Page 35 of Take Me Home

I shake my head.

Hattie jumps down from the tractor with a wide grin on her pretty face like she’s sixteen and just passed the test for her driver’s license. Just as she’s about to walk past us, she tosses me the tractor keys, then keeps walking.

“Why’d you give me these?” I call after her.

She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. “Sorry, thought you were the valet.” Then she keeps walking until she reaches Barbara.

I turn to see Otto and Hank covering their mouths and whispering to each other like schoolboys.

“You think that’s funny? That spoiled princess belongs to you.” I point a finger in Hattie’s direction.

Hank shrugs. “I don’t think that girl belongs to anyone. Pretty sure she can handle herself just fine.” He tips his head in my direction, then strides toward his daughter.

Otto comes to stand beside me. He looks me in the eye like he’s searching for something.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothin’,” he says. “I just haven’t seen you this riled up in a long time.”

“I’m not riled up,” I say through gritted teeth.

Otto chuckles and leaves me standing in the middle of the paddock, holding the tractor keys.

CHAPTER 13

Hattie

After choring with three men all day, I’m exhausted. My feet ache. I have dirt on my face and hay in my hair. I’m sore everywhere; my arms, my legs, my abdominals. Hell, no wonder they’re all in such good shape. Even Otto is trim and healthy in his old age.

I was ready to rest and take a hot bubble bath at around two this afternoon, but pride kept me going. There’s no way I was going to complain in front of Lincoln. I’m not giving him anymore fuel for his judgment.

We barely even stopped for lunch. In between washing and brushing a few of the mares, and cleaning their stalls, Otto left to make sandwiches and brought them back for us.

It’s nearly six now, and the sun is just beginning to set behind the rough mountain backdrop of the ranch. We’re finally heading to our last stop of the day…the stallion barn.

Apparently, this is Rocky’s day for a stall stripping and a bath. Rocky is a handsome boy, and he knows it. He holds his head high and proud, his black mane floating in the wind. The stallion has a shiny, seal-brown body, with dark hooves, and a black mane and tail. I swear he makes direct eye contact with me in challenge. It’s a how dare you enter my presence kind of look. He’s regal as a king. Rocky knows he’s here to breed but doesn’t have a mare in his enclosure to romp with.

The guys are standing behind me as we reach the door to the stallion barn. I look back to see what they’re doing, and Hank gestures for me to greet Rocky at the fence.

Lincoln crosses his arms, looking smug.

Otto smiles encouragingly. It’s nice to have a grandfather. I see now what all the hype is about. An ache of longing hits me as I stare at Otto a little too long. I missed out by not knowing him until now. Otto could’ve been another supportive face in the crowd during my school programs and jumping competitions. He would’ve taken me for ice cream on bad days, hugged me on my birthday each year…I just know he would’ve been amazing.

It’s a strange thing to miss what you never had. Blinking, I push the sour thoughts away, focusing on the positive. I get to be part of Hank and Otto’s lives now. I can’t dwell on the time I missed.

With a deep breath, I turn toward Rocky again. His nostrils flare and he snorts out a haughty breath. But that’s okay, because I have a secret weapon. Otto brought apples out with lunch, and I saved mine just for this occasion. I bring the shiny red fruit out of my coveralls’ pocket, and his eyes flash with recognition.

“Hey, handsome,” I greet him. “You’re such a good boy, and good boys get treats.”

He whinnies and trots closer to the fence, raising his head over the top and then lowering it so we’re at eye level. I extend my hand with the apple, allowing him to sniff as I slowly bring my other hand up to his mane. He opens his mouth for the fruit, and I let go as he bites into it.

While he’s distracted, I run my hand down his shiny mane.

“Isn’t that tasty?” I ask him as he chews sloppily, juice from the apple dripping to the ground.

When he’s done eating, he keeps his head down so I can keep petting him.

“These guys back here made you sound difficult, Rocky.” I tsk, sending them a narrow-eyed glance. “But they just don’t understand you, do they?”