High-Stakes Colton

“Altogether, we’ve got about two hundred or so depending on sales and such. We’re about to have an auction for the new crop of fully trained horses.”

He looped around and pointed out the next set of identical barns. “Spur and Dallas house mostly training stock. I believe that’s where your mount is, correct?”

“Yes, sir. Name’s Valentine. Blue roan.”

“I have a soft spot for roans. Had me one when I was just a tyke.” He gestured ahead. “Each of the service barns holds forty horses with two wash racks and tack room. The mare barns also have sleeping accommodations when mares are foaling in case Alanna or the vet want to catch some shut-eye.”

“It’s an expansive and impressive operation Miss Colton is running.”

“Yes, she has the staff to help her, but she’s pretty tireless and always on top of things.”

As they passed, Jake noted each of the barns had a paddock adjacent to the structure opening out from the stalls.

Buck pulled the small cart over and parked. He got out and Jake followed. “Time for breakfast. Don’t want to miss Ellen’s cinnamon rolls.”

* * *

“You’re both right on time,” Ellen said, her gaze lingering a little longer on the foreman. “It’s nice to have you back, Buck.”

“Good to be back, Ellen.”

“Any luck?”

“Yep, two new mares.”

“Very good. Have a seat before the masses arrive and all hell breaks loose.” Ellen waved them to chairs. She returned with cutlery, two steaming cups of coffee, a pitcher of cream and a pan of cinnamon buns. She set them down in front of them, then went back for a napkin dispenser and a bowl of sugar from the lazy Susan. “Have at it,” she said with a smile.

They dug in and Ellen had been right. People started to arrive. More than he could learn the names of in the first sitting. But it wasn’t until Alanna walked in that for him, all hell broke loose.

She was cordial to everyone, but reserved. When she met his eyes, she didn’t shy away. He liked her self-possession, but he was a master of body language, partly from being a cop and partly from his ability to work with horses. Alanna Colton didn’t trust easily. Who could blame her? If it wasn’t her controversial and backstabbing family, it was the media trying to get dirt on them. Getting close to her was his job. There was no getting around that. But his ability to professionally detach himself from any situation involving the criminal element seemed to elude him. Didn’t mean she wasn’t guilty.

When Buck rose, Jake went with him, setting down the mug, Ellen quickly picked it up and set it into the sink. Jake donned his hat and tipped it as he left. Alanna didn’t give him much of a response.

Later, on the backside of the barn was where he got his first glimpse of Zorro. Jake climbed the fence and the horse turned his head to look at them. He stiffened into an alert stance, his nostrils flaring as he caught Jake’s scent. He could see why Fowler had bought the stallion and why it would enhance both the cutters and the barrel racers. His lines were excellent with all the makings of a stellar all-around stud.

“Thanks for showing me around. I’ll spend some time getting acquainted.”

Buck nodded. “Good luck, Jake,” Buck said as he jumped down from the fence. He stopped and looked at the stallion, then at Jake. The horse had moved closer to the fence where Jake was perched. Not exactly friendly. Jake simply made eye contact and slowly sank down into himself, holding the animal’s hostile gaze. Some people who watched him called it The Zone, but for Jake it was a thought-free state beyond being present but in touch with presence itself—the natural state of being for horses. How they lived life. In the moment.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Buck’s lips part and his brows rise, but Jake kept all his attention on Zorro. The horse’s ears flicked forward, then went back. He took another step forward. There was a noise from inside the barn and Zorro whirled and trotted to the end of the fence. His message was clear. It was going to take more than a positive attitude to gain this animal’s trust.

Buck said softly, “Well, I’ll be jiggered and left.”

“I’m not paying you good money to stand around and stare at him,” a sardonic voice said from Jake’s left. He turned to meet the cold blue eyes of Fowler Colton, dressed in a pricey Stetson and a charcoal-gray business suit with Western accents across his broad shoulders, his brown hair neat around his ears. The oil baron dabbling in horse-trading. It was an interesting prospect since Fowler had no interest in the stables previously.

“I think I left my fairy wand in my other jeans.”

Fowler’s eyes narrowed. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s to remind you miracles don’t happen overnight. You hired me to do a job. Let me do the job.”

“Not many men stand up to me without consequences, McCord.”

Jake had never been a yes-man. He’d been his own man and stated his opinion. He often worked in a system that ate a man whole and spit him out. He realized he shouldn’t have been so flippant, but Jake recognized something right away. Fowler respected a man who could hold his own and would most likely trust someone who wasn’t a kiss ass. “But you come highly recommended, so you get one pass.”

“It takes time to rehabilitate a horse, Mr. Colton. If you aim to breed him with the best results, you’ll give me the time and patience I need to give you the value of that good money you paid.”

Fowler stepped closer, his wintery eyes assessing Jake and recognition flared. Yeah, that’s right, Jake was an alpha, too. “Is that so, son? I’d say get on with it. I’m not in the business of throwing away money and that stallion was pricey. Make it work.”

“In good time.”

Fowler turned to go, but almost collided with a pimply-faced teenager leading a mare. “Watch where the hell you’re going!” Fowler said, and the teenager quickly apologized.

“What is your name?”

“Mike, sir.”

“Well, Mike, I’ll have you off this spread so fast your head will swim.”

“He deeply apologizes, sir. Don’t you, Mike?”

A tall, good-looking cowboy intervened just before Jake was about to open his mouth and try to smooth it over.

“Yes, sir. Deeply.”

Fowler gave both of them one more glaring look and strode off on his pricey hand-tooled boots.

“Better get Jo back to the barn now, Mike.”

They had a quick conversation about being more careful, even though it was Fowler who wasn’t looking where he was going.

The older guy faced Jake and said, “Hey, there. Saw you at breakfast but didn’t get a chance to say howdy. Dylan Harlow and that’s Mike Jensen. He’s one of Alanna’s troubled teens. Good kid.”

“Jake McCord.”

Dylan took off his hat and ran his hand through his dark hair, then jammed his hat back on. “Whew, still a mite warm for September.”

“Figure it is.”

“You the guy they hired to handle Zorro?”

“I am that man.”

“Boy howdy, you got your work cut out for you and I don’t just mean Zorro. Good luck,” he said as he sauntered off.

Jake nodded, looking in the direction Fowler had taken. Jake was sure the CEO of Colton Incorporated wasn’t done breathing down his neck.

At the end of the day, feeling the effects of the heat, the dirt and the slow start with Zorro, Jake headed for his apartment and the meal he was sure Miss Ellen would be cooking. After the initial meeting with Zorro, Jake found the rest of the afternoon to be frustrating as he tried to get closer to the animal. But it was as if he was off for some reason. He wondered if it could be Alanna. She did knock him for a loop.