Читать книгу Home To Blue Stallion Ranch - Stella Bagwell - Страница 12
ОглавлениеWalking to his office, Isabelle was careful to keep a respectable distance from Holt Hollister. She had no idea if Emily-Ann’s remarks about him being a ladies’ man were true or just rumors. Either way, she didn’t want to give him the impression that she was interested in anything more than his horses.
“You must have assumed I start the day early,” he said.
“All horse trainers start the day long before daylight,” she replied. “That is, the good ones do.”
He let out a dry chuckle. “Does that mean you put me in the company of the good ones?”
His voice was raspy, like he’d just lifted his head from the pillow after a long sleep. The sound shivered right through her.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Hollister, but I don’t go by hearsay. So I can’t really answer your question—yet.”
Her reply didn’t appear to annoy him, rather he had an amused look on his face. “I’ve heard some things about you, too. But I don’t rely on hearsay either.”
Isabelle couldn’t imagine what he might have heard about her. She doubted it could’ve been much, though. Since she’d moved here, she’d only made a few acquaintances around town.
At the end of the barn, he opened a door on the left and motioned for her to proceed him through it.
Isabelle stepped past him and into the small room that looked more like a tack room than an office. Jammed with a messy desk, two wooden chairs, and a row of file cabinets, it was also littered with bits and bridles, saddle blankets and pads, leather cinches and breast harnesses. In one corner, there was even a worn saddle thrown over a wooden sawhorse.
“Have a seat,” he invited. “You might want to wipe the dust off first, though. We don’t do much cleaning out here in the barn. It doesn’t do much good.”
“I’m used to dust.” And mud. Rain and snow. Heat and cold. Early and late. In the horse business, a person had to get used to all those things and much, much more.
While she settled herself in one of the wooden chairs sitting in front of the desk, he placed the stainless steel vacuum cup he’d been carrying on the desktop, then walked over to a heater and adjusted the thermostat.
Back at the desk, he took a seat in a leather executive chair and picked up the receiver on a landline telephone. After punching a button, he promptly said, “Reeva, as soon as Jazelle shows up—oh, she has—that’s good. Send her on with the pastries, would you? And more coffee.” He paused. “That’s right. The horse barn. Not the foaling barn. Thanks.”
He hung up the phone, then leveled his attention directly on Isabelle. “My brother Blake tells me you’ve bought the old Landry ranch. Are you living there now?”
Isabelle nodded. “I am. The Landry family had been out of the house for a long time and it needed some repairs. Fortunately, I’ve gotten most of them done. At least to where the place is comfortable now. The barns and utility sheds were in far better shape than the house. There are still areas of the ranch that need plenty of work and changes made, but it’s good enough for me to start adding horses to the ones I already have.”
He looked somewhat surprised. “You already have horses?”
“That’s right. Ten in all. Two geldings for work purposes and eight broodmares that are currently in foal to a stallion back in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I don’t have a stallion of my own yet. But like I said yesterday, I’m looking to buy. Preferably a blue roan that’s proven to throw color and produce hearty babies.”
He suddenly grinned and Isabelle felt her breath catch in her throat. She could definitely see why the rumors of being a ladies’ man followed him around. He was charming without even trying. But she’d been around men of his caliber before. They weren’t meant to be taken seriously.
“We’d all like one of those, Ms. Townsend.”
She shook her head. “Please call me Isabelle. After all, we’re neighbors. Even if it is eighteen miles to my place.”
“Okay, Isabelle. Since you seem determined to add to your workload, I’ll show you a few mares I might be willing to part with. But I don’t have a stallion I want to sell. Maybe in a year or two. But not now.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “That’s okay. I’ll be happy to look at anything you have.”
The room was getting nice and warm so Isabelle untied the fur-edged hood of her jacket and allowed it to slip to her back. As she shook her hair free, she noticed he was watching her as though he was trying to gauge what was beneath the surface. The idea was disturbing, but it didn’t offend her. She was a complete stranger to the man. In his line of business, he had a right to wonder about her character and how she might care for the animals he sold her.
“You mentioned Albuquerque. Is that where you’re from originally?”
She shook her head. “No. I was born in California and lived there all of my life until I, uh, married and moved with my husband to New Mexico.”
Beneath the brim of his battered gray hat, she could see one of his dark brows quirk upward.
“Oh. You’re married then?”
She felt like telling him that her marital status really had nothing to do with her buying horses. But she didn’t want to irk him again. At least, not before she had a chance to do business with the man. Besides, her being a divorcée was hardly a secret, even if it was something that made her feel like a failure as a woman.
“No. I’ve been divorced for more than a year now. He still lives in New Mexico. I decided to move here.” She gave him a wide smile to let him know she was feeling no regrets about her ex or the move to Arizona. “And so far I love it. The Landry Ranch was just what I was looking for.”
He reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out three long items wrapped in aluminum foil and placed them on the desk. From the scents drifting her way, Isabelle guessed he’d been carrying around his breakfast.
“I imagine you’ve changed the ranch’s name by now,” he said.
Her smile grew wider. “I have. To Blue Stallion Ranch. I might not own him now. But I will make my dream come true one day.”
“I see. Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“When a woman dreams for her future, she does put a lot of thought into it. And the dream of Blue Stallion Ranch is something I’ve had for a long time.”
He started to say something, but a knock on the open door of the office interrupted him. Isabelle looked over her shoulder to see a tall blond woman about her own age entering the room carrying a large lunch bucket and a tall metal thermos.
“Breakfast is here,” she announced cheerfully. “The pastries are fresh and the coffee is hot, so you’d better dig in.”
“Jazelle, you’re an angel in blue jeans,” he told the woman. “I’ll dance at your wedding with cowbells on.”
Jazelle pushed aside a stack of papers and placed the containers on the desktop. “Ha! You won’t be wearing cowbells or anything else to my wedding. ’Cause that ain’t going to happen. And yes, I said ain’t—so there!”
He responded to the woman’s caustic reply with a loud laugh. “Sure, Jazelle. You and Camille have sworn off men for the rest of your lives. I’ve heard it all before, but I don’t believe a word of it.”
She glared at him. “Well, you’d better believe it, buddy! And if you had any sense, you’d swear off women, too.”
He coughed awkwardly and Jazelle turned an apologetic look on Isabelle. “Sorry,” she said, then shaking her head, she laughed. “Uh—Holt and I like to tease. We really love each other. Don’t we, Holt?”
He grinned. “Just like brother and sister,” he said, then gestured to Isabelle. “Jazelle, meet Isabelle. She’s our new neighbor to the north. She’s a horsewoman.”
Isabelle rose and extended her hand to the other woman. “Nice to meet you, Jazelle. And thank you for bringing the breakfast. It smells heavenly.”
Jazelle’s handshake was hearty and sincere and Isabelle liked her immediately.
“The cook and I bake pastries every other day. These just came out of the oven.” She continued to eye Isabelle. “I’m sorry I’m staring. But you’re just too darn pretty to be a horsewoman.”
Isabelle laughed. “And you’re too kind.”
Jazelle left the office and Isabelle looked around to see Holt had opened the lunch bucket and was in the process of filling two foam cups with coffee.
“Let’s eat,” he said. “There’s creamer and sugar for your coffee if you want it. And take what pastries you want. I have three chorizo and egg tacos. You’re welcome to one of them, too.”
“No, thanks. One of these cinnamon rolls will be enough.” She poured creamer into her coffee and with the cup and roll in hand, she sat back down in the chair.
Through the open doorway, Isabelle could hear the horses exchanging whinnies and the familiar clanking of gates as each stall door was opened and closed. Above those sounds was the faint hum of a radio and the noise of the workers as they called to each other.
Someday, she thought, her barn would sound like this. Look like this. With mares and foals everywhere and plenty of ranch hands taking care of the chores. As much as Trevor had tried to make her happy, he’d never shared Isabelle’s dream of having a horse farm. He’d only tolerated her obsession with equines because he’d been smart enough to know if he’d given her an ultimatum, she would’ve chosen the horses over him.
“Is working with horses something you’ve done for a while?” he asked. “Or is this a new venture for you?”
Isabelle swallowed a bite of the roll before she answered. “I first started riding when I was five years old. That’s when my mom introduced me to a little brown pony named Albert. And I fell in love. By the time I got to be a teenager, I wanted to be a jockey, but Mom steered me away from that and into reining and cutting competitions. She considered being a jockey too dangerous.”
He grunted with amusement. “Walking through the mare’s paddock at feeding time is dangerous.”
“That’s true. But anyway, I got into the reining thing in a big way and eventually started training for breeders in southern California. After I moved to New Mexico, I began to acquire the mares.”
“I see. So until now, you’ve not actually had a horse ranch?”
She sipped the coffee, then shook her head. “Believe it or not, my ex-husband was overly generous in the divorce settlement just so I’d have plenty to purchase the property and the horses.”
The taco in his hand paused halfway to his mouth. “That’s hard to fathom.”
No. She didn’t expect him to understand. Something about Holt Hollister said he was the sort who’d love with all his heart, or not at all. And whatever he possessed, he’d fight to keep. Whether that be a wife, or material assets.
“I realize it sounds a bit crazy,” she said. “But we’re still good friends. And he wants me to be happy. Add to that, the man has more money than he knows what to do with. That’s the way with some folks in the oil industry. Money flows and things are acquired so easily that after a while everything loses its luster.” She cleared her throat, confused and embarrassed that she’d shared such personal things with this man. “Anyway, Trevor is a good and generous man. And he’s made it possible to invest in my dreams.”
“Lucky you.”
His quipped reply rankled her, but she carefully hid her reaction. “There was nothing lucky about it. I didn’t ask for the money. Or the divorce.”
His gaze dropped to the cup he was holding. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Was he really sorry? She doubted it. But then his opinion of her personal life hardly mattered. After today, she wouldn’t be rubbing shoulders with the man.
“Forget it,” she told him. “I have.”
* * *
She might’ve already forgotten, but Holt hadn’t. Damn it!
He didn’t know how their conversation had turned to such personal issues. One minute they’d been talking about her connection to horses and the next she was telling him about her divorce.
Hell! He didn’t care if she was married with five kids or devotedly single. He didn’t care if she had a good and generous ex-husband. And he sure didn’t care that she was the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. To Holt, she was a horse buyer. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Has your family always owned Three Rivers Ranch?”
Her question jerked Holt out of his reverie and he looked at her as he swallowed down the last bite of taco.
“The Hollisters first built this ranch back in 1847. Since then it’s always been a family thing.”
“Wow! That must go back through several generations,” she said, then shrugged. “I can’t remember the house my parents and I lived in when I entered middle school, much less know what sort of place they had when I was born. They were nomads. Still are.”
“So you think you want to root down.” He wished she’d quit talking about homes and family. She didn’t look the sort and he was as far from a family man as Earth was from Mars.
“More than anything,” she said with conviction.
Jazelle had brought a few little pecan tortes along with the cinnamon rolls. He gobbled down two of them and was finishing his coffee as fast as he could when she said, “I realize you’re in a hurry to get me out of your hair, but at the pace you’re eating, you’re going to have stomach issues.”
Dear Lord, was there nothing she missed? “I always eat fast. Otherwise, I might not have the chance to eat at all. If you’re finished with your coffee, we’ll go have a look at the horses.”
Smiling faintly, she leaned forward and gracefully placed her cup on the edge of his desk. “I’m ready any time you are.”
Rising from the desk chair, he pulled on his jacket and buttoned it up to his throat. By then, she’d gotten to her feet and fastened the hood over all that white-blond hair and pulled on a pair of fuzzy black mittens. She looked as sweet as Christmas candy and as fragile as a sparrow’s wing. How could this woman ever manage to work a horse ranch?
That’s none of your concern, Holt. All you need to do is keep your mind on your job and off the way Isabelle Townsend looks or sounds or smells. She’s not your type. She never will be.
Shoving away the mocking reminder in his head, he gestured toward the door. “You’re welcome to look at the mares and babies here in the barn, but none of them are for sale. Anything I might be willing to part with is outside.”
“I’d love to take a leisurely look. But you’re just as busy as I am. Let’s just head on outside.”
Her response should have pleased him. The quicker he could get this meeting over with, the better. Yet he had to admit a part of him had wanted to show her some of the fine babies his mares had delivered in the past few days. Like a proud dad, he would’ve enjoyed sticking out his chest and preening just a little. But she wasn’t going to give him the chance.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll exit the barn on this end.”
* * *
Outside the building, she followed him over to a ten-acre patch surrounded by a tall board fence.
“This is where I keep the mares that have two or three weeks before foaling,” he told her. “When they start getting to that point in their gestation, I like to keep a closer eye on them.”
“Do you have a resident vet here on the ranch?”
“My older brother Chandler is the vet,” he told her. “If something comes up that I can’t handle, he’ll come running.”
“I’m just now putting two and two together,” she said thoughtfully. “He must run the Hollister Animal Hospital. Does he live here on the ranch, too?”
Her question reminded Holt that he and his baby sister, Camille, were the only Hollister siblings left who didn’t have a spouse and children. As for Camille, he couldn’t speak for her wants and wishes, but on most days Holt was happy he was still footloose and fancy-free. There were too many women in the world to waste his life on just one.
“Yes, with his wife, Roslyn, and baby daughter, Evelyn.”
A bright smile suddenly lit her face. “Oh, so there’s a baby in the house. How nice.”
“It’s nice and noisy. There are three babies in the house. Blake has twins.” Curious, in spite of himself, he glanced at her. “Do you have children?”
To his surprise, a pink blush appeared on her cheeks. “No. Trevor wasn’t the type for fatherhood. But I’m hoping I’ll be a mother someday. What about you—do you have children?”
He chuckled. “Not any that I know of.”
She didn’t reply, but the scornful expression on her face spoke volumes.
“I’m teasing,” he felt inclined to say. “I don’t have any children. And I don’t plan on having any. I have plenty of four-legged babies to keep me happy.”
She cut him another dry glance. “At least you know to stick to your calling.”
If any other woman had said such a thing to him, he would’ve laughed. But hearing it from this blond beauty was altogether different. For some reason, it made him feel small and sleazy.
“At least I know my calling,” he agreed. “Do you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Suddenly Blake’s voice was back in his head, reminding him to be nice to Isabelle. But damn it, Blake wasn’t the one dealing with the woman. Holt was. And with each passing minute, she was getting deeper and deeper under his skin.
“I’m wondering if you’ve really thought about what you’re taking on. Raising horses isn’t an easy job.”
“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be rewarding, now would it?” she asked. “And I know all about hard work.”
The sweetness in her voice was overlaid with conviction and Holt decided she was one of those stubborn females who’d rather die trying to prove a point than admit she might be wrong.
They reached the paddock and he opened a wide gate so the two of them could walk out to where the mares were munching hay from rows of mangers.
As they neared the horses, Holt pointed to one in particular. “I have one mare in this bunch that I’d be willing to part with and that’s Blossom, the little chestnut over there with the star on her forehead and snip on her nose. She’s made perfectly, I’d just prefer her to be a tad bigger. She was bred late—in May to be exact, so she should have a late April or early May baby.”
“I’ll go take a look.”
They walked over to the mare and as she approached the horse for a closer look, Holt opened his mouth to remind her to be cautious, but instantly decided to keep the warning to himself. If Isabelle knew so much about horses, he shouldn’t have to tell her a thing. This might be a good way to find out if she was the real deal or a woman with money and her head in the clouds.
Five minutes later, Holt had his answer. Blossom had not only forgotten the hay in front of her, she was nosing up to Isabelle as if they’d been friends forever. On top of that, the young mare had always been skittish about her feet, but Blossom had allowed Isabelle to pick up all four like she was a diva waiting for a manicure. It was amazing.
“She has a really nice eye and her teeth look good,” she said as she dropped the mare’s lip back in place.
“Chandler floats their teeth on a regular basis,” he said, his green eyes dropping away from her hands and down to her rounded bottom encased in faded denim. Yesterday he’d been too tired and annoyed to notice Isabelle’s perfect figure. This morning he was having trouble keeping his attention away from it.
She turned to face him and Holt jerked up his gaze before she caught him staring at her cute little butt.
“What sort of sire is this mare bred to?”
“The ranch’s foundation stud. He’s black and big boned. I’ll show him to you after we look at the other mares.”
She smiled and Holt’s attention was drawn to the alluring sight of soft pink lips against white teeth. And suddenly he was wondering how she would look naked and lying next to him with her hair spilled over his shoulder.
“I look forward to seeing him,” she said.
“So what do you think of Blossom?”
“She’s nice. But I need to see the others before I make any kind of decision. Okay?”
Another smile softened her words and Holt felt his resistance crumbling like a shortbread cookie. Any man with half a brain could see she was a heartbreaker. But why should he let that put him off? He never made the mistake of letting a woman get near his heart. He enjoyed them for a while and then moved on. Isabelle was no different than the last beauty to warm his bed.
“Certainly,” he answered. “Let’s go find a truck and we’ll drive out to the horse pasture.”
* * *
Throughout the short trip to the pasture, Isabelle tried to ignore Holt’s presence in the cab of the truck, but the more she tried to dismiss him, the more suffocated she felt. Back at the ranch yard, he’d wrapped a hand around her arm to assist her climb into the tall work truck, and even through the quilted thickness of her coat, the touch of his fingers had left a burning imprint.
But that was hardly a surprise. Everything about the man, from his sauntering walk to the growl in his voice, shouted sex. Or was he really no different than any other man she’d ever met? Could the long months of a cold, empty bed be causing her to see him in a different light?
Whatever the reason for her ridiculous reaction to the man, she needed to get over it and quick. There was no way she could make a smart business transaction when her mind was preoccupied with how he’d look with his shirt off, or wonder how it would feel to have those strong arms wrapped around her.
Damn it! She didn’t need a man. Not now. And definitely not a Romeo in cowboy boots.
“I’ve not been here long enough to learn about your weather,” she said, hoping to push her thoughts to a safer place. “Is it usually this cool in January? I was hoping that this part of the state was southern enough to miss the cold and snow.”
“Other than a few rare flurries blowing in the wind, you won’t see snow around here,” he answered. “But it can get fairly cold. Especially at night. What little rain we do get comes in the winter months. I hope you have plenty of water sources on your ranch. Otherwise, when the dry months come, you’re going to be in trouble.”
Did the man think she’d gotten to Arizona on the back of a turnip truck? Or was he doubting her common sense because she was a woman? Either way, he seemed intent on insulting her intelligence.
But she was trying her best to ignore his remarks, the same way she was trying to dismiss the way his chin jutted slightly forward and the rusty stubble on his face had grown even longer since she’d seen him yesterday morning. Normally she had an aversion to men who didn’t keep their faces clean-shaven. But there was something very earthy and sexy about the way the whiskers outlined his square jaw and firm lips.
She cleared her throat and said, “I made sure about the water supply before I purchased the property. And I’ve had enough firewood hauled in for the fireplace to last through the winter. I have fifty tons of Tifton/ alfalfa in the hay barn and enough grain to last a month. In spite of what you might think of me, I do know how to make preparations.”
He glanced at her and grinned. “I’m glad to hear you’re prepared. And, by the way, how do you know what I’m thinking of you?”
She bit back a groan and decided the best way to deal with this man was to be forthright. Lifting her chin, she said, “It’s fairly obvious you think I’m an idiot. I’m not sure why you’ve put me in that category, but you have. And I’m trying not to let it bother me. After all, I think you’re a bit of an arrogant brute. So there—we’re even.”
Expecting him to be peeved with her, she was totally surprised when he let out a hearty laugh. “An arrogant brute, eh? I’ve been called plenty of things before, but never that one.” He directed another lopsided grin in her direction. “And you have me all wrong, Isabelle. I hardly think you’re an idiot. I merely think you might be biting off more than you can chew.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
He shook his head. “No. Because you’re clearly chasing a dream. Instead of facing the hard work in front of you.”
She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to tell him that a person without dreams wasn’t really living. But she stifled both urges. There had already been too many personal exchanges between the two of them and it was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable. It was making her think of him as a man rather than a neighbor or horse trainer. And that was something that could only lead to trouble.
“I know all about hard work, Mr. Hollister,” she said stiffly.
“Please call me Holt.”
She rolled her eyes in his direction to see the grin on his face was still there. Five minutes with Holt Hollister was really too much for any woman to endure and hold on to her sanity, she decided.
He steered the truck off the beaten dirt track and braked it to a stop near a wide galvanized gate. Beyond the fence, Isabelle could see thirty or more head of horses milling around a cluster of long wooden feed troughs.
“Here we are,” he announced. “And fortunately, the horses are still at their feed. I think there are thirty-five head in this herd.”
Purposely keeping her gaze on the horses, she asked, “How many of these are for sale?”
“Four. I’ll take a halter with me so you can take your time with each one.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
They left the truck and after he collected a halter from the back, they walked over to the fence. While he slipped the latch on the gate, she said, “I thought you were in the business of selling horses. Why the limit of four or five?”
“This past year, we had to take several horses out of the working remuda for different reasons, such as lameness and age and so forth. And then Blake decided to add more cattle to our ranch down at Dragoon, so I’ve had to send more horses for the hands to use down there. Replacing them takes time and lots of training. So I’m actually running a bit short on older horses and somewhat short on the yearlings.”
He followed her into the pasture and as Isabelle watched him carefully fasten the gate behind them, she realized that for once in her life, she was just as interested in looking at a man as she was a herd of horses.
“I see. I was thinking you might just limit the buyers who have their heads in the clouds.”
He chuckled and Isabelle decided an arrogant brute who could laugh at himself couldn’t be all bad.
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I have special deals for those buyers.”
Her laugh was shrewd. “I’ll just bet you do.”
