hind legs again, her ears pinned back, whinnying furiously at the humans she blamed for her captivity.
Turning her rear to the other two horses, she backed up and pawed the ground.
Dylan smiled.
So did Emily.
“No doubt who is in charge of the herd,” she said, nodding at the ginger mare.
The question was, who was going to be in charge of her and Dylan—if she spent any time alone with him? She’d only been around him a short while and she was already thinking about how thrilling it would be to kiss him again.
“So what next?” Willfully, Emily turned her attention back to the mustangs.
“I let them settle in for a few days to recover from the trip, get used to their surroundings and begin to trust this is a place they are going to like.”
Made sense. “When it’s time, I’d like to help you with their training,” Emily offered.
Dylan glanced at her skeptically. For reasons she did not understand, his doubt hurt. “Don’t think I can do it?”
Dylan shook his head and sauntered toward the barn. “Let’s just say I don’t think your family would approve.”
Emily followed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
For some reason, Emily thought, that struck a chord—one he didn’t like.
He let his glance trail over her, lazily inspecting every curve, before returning to her face. “You have a major challenge facing your business.” He picked up a bale of hay and carried it back over to the corral. “Why don’t you concentrate on that?”
Emily watched him cut the twine, holding it together. She scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. “I can do both.”
“Really?” Methodically, Dylan broke up the square of crisp sweet hay. He tossed it over the fence. “Then you must be a superwoman.”
Emily watched the mustangs. The herd was still on the other side of the pen but contemplating every move Dylan made. “I am an excellent horsewoman.”
Dylan threw out the last of the feed and exhaled in frustration. He slowly straightened and poked up the brim of his hat. “Why don’t you do us both a favor, Emily, and stick to cooking?”
Emily didn’t know whether to slug him or kiss him. Truth was, she wanted to do both. “Why won’t you let me help?”
Her pique increased his own irritation. “Because you don’t work for me.” He walked over to turn on the spigot and fill the trough with water. “I don’t have enough liability insurance. I don’t have time to train them and you, too. Pick a reason.”
The mustangs made their way stealthily toward the feed. “Can I at least come by and watch from time to time?”
He rubbed the underside of his jaw, testing the stubble of afternoon beard. Their glances met and held. “If I say no, will you stay away?”
Emily offered a careless shrug. “Maybe.” The silence between them drew out, prompting her to eventually admit, with a reluctantly candid sigh, “Maybe not.”
His expression hardened. “That’s what I thought.”
She didn’t know why she wanted his respect so badly in this regard, she just knew that she did, and she wished he would give her a chance to earn it. “Dylan—”
He turned off the spigot with a harsh twist.
His eyes narrowed as he regarded her intently. “Do us both a favor, Emily. Go back to your family. Work out whatever needs to be worked out.” He lifted a gloved hand before she could interrupt. “And leave me—and these horses—out of it.”
* * *
LATE THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Dylan answered another summons from Shane McCabe. He met with Emily’s father in the study of the Circle M Ranch house, where they discussed the condition of the mustangs and Dylan’s plan for training them.
It was a cordial, productive meeting and, despite himself, Dylan found himself warming to the elder rancher.
Usually, he did not care for men of such power and wealth, although he never minded doing business with them. Money was money, and they easily paid the fees Dylan commanded.
At the conclusion of their discussion, Shane handed Dylan a check, as previously agreed upon. “This should cover your time and the expenses of caring for the mustangs for the first month. If you need anything else, be sure and let me know.”
“Thank you.”
Before Dylan could get up, Shane said, “If you’ve got a moment, I’d like to speak with you about the Libertyville Boys Ranch. The director—Mike Harrigan—is a friend of mine. He mentioned your devotion to the facility.”
This was headed toward territory Dylan had no wish to discuss. He lifted a hand to cut off the discussion. “It’s no big deal.”
Shane leaned forward earnestly. “On the contrary, it’s a very big deal, Dylan. The boys ranch turns a lot of young lives around. I want to do more than just provide a few horses. So here’s what I was thinking...” Shane elaborated for the next few minutes. Finally, he finished, “And given your expertise in this area, I’d really like your help in making that dream a reality.”
