The Last Cowboy
Evie Olivia Niven
Chapter 1: Crime and Punishment
Sera crouched behind the tall hedgerow, peering through an almost imperceptible hole in the foliage. She watched as her best friend, Candace, jimmied open the lock on the front door of the two-level ranch-style house. “I must be out of my mind,” she thought, slowly creeping out from behind the bush at Candace’s signal. Her friend had told her that the old man who owned the place was wealthy. She had assured Sera that he didn’t actually live there, but kept a good many valuables inside.
“We only need a few things,” Sera thought, slipping inside the house behind Candace. Just enough to get some money for college. If her parents had still been alive, she wouldn’t be here. The accident that had killed her parents had also killed her beloved horse, Eagle Flight. Everything in her life that she loved had been destroyed in an instant. “I shouldn’t have lived either,” Sera thought, fingering the scars on the side of her face that she kept hidden beneath a wealth of ashy brown hair. “I don’t want to be alive now.”
The inside of the house was so dark that she could barely see anything. Sera almost tripped over the couch in the middle of the living room. The arm of the couch knocked the air out of her, and she huffed, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet house. She froze like a deer in headlights, her heart pounding hard against her ribs.
“Quiet!” Candace hissed from somewhere up ahead.
“Sorry,” Sera murmured back. “I ... I tripped...”
“Shhh!”
She stepped around the couch, holding her hands out in front of her to hopefully keep herself from walking into anything else. Sera could hear Candace moving around, opening and closing drawers and cupboards. How the older girl could see in this house was a mystery. Pausing in what she assumed was the entrance to the kitchen, Sera waited until her eyes adjusted more to the darkness, and she could just barely make out Candace’s silhouette. “I shouldn’t be so doubting,” she thought. “Candace has been by my side since the accident.”
Except that Sera was uncertain if that was enough. Candace liked to be in charge; she cajoled, threatened, bullied, and even blackmailed to get her way. She’d never really been mean to Sera, but she wasn’t often very nice, either. Stop that, Sera thought, shaking her head. She took me in and gave me a place to stay. I should be grateful. But as they stood in the kitchen together, she could hear alarm bells going off in her head.
Those aren’t alarm bells! Sera realized a moment later. Those are sirens! She glanced over at Candace, who was wide-eyed and nervous. This was officially turning into their stupidest idea ever.
“Shit!” Candace growled. “The rich old fart must have alarms that go right to the police station! Let’s get out of here!”
Candace pushed past her and raced out the front door. Sera followed, stretching her legs to keep up. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and the world seemed a dizzying blur. A leap carried her over the hedgerow, but she stumbled, landing hard on her knees in the wet grass. Groaning, Sera forced herself back to her feet and started running again. She was not the fastest runner, and she could hear someone coming up behind her quickly. Putting her head down, she put all her effort into running, but it wasn’t long before a heavy body dragged her to the ground.
Sera had suffered quite a few degrading experiences in her life, but being handcuffed was not one of them--until now. She bit her lip as her hands were jerked roughly behind her back, and cold metal handcuffs slapped around her wrists. Her captor hauled her to her feet and started marching her towards a nearby police car. And here I was convinced that my life couldn’t possibly get any worse, Sera thought, listening with half an ear as the cop rattled off the Miranda warning.
“Let go of me, you donut-scarfing pig!”
It just got worse, Sera thought, wincing at the sound of Candace’s voice. She was shoved rudely into the back of the police car, and the officer turned to deal with her loud-mouthed friend. “We’re not going to wiggle out of it this time,” she thought, sinking down on the seat. Something tells me Mr. Rich isn’t going to let us get away with a little community service. Candace was tossed into the car with her, but Sera paid no attention to her friend’s ranting. She stared out the window, and in her mind’s eye, she could see a strong black horse racing over an open field. That’s where I belong...
“Seraphim Langley and Candace Berkart.”
Sera lifted her head and stared blearily between the bars of their jail cell. Two officers were standing there, unlocking the cell. She dragged herself to her feet and held out her hands, allowing them to cuff her. Candace put up more of a fuss, but in the end, she too was handcuffed. She’d been threatened with other charges, including resisting arrest, and that had taken most of the fight out of her. Sera was glad; they were in enough trouble without her friend calling the police officers pigs and donut-munchers.
Sera was expecting to find a cynical public defense attorney waiting in the small room they were led to; instead, a young, well-dressed lawyer and an old man were sitting at the table. He must be the owner,” she thought, starting to panic. “Oh, well, there goes the rest of my future! Not that I had one to begin with.” Sera stared at the two uncomfortable-looking, straight-backed chairs and wondered if they were expected to sit down.
“Please, sit down,” the young lawyer said. “I’m Barry Kensington, and this is my client, Mr. Ralston. He’s the owner of the house you were trying to burgle.”
“Uh ... I ... I’m sorry, sir,” Sera stammered, stepping on Candace’s foot to keep her quiet. “We know it was wrong. I guess ... we were desperate.”
“Seraphim Langley,” Mr. Ralston responded, smiling gently. “I’ve heard of you, young lady. You won the National Horse Show a few years back, didn’t you? A fine horse, that was.”
Sera swallowed hard and stared at her toes. I thought I’d have faded into obscurity by now, she thought, biting on her lower lip nervously. At the tender age of sixteen, she had ridden Eagle Flight to a first-place ribbon in the National Horse Show, the most difficult competition for jumping horses. It hadn’t been too long after that that the accident occurred. Sera hadn’t ridden any horse at all since then. Even thinking about it brought back the fear of the accident and the sorrow of losing the things that had meant the most to her in life.
“Mr. Ralston has horses of his own,” Kensington explained. “A ranch, in fact, in California.”
“I don’t ride anymore,” Sera said softly. “Certainly not now that I’m going to end up in jail.”
“I’ve heard about that, also,” Mr. Ralston told her. “A horrible accident ... a real tragedy. I imagine life has been hard for you since then.” He paused a moment, still smiling that kind of smile. “Please, ladies, sit down.”
Still feeling uncertain, Sera settled herself in one of those chairs. After a moment, Candace sat beside her. Mr. Kensington picked up a manila folder that was sitting on the small table in the middle of the room and opened it, rifling through it. He handed it to Mr. Ralston, who closed it and set it back on the table.
“You girls have gotten into quite a bit of trouble lately,” he said, resting his gnarled hands on the folder. “Lots of shoplifting, especially. Would you care to explain this to me?”
No, Sera thought. Out loud she said, “We ... we don’t have a lot of money. My parents are ... gone. You know that. And Candace’s kicked her out when she was sixteen.”
“Such a shame,” Mr. Ralston said, shaking his head. “Truly, two young ladies such as yourself should not be reduced to this.”
“Which is why,” Mr. Kensington put in, “Mr. Ralston has decided to be lenient with you two. Rather than serving jail time, you two will spend six months on Mr. Ralston’s ranch, working as stable hands.”
As Candace threw a fit of outrage, Sera stayed quiet, feeling as though her whole world was falling apart. “I can’t do this,” she thought frantically. “The memories... I can’t! But there didn’t seem to be a lot of choice. Neither she nor Candace had money for bail, or any friends who did. And once Candace calmed down, she would no doubt decide to take the offer. Sera was deep in thought, and didn’t notice Mr. Ralston approaching her until he had brushed her hair away from her cheek. She jumped back, horrified, quickly covering up her scars.
“You need this,” Mr. Ralston said. “You have not let yourself heal. The final decision is yours, of course, but I hope you will choose correctly.”
Mr. Ralston limped from the room, leaning heavily on his cane. Sera watched him go, listening with half an ear to the conversation between Kensington and Candace. She knew what Candace would choose; as much as she hated work, she’d rather go to a ranch than stay in jail. “I don’t really have a choice,” Sera thought, rubbing her temples. Staying in that cell much longer will drive me nuts. I have to go. It was the choice she didn’t want to make, and she could already feel the memories trying to come rushing back.
Brookside Ranch was truly a lovely place. Sera couldn’t deny that. It was rangy and rustic; the fences looked worn and homey, rather than the whitewash she was used to. The barn had a shabby charm, and there was indeed a brook. She could hear it babbling even though she couldn’t yet see it. Small, squat cottages and a ranch house looked quaint and comfortable. The grass was starting to brown with drought, but it was still mostly green. Even though it had little resemblance to her former home, it was still painful to look at. Inhaling, Sera could smell horse and grass, scents that brought back so much.
Candace chatted brightly with the man who’d picked them up at the airport. He was Mr. Ralston’s grandson, and rather handsome, with short brown hair, blue eyes, and a cute, dimpled smile. Something about him bothered her, Sera thought, eyeing the young man. She couldn’t put her finger on it, though. She trailed along behind them, bouncing her tattered old duffle bag against her hip. Maybe it was just her. The only person she trusted at all anymore was Candace.
“So, I’m Cole, and you’re Candace,” the young man said. “But who’s your friend? She hasn’t given me a name.”
“That’s Sera,” Candace said, shrugging her shoulders. “She’s quiet like a mouse. Don’t mind her.”
And he didn’t, either. Cole showed them to the cottage they would be staying in long enough for them to put down their bags, then let them down towards the barn. This is a guest ranch, Sera realized, when she noticed people wandering around who obviously weren’t ranch hands. Just lovely. If this had been simply a private ranch, where she wouldn’t have had to deal with too many other people, she wouldn’t have minded quite so much. I’m going to have to help people, Sera thought, wrinkling her nose. Rich, well-dressed people who will pause when I’m around and stare.
Cole told them he would give them a tour, although personally Sera didn’t think the place would be all that hard to navigate. She followed Cole and Candace up to the fence of the first paddock and stopped, barely able to breathe.
“This here is part of our main attraction,” Cole said. He rolled his eyes. “The other half walks on two legs and has just as much attitude. That’s a Mustang stallion, wild as could be, can barely be ridden. Don’t know why my grandfather keeps him. Waste of space, but the guests think he’s great.”
Although Eagle Flight had been a gelding, he had also been a Mustang. Small, rangy, a black so pure and deep that it seemed impossible. Standing in the paddock, cropping at the short grass, was a Mustang the color of a night with neither stars nor moon. The resemblance was uncanny. Sera gripped the fence tightly as the Mustang lifted his head and turned it, seeming to look directly at her. The stallion reared, bugling loudly, his sharp hooves slashing at the air; then he raced away across the paddock. It’s impossible, Sera thought, feeling her heart pound against her ribs. But he looks exactly like Eagle!
Asher paused in the doorway of the barn, staring curiously at the newcomers. Cole had mentioned something about picking up new hands; these must have been the girls who’d been caught trespassing. The blonde, who stood close to Cole, tossing her head and flirting outrageously, looked like the type to steal from other people. The other, a short, undersized young woman with the rangy, underfed look of a wild Mustang, and plain brown hair that trailed down her back and covered half her face, did not. Watching her face, Asher couldn’t imagine any maliciousness and selfishness there.
He followed her gaze and smiled, watching the black Mustang rear. Show off, he thought, shaking his head. Asher turned his gaze back to her, taking in the mixture of wonder and horror on her face. He stepped from the doorway and into the tack room, where an updated list of ranch hands could be found. The names Candace Berkart and Seraphim Langley had been added on. I wonder which one she is, Asher thought. Seraphim Langley ... why does that sound familiar?
“Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”
Asher jumped and spun around. Mr. Ralston was behind him, smiling at him, his pale blue eyes crinkled in gentle amusement. How does a man with a cane and a limp sneak up like that? Asher wondered. Somehow Mr. Ralston managed to sneak up on him about once a day. Usually, he was at least prepared for it, but ... well, so he’d been distracted, so what? Curiosity killed the cat, he thought.
“She used to ride,” Mr. Ralston went on. “Took the world by storm, winning the National Horse Show at age sixteen, on a Mustang that barely reached fifteen hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as that.”
I remember that! Asher thought. He’d been there with Mr. Ralston, watching. It hadn’t been the first time he’d seen her, either. Seraphim was an amazing rider, and her horse had been just as fantastic. He remembered his amazement, watching the two of them clear fences the little Mustang never should have been able to take. She had gentle hands, Asher remembered, smiling to himself. It looked as though she barely touched the reins. She’d ridden like a queen, he’d thought.
“What is she doing here?” Asher asked, turning his attention back to Mr. Ralston.
“Punishment, technically,” Mr. Ralston answered, chuckling. “But she needs to be here. About ... oh, three years ago, now ... she and her family were involved in an accident. Both of her parents were killed, and her horse ... snapped a cannon bone so badly, he had to be put to sleep.”
“That’s horrible,” Asher murmured. He hadn’t seen her again after that time, but he’d thought perhaps she just couldn’t handle the pressure.
Mr. Ralston nodded. “She has a lot of scars, inside and out. She hasn’t ridden since the accident. My guess is, she no longer has a will to live. She goes through each day, but she doesn’t really want to.”
“Why does she look at him like that?” Asher asked. He knew that Mr. Ralston would know what he was talking about.
Indeed, the old man smiled knowingly. He limped up to the window on the paddock side of the tack room, and Asher followed. Like these two new girls, he had come here for a second chance. At seventeen, he’d been involved in car theft. Neither of his parents were around; he had no idea where he was. Then Mr. Ralston had shown up out of nowhere and became his legal guardian, taking him to live at this ranch. Back then, Asher had been a rising star on the show jumping circuit; now he rode only for his own pleasure. Following Mr. Ralston’s gaze to the girl called Seraphim, he felt a pang of sorrow for her.
Mr. Ralston seemed more like a psychiatrist than a businessman, sometimes. Watching Seraphim, Asher had a feeling that the old man was right.
“You see, boy,” Mr. Ralston explained. “That girl didn’t ride just any Mustang. She rode a solid black named Eagle Flight.”
Asher’s breath halted in his throat. He knew all about Eagle Flight; the horse had once lived on this very ranch. Unfortunately, he was so wild and uncontrollable that it was decided he would be gelded and sold, a decision Mr. Ralston had never been happy with. However, before he’d been gelded, he’d been bred to one select mare and had one very healthy offspring. Seven years ago, a small, solid black Mustang foal had been born. Running wildly across the paddock was that foal, now completely grown. Midnight Eagle.
Chapter 2: Adjusting
Sera tossed a final heavy bale of hay down from the loft, then flopped down onto a pile of scratchy straw on the floor. She was sweaty and dirty, and completely out of breath. I didn’t think I was so out of shape, she thought, wiping sweat from the back of her neck. It wasn’t that she’d put on weight; if anything, she was thinner than she used to be. But over the last few days, Sera had found that chores she used to perform with ease had become difficult and tiring. Worse, Candace’s charismatic personality had landed her a cushy place serving food, leading introductory tours, and helping with some of the less strenuous activities.
Noisy chatter caught her attention. Sera forced herself out of the pile of straw and staggered to the window. Lined up along the fence was a group of girls, ranging from twelve to forty-something. They were watching a young man demonstrate how to brush and saddle a horse. Sera easily recognized the slender, willowy form, longish, shaggy dark hair, and soft, near-whispering voice of Asher James. Why does that name sound so familiar? she wondered, scowling. No matter. Between Asher and Cole bossing her around, she was ready to scream.
She climbed down the ladder and began hauling the last bale of hay into the tack room, where she stacked it atop the others. Sera dusted herself off and headed out of the barn, into the stifling humidity of mid-afternoon. She had no desire to get in between the girls and their eye candy, so she hurried past them. He isn’t that good-looking, she thought, hesitating just a moment too long.
“Sera!”
She stopped, cringing. Asher’s voice, though soft, cut right through the warm, thick air. Sera turned, noticing the disdainful look of the girls gathered by the fence. All of them were dressed in stylish, high-priced riding clothes. She was wearing a pair of battered jeans that were too big, an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off that she’d once used while helping repaint the fences in her old home, and a pair of work boots that were on their last leg. Sera’s hair was down as always, covering the scars on her left cheek; her only consolation was that the sun put streaks of honey into the ashy brown strands.
“Take Buster in, untack him, feed him, and brush him,” Asher told her. “Then I need you to put some liniment on Marigold’s cut. I don’t want her getting an infection.”
Sera nodded stiffly and climbed over the fence to take Buster’s reins from Asher. Her annoyance was partly tempered by both the fact that he was almost always busy and the fact that he really did care for the horses. He’s a fantastic rider, too, she thought as she unlatched the gate. I can’t imagine what he’s doing here, instead of on the show circuit. He reminds me of that guy so many years ago ... Sera paused, whipping around to face the crowd again.
“You aren’t that Asher James, are you?” she asked loudly. “The one who won at the National Horse Show twice in a row, and almost won a gold medal in the Olympics?”
“No,” Asher answered shortly, turning his back to her. “Get to work.”
Startled, she quickly led Buster into the shade of the barn. Years ago, she had watched a young Asher James ride to a silver medal in the equestrian division of the Olympics. He’d been just seventeen, and Sera had been so impressed, she’d begged her parents for her own horse, so she could be in the Olympics someday. Not long after, she had found Eagle Flight, and they had quickly become an unbeatable team. Unfortunately, Asher James had disappeared from the limelight by then.
“It couldn’t be him, right, Buster?” Sera murmured as she curried dust from the horse’s soft hide. “It just couldn’t...”
Once upon a time, she’d thought about what it might be like to meet someone like him. Obviously, he would be one of the nicest people she’d ever met. This Asher was... well, he wasn’t mean, but he was always short with her and bossy. He seemed like he liked people about as much as I do, Sera thought, pausing to wipe sweat from her face. Which is to say, not at all. So why was he working here, then? And what had happened to him, anyway? After that time, she’d never seen him again.
No, she reminded herself, you didn’t see Asher James, Olympic silver medalist, again. There was no reason to believe that this was the same guy. His hair was too long, for one. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that hair grows, but she ignored it. It’s just a stupid fancy, that’s all, Sera decided. Nothing to be impressed about. As if to emphasize that thought, Asher’s voice rang down the stable aisle, shouting for her to get back to work.
Sera leaned against the side of the barn. It was almost time for the guest dinner, and not long after that, the employee dinner. Employee and probation dinner, she thought grumpily. She was absolutely a mess; sweaty and sticky, her clothes clinging to her body, her hair a mass of tangles. It had been increasingly hard for Sera to stay clean. The employees shared two shower rooms (male and female), and there was no privacy. She had to go late at night to avoid anyone who would see her scars. Maybe it was stupid, but could she help it if she was uncomfortable about those hideous things?
“Slacking off?”
She opened her eyes and glared at Asher. At least he was as sweaty and dirty as she was. But he looked good that way, Sera thought, cursing him! She hadn’t wanted to think of him as good-looking, but he was. Just at the moment he had his cowboy hat pulled low, as it often was. She could see his hair sticking out from beneath it, just barely touching his shoulders. He made a very good cowboy, Sera thought, feeling her cheeks heat. She pulled herself off the wall and started to walk away, but Asher grabbed her elbow.
“Come with me,” he said. “I think I’ve got something that will help you.”
“I’m off duty!” Sera snapped, glowering. “Can’t I have even a little time to myself?”
“No,” Asher answered.
She gaped at him in disbelief. Asher didn’t let go of her; rather, he continued to pull her along. He led her back into the barn, tugging her down the aisle to the main office. Asher’s hand on her arm was gentle, she thought. He had strong fingers, and his skin was slightly rough with calluses. She was going to pull away from him, but he released her as soon as they reached the office. Curious in spite of herself, Sera followed him inside, eyeing him warily as he shut the door.
“You need to start taking a shower more often,” Asher told her. “Some of the guests have complained.”
“They have not!” Sera snapped. She paused and looked up at him. “Have they?”
“They have,” Asher assured her. “Granted, they’ll complain about anything and everything, some of them. But it did bring something to my attention.”
Sera watched him as he moved over to a large board covered in pegs and keys at the far end of the office. She bit her lip as he pulled a key off the peg labeled “bath house”. There were several extra keys for each thing, and usually only those higher up on the staff hierarchy were allowed to have her own. Sera stared at him as he pressed the key into her hand and closed her fingers around it.
“Why?” she asked. “I ... I mean ... you don’t have to...”
“Just take it,” Asher said quietly. “And don’t take your shower too late. I need you to be in the stables bright and early tomorrow.”
She might have been annoyed if she weren’t feeling so uncertain. Fidgeting and chewing at her lower lip, Sera fiddled with her hair. I really should thank him, she thought. He didn’t have to... But Asher felt sorry for her, and she hated that. That was the whole reason she was here: Mr. Ralston had felt sorry for her. Well, and I tried to burgle his home, she thought wryly. But still, he could have just pressed charges and had me sent to jail.
“Are those from the accident?” Asher asked.
Startled, she held her hand up to her cheek. Sera hadn’t realized that she’d pushed her hair away from her voice, leaving her scars exposed. They were the worst on her face, angry red marks that reminded her of something from a horror film. Down her neck, side, and leg, they weren’t nearly as bad, mostly scattered ridges. The look on Asher’s face was one of pity, and it made her angry. He tried to touch her face, but Sera jerked away, letting her hair swing back into place over her cheek.
“I don’t need or want your pity,” she growled.
Asher smiled. “Of course you don’t. You never did. Even when you couldn’t compete in the National Horse Show that first year because your mount came up lame, you never complained.”
“How do you know that?” Sera demanded, staring at him.
“Mr. Ralston dragged me along both years you qualified,” Asher explained. “Trying to get me to stop feeling sorry for myself. I watched you. You and that horse. He put his head in your arms like a lost child and stood perfectly still while the vet checked and wrapped his leg. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He was standing so close that she could feel the heat of his body. Back then, she’d noticed the boy watching her, but he’d been half hidden in shadows. Sera had thought he looked lonely; she was going to go over to him when she was done with Eagle, but he’d been gone by then. So it was him, she thought. The small office was suddenly getting really warm, and she imagined her face was bright red. He saw me with my Eagle...
Thinking about Eagle brought tears to her eyes. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about it at all. The last thing she wanted now was for Asher to see her cry. Clutching the key, Sera turned and fled from the office. God, he probably thinks I’m so lame, she thought. And ugly, too. But at least she’d be able to use the shower when it was convenient for her. She would really have to thank him for that.
Asher sighed and dropped down into the chair behind the desk. Well, that didn’t go well, he thought, pushing his hat back from his face. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that time. Of course, memories of her horse would be painful for Sera. He’d just wanted to have a civil conversation with her, something he’d really been struggling with since she’d arrived.
Asher had just turned eighteen when he went to that particular horse show. An adult, according to the law. Back then, there had been two things he’d wanted. Midnight Eagle had been one of them, and Mr. Ralston had made a deal with him, so that eventually the horse belonged to Asher. But Mr. Ralston couldn’t give him the other thing he wanted, and he couldn’t take it for himself. At eighteen years old, it wasn’t highly looked upon to lust after a fourteen-year-old girl.
He’d been so amazed by her; her gentle hands, her soft voice, her bright eyes. Asher had watched her longingly that weekend, always from a distance. Although he knew she’d noticed him at least once, he never gave her the chance to actually talk to him. She was too young for him then. And how ironic is it, Asher thought, that she’s here now. But so different from who she used to be.
Well, perhaps not that different. Her hands were still gentle and her voice was still soft, if only around the horses. But the light had gone out of her eyes. No doubt it was difficult living with those scars; people always reacted badly when they saw someone with scars like that. Asher didn’t care; he’d never been attracted to her looks. He rose from the chair, running his fingers back through his hair. Really, he should shower and get down to dinner himself, before Mr. Ralston realized he was missing. Asher was still working off his payment for Eagle, after all.
The heat of the sun was almost unbearable. Asher rested beneath the awning over the porch in front of the main building, staring morosely out at the barn. In fifteen minutes he had another class and he was not looking forward to it. Teenage girls and older women flocked around him whenever and wherever he went. They flirted with him shamelessly, bickered with each other nastily, and generally got on his nerves. Asher found himself wishing he’d be up in the loft with Sera, tossing down bales of hay. He’d much rather do that, even if she wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world, either.
“Slacking off?”
Asher turned slightly and raised an eyebrow at Sera. She wore a pair of short shorts, a tank top, beat-up boots, and a sarcastic grin. As usual, her hair was draped over her cheek, hiding the scars. Hmm, he thought, looking her up and down. This gives me an idea. Turning to face her fully, he pulled off his cowboy hat and planted it on her head. It was a bit big on her and tilted down over her eyes. That’s cute, Asher thought, grinning. If only she would act as cute as she looks right now.
“Change of plans today,” Asher told her. “You’re going to be my assistant for my next class.”
Sera pushed the hat up and glared at him. “Who made you boss?”
“Come on,” Asher said, placing his hand gently on her back and urging her forward. “I need someone with me to keep my temper in check.”
“What for?” Sera demanded. “You’re surrounded by females all day. You should be psyched.”
“Great,” Asher griped. “Noisy, nosy, chattering females. Yeah, I’m thrilled.”
He started down towards the barn, allowing her to catch up at her own pace. No doubt she was wondering what to make of what he said. Well, she’ll figure it out eventually, Asher thought. She needs to stop being so cranky and try to enjoy herself. Footsteps behind him warned him that she was closing on him. She had to walk twice as fast as normal to keep up with his long stride, but she did it. He’d noticed that she really didn’t like it when he outdid her in ... well, pretty much anything.
“If you hate this so much, why do you do it?” Sera asked.
“Paying off my debt,” Asher explained, already wishing he had his hat back. The sun was far too bright.
Sera raised an eyebrow at him. “Debt?”
“Mr. Ralston had a horse I wanted,” Asher told her. “I work to finish paying for him.”
“Which horse?” Sera wanted to know.
“That one,” Asher said, lifting his hand and pointing.
He waited for Sera to follow his gaze to the horse he was speaking of. Asher knew the moment she realized, because she gasped loudly. In the bright sunlight, Midnight Eagle was even more glorious than ever. He raced from one side of the paddock to the other, working off restless energy. Sera’s steps quickened as they got closer to the paddock. She walked right past the group of females waiting for Asher to arrive and stepped up on the fence to gaze out at Eagle. A gust of warm wind blew the hat back and it hung around her shoulders, allowing the wind to ruffle her hair.
“All right, girls,” Asher said. “Today I’m going to demonstrate barrel racing. Sera, will you bring out the barrels for me and saddle Buster?”
Sera nodded and jumped reluctantly down from the fence. As she headed into the tack room, Asher turned to his audience. The youngest today, a sixteen-year-old blonde named Leann, batted her eyelashes at him and he fought to keep from rolling his eyes. Mrs. Caroll, a middle-aged woman whose rich husband never paid attention to her antics, leaned close to him, pressing her chest against his arm. You’d think they never saw a guy before, Asher thought, feeling annoyed. Why the hell do women find me so compelling, anyway? He didn’t talk much and he always smelled like horse.
“Hey, boss!” Sera called. “Buster’s limping!”
“Shi ... shoot!” Asher swore. “Um ... is Raindown out or in?”
“He’s out,” Sera sai