give you more than you’d get at the slaughterhouse, and I’ll take him off your hands. You can be rid of both of us tonight.”
A vein pulsed at Thornwood’s temple as his face reddened. “I’d rather beat the shit out of both of you.” He sneered at Cade. “And your precious witness won’t say a damned thing about it.”
Cade raised his eyebrows. “You think he’d lie for you?”
“I do.” Thornwood snapped the whip against the barn floor.
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Cade widened his stance. “But if you’re determined to pick a fight with me, bring it on.” He held Thornwood’s gaze. “Take your best shot.”
A flicker in those pale eyes told Cade all he needed to know. Bullies chose fights they were certain they could win, and Thornwood was no longer so certain, even with that whip.
Sure enough, he backed up a step and his lip curled. “You’re not worth the energy. Get the hell off my ranch. And take that nag with you.” He pivoted toward the barn’s entrance.
“Oh, no, you don’t! You’re selling him to me, not giving him away. I don’t intend to get jailed for stealing your horse.”
Thornwood paused but didn’t turn around. “How much you got?”
Cade gave him a figure, everything he had in his pocket minus what he needed to carry him until he had another job.
“Give it to Lindstrom. He’ll handle it.” Thornwood stalked out of the barn.
Douglas blew out a breath. “Damn. That was close.”
“He’s just like my old man. Once you stand up to guys like that, they fold.”
“Not always.”
“No, not always.” Cade had challenged his dad before he could back up the threat, and he had the scars to prove it. He dug the roll of bills out of his pocket. “I want something in writing that says I own this horse. Something with his signature on it.”
“I’ll see to it. You hitch up the trailer and get him loaded. I’ll have a signed bill of sale for you before you leave.”
“Thanks. I’ll need to take the halter, too, and borrow a lead rope. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Nah. If he even brings it up, I’ll tell him you’ll return those when you return my trailer.”
“I couldn’t manage this without you.” Cade gazed at the foreman. “I appreciate the help.”
“Glad to do it.”
“I won’t be that far away. We can still get together for a beer once in a while.”
“I’d like that.” The foreman pocketed the money. “Better get moving before he changes his mind.”
“Right. See you in a few.” Cade fished for his keys and headed out the back to fetch his truck. He really was going to miss the crusty old foreman.
His reason for gravitating toward him in the first place was no mystery. He resembled Cade’s foster father—about the same age with a similar wiry build and a no-nonsense attitude. Cade hadn’t set foot on Thunder Mountain Ranch in... Damn, had it really been five years?
He talked to Herb and Rosie on the phone several times a year and always on Christmas Eve, but he’d avoided an actual visit because of Lexi. That was a chickenshit reason. He needed to man up and make the trip, although he couldn’t expect vacation days for a while if he was about to start a new job.
Climbing into his truck, he drove behind the bunkhouse and hitched up Douglas’s trailer. Then he took a moment to call his buddy at the Bar Z to make sure spending the night there was still an option. Tomorrow Cade would talk to the owner about a job, and with luck he’d be employed again in no time. That was important, especially when he had another mouth to feed.
Convincing Thornwood to sell had been the easy part of this rescue operation. Now he had to get that high-strung horse in the trailer. The previous owner, the one who’d mishandled Hematite’s training, had given him a heavy-duty tranquilizer so he’d load. The drugged horse had staggered down the ramp the day he’d arrived.
This time Hematite would have to load and unload cold turkey. Cade considered that as he drove his truck around to the front of the barn. Lowering the ramp, he paused and took several deep breaths before going back into the barn.
His behavior would influence the horse, so the calmer he stayed, the better chance he’d have of keeping Hematite mellow. He visualized the horse walking quietly out of his stall, down the wooden aisle of the barn, then moving up into the trailer without hesitation.
Grabbing the rattiest-looking lead rope from the tack room, he started toward Hematite’s stall. The horse watched him, ears pricked forward. Cade usually saved his next technique for when he was alone with a horse. Nobody else was in the barn, so he began singing “Red River Valley.” Thanks to his time at Thunder Mountain Ranch, he had a whole repertoire of campfire songs, and normally they worked like a charm to settle nervous horses.
He’d only sung to Hematite a couple of times, though. They hadn’t developed a singing routine, but at this point anything was worth a try. He continued the sweet love song as he unlatched the stall door and stepped inside.
Hematite snorted and edged away. Still singing, Cade approached and managed to clip the lead rope onto the horse’s halter. Then he turned and walked out of the stall as if he thoroughly expected Hematite to follow him, no questions asked. The horse did.
Cade finished “Red River Valley” and moved on to “Tumbling Tumbleweeds.” He sang in rhythm with the steady clip-clop of Hematite’s hooves on the barn floor. Meanwhile he continued to visualize a smooth entrance into the horse trailer.
Out the barn door. Up the ramp. Cade kept singing. About three minutes later, the horse was loaded and the trailer doors secured. Cade stood there grinning and shaking his head in disbelief. That horse would be serenaded from now on.
“That’s about the slickest thing I ever did see.” Douglas came toward him from the direction of the house. “Were you singing to that animal?”
“Um, yeah.” Cade chuckled. “If you use the term loosely.”
“You’re no George Strait, but at least I could recognize the tune. I’ve heard of using songs to calm a herd of cattle, but I never thought of trying it with horses. How long you been doing that?”
“Three or four years, I guess.”
“No kidding. How’d you come up with it?”
“By accident. One day I was riding along, humming to myself for some reason, and I could feel my horse relax. So then I tried humming when I worked with a problem horse, and that seemed to help. I don’t know if singing is any better than humming, but it’s more interesting for me.”
“I’ll be damned.” Douglas rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I’ll just have to try it. Although I sound like a mating bullfrog, so it might not work for me. Can’t believe I’ve known you for almost two years and never realized you were a singing cowboy.”
