I warmed him up at the walk, and when I tried him on a trot, he lifted his legs higher than I liked. My brows furrowed, and I took out my phone, took a short video of his stride along with some photographs, and slowed him to a walk. I sent the pictures to Branst before giving him a call.
He answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Pat? Something wrong?”
“I just sent some pictures to your phone. Did you get them?”
“Sec.” A few moments later, the stablemaster grunted. “My eyes must be deceiving me. Why is there a big, black horse on a lunge in my arena?”
“He came out for a grooming, had his stall cleaned, and I thought he could use some exercise. He walks and trots on command, but his trot’s funny.”
“He’s been sored, and if I find out who did it, I might kill them myself. No fucking wonder he’s been a mess.”
“Sored?”
“That exaggerated trot isn’t natural. While a horse empath can teach a horse to have a high step like that, soring is done to force a horse to do it. Some horses are bred to do that, but that black isn’t one of those breeds.”
“But what is it?”
“The answer’s going to make you angry, and you don’t need to be angry while you’ve got that black out of his stall and working with you. It’s abuse, pure and simple, and no good owner does that to an animal to make his trot prettier. His walk’s normal?”
Now that I looked at him, the black did seem to lift his hooves more than I expected. “Not compared to the other horses I’ve seen here. He’s lifting his hooves higher, but not as much as when he’s trotting.”
“Soring.” Branst spewed curses, and I flinched at each one. “Okay. You exercise that stallion as long as he’ll let you and get him back into his stall. I’ll make some calls and see if I can find out who ruined that horse. That picture’s all I need to give him a solid case. He’s a man-made demon, and with good reason. Any horse with half a brain is going to get mean when put through that. I’ll also call Dr. Winstil for a consultation. There might be lasting damage. We didn’t have a lot of time to work his hooves, and we didn’t think to check for that.”
“His hooves seemed okay when I looked them over. No swelling, and the frog looked normal.”
“Now that we know he’s high stepping like that, we can look for the other signs. Since he’s a black, some of the obvious signs won’t be easy to spot. We can reverse the damage, and if I can find the asshole who did that to that horse, they’ll be paying the bill, and I’ll make it as expensive as possible. And with how nobody could get near him, it’s no wonder we missed it.”
“But the signs of abuse were there,” I replied, careful to keep my tone calm. “Is it safe to trot him with him lifting his legs like that?”
“You’re not going to do any more harm than what’s already been done, and he could use the exercise. When his coat lathers, groom him, get a blanket on him if he’ll allow it, and get him back in his stall. Otherwise, towel dry him the best you can if he’ll deal with it.”
“He likes attention.”
“Good. That’ll make it easier on him. If he’ll let you, check his hooves and take pictures.”
“Okay. How long should I work him?”
“Start with half an hour tonight unless he lathers earlier. We’ll evaluate from there. Good work, Pat. I’ll send along that picture you showed me, and I’ll bar him from being ridden until we have a chance to check his legs and hooves for permanent damage.”
“But what about the auction?”
“You let me worry about that, Pat. I’ve got all the ammunition I need to give him a good case. Just work on getting him settled and make yourself available to handle his stall cleaning and grooming, as I have a feeling he won’t trust anyone who looks like they’re a regular worker at the stable.”
“Because of this soring?”
“Exactly. Try to relax, and ease up on your schedule a bit. You’re looking tired.”
“I’m going to have to figure out how to get a break off work so I can take care of him when no one’s around. I don’t think he’ll handle other people very well right now.”
“I’ll talk to Mr. Hemmington about your schedule and see if you can fit in a run down to the stable in the middle of the night. I reckon you’re right. All right. Give that stallion your full attention. You don’t want an animal that big surprising you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Branst hung up, and I did as told, urging the horse to resume a trot.
He lifted his legs high, and at a loss of how to tell the horse he didn’t have to, I praised him.
Chapter Seventeen
One night’s work transformed the devil horse on a mission to murder humanity to a very picky angel of an animal. As long as I handled his lead, as long as I was the one who touched him, and as long as others stayed out of easy reach, the stallion cooperated. Had I not seen his terror and general tendency to go after people when cornered, I wouldn’t have believed him to be the same horse.
Branst wanted me to ease my schedule, but between my need to learn as much about Jessica’s life as possible and my desire to give the stallion a fighting chance, I barely had time to breathe. Unwilling to fail at either task, especially with only two weeks left on the black’s clock until the auction rolled around, I adjusted my schedule. Five hours of sleep a night left me tired but functional, coffee kept me going until I could get home, take a shower, and pass out, and to make sure I didn’t forget anything, I used my phone as a lifeline, taking notes on everything I needed to do down else I’d forget.
Once I knew for certain the horse would dodge a trip to the meat market, I could ease back. It was only two weeks.
I could last that long.
The two weeks went by in a blur, and when the Friday before the auction rolled around, I went to work bracing for a difficult—and long—Saturday. Without me, they wouldn’t be able to get the stallion loaded into the trailer or out of it, which meant I had to attend the auction out of necessity.
When running on only five hours of sleep, even the thought of staying up after my regular bedtime was enough to tire me out. I hoped I’d be able to find a quiet spot at the ranch hosting the auction to catch a nap. If anyone expected me to cook, I’d be sunk.
To make matters worse, I wouldn’t know if the horse would be auctioned until the last minute, and I’d spent a long time working on my budget to see if I could afford to buy him despite his medical costs to correct the soring damage to his legs and rehabilitate him. I put on blinders whenever Branst or anyone else listed the challenges owning the devil himself would create. I already had a filly with special needs, although each day she looked more and more like she’d emerge from her rough start to life fully unscathed. Within a month, I’d have to replace her thin, light-weight saddle with something a little bigger and heavier to help build her strength.
She loved her hackamore so much she got mad if someone took it away even to give it a good cleaning. I’d solved that problem buying a second one for her, and I rotated through them so she’d stay happy. Like the black, she’d developed a habit of kicking her stall when upset over something.
I arrived at work to a suspiciously quiet office, and my initial survey of the place indicated someone, possibly aliens, had invaded my workplace and replaced the elites with oddly tidy and considerate individuals. The aliens had even done a halfway decent job of vacuuming the floors and loading the dishwasher. The dishwasher needed minimal adjustment to run, and I’d pretend the corners had gotten their usual attention despite having a little more dust and dirt than the rest.
As a clean executive floor fit firmly into the ‘too good to be true’ category, I did a complete check of the offices, starting with the Darmill brothers. The marketing Darmill had, like everyone else, cleaned up after himself for a change. More likely, he’d recruited someone else to help him, as I doubted any of the Darmills could realistically operate a trash can without a great deal of assistance. The management Darm
ill had taken after his marketing sibling, and I opted to pretend there weren’t a few stray pieces of paper lurking under his desk.
That left the Tech Menace, and I braced for the worst. Of the brothers, the Tech Menace could completely trash his office if left alone for a single hour. For all I knew, everyone on the executive floor had used his office as a dumping ground. The Tech Menace wouldn’t notice.
He thrived in clutter, junk, and anarchy. He likely found clutter tucked away at home and brought it in solely to make me clean it up.
I cracked open his door.
A fortune of LEGOs took up every inch of space on the floor, formed mountainous piles, and presented a safety hazard for anyone foolish enough to walk into the room unprepared. Some boxes were unopened, some sets were partially assembled, and it appeared like the Tech Menace had tried to keep each set separate from its neighbors. Instruction manuals littered the floor, and according to the nearest empty box, he had a dragon.
The first rule of the night shift came to mind: anything left on the floor after hours became part of my domain. While I made every effort to avoid throwing out something important, I either tossed out what was on the floor or stashed it in my office for safe keeping, expecting the owner to come to me to retrieve their lost property. If I thought the item was of particular importance, I’d leave them a note on their desk informing them it was in my office and to ask Elana to fetch their property. Otherwise, they needed to wait until I was back in the office the next evening.
Elana liked making them wait.
If the Tech Menace wanted his LEGO collection back, he’d have to come to my office. I might even tell Elana he would have to come beg to get his sets back.
Thanks to the work of the benevolent aliens, I’d only need to clean for an hour before I could either indulge in a nap or play with the Tech Menace’s LEGOs. As a child, I’d only had the one LEGO castle set. I spotted the same yellow castle waiting in an opened box.
I could compromise. I could play with the Tech Menace’s LEGOs for a while before I sneaked in a nap in my office. He wouldn’t even notice I’d gotten into his LEGO collection until Monday morning. Saturday would still be exhausting, but I’d get through it.
For a little while, I’d forget about the problems of the present and just enjoy life.
As I had when a child, I assembled LEGO sets on the floor, and I discovered the Tech Menace had two dragon sets to go with the old castle. Meeting Jessica had changed my perspective on the nature of princesses; instead of the knights saving the princess from the dragons, the princess saved the dragons from the knights.
The nature of the dragons and the knights engaged me almost as much as my enjoyment of creating something from scattered pieces. The dragons took me almost two hours to put together each, both consisting of over a thousand pieces.
It felt like it should’ve taken me much longer.
I built the castle last, and when I finished, I rolled one of the horses between my hands.
The princess would’ve been wise to steal the horses and make her escape with the dragons. I laughed at the folly of my thoughts.
I wouldn’t make a good dragon, knight, or king.
I couldn’t be a dragon, I didn’t want to be a knight, and I was at a shockingly high risk of needing to become something someone might call a king. While I wasn’t really certain if genetics or special talents made someone capable of ruling an entire kingdom, I couldn’t see what I could offer Jessica.
Well, I could think of one thing. I could love her.
The unsettled feeling haunting me stirred at the thought. Admitting the truth made things both better and worse.
I already loved her.
There was no other explanation for the changes I’d made in my life. I loved Morning Glory, too. I even loved that bastard of a black stallion who kept turning my life upside down. Everything I did was for them in one way or another.
My phone bore all the evidence anyone needed to discover the truth. Texas straddled a line on the world stage, one I didn’t like—one Jessica didn’t like, either, if I believed half of what she said when ranting about the injustices inherent in our society. Her prized birth control bill and effort to improve women’s health slowly gained traction with the politicians. More importantly, it gained traction with the people.
Some protested the requirement for men to undergo the same standards as women, but I thought her bill would pass intact. Her efforts would change lives—even mine.
I reevaluated the dragons, the princess, and the knights and their horses.
No matter how I considered it, the dragons suited Jessica best. Shaking my head, I picked up the first dragon to carry it to the Tech Menace’s office and position it over his keyboard with a ransom note for the rest of his LEGOs. When I turned to leave my office, I almost ran into Elana, who gaped.
“What on Earth?”
I tripped over my own feet and hit the floor hard, yelping and scrambling to keep from breaking the dragon. Somehow, it emerged from my fall intact. “Elana?”
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”
“Only my pride and dignity have been damaged,” I assured her, getting to my feet. “What are you doing here?”
According to the clock, it was a little after three in the morning. I almost laughed over how much time I’d lost to the damned toys littering my office.
“You’ve been requested.”
Shit. “At three in the morning?”
“They want your barbecue for lunch at the auction. I’m so sorry. I tried to tell them you were going to be bidding on a horse possibly. I know you’re invested in that black. But they insisted.”
“They?”
Elana grimaced. “His Royal Majesty is the main one, but Her Royal Majesty supported him on it. They were interested in your auction bid, too. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell them, but they asked. They promised you wouldn’t miss your bid on the horse even if they had to bid on him on your behalf—or cancel his auction.”
“Canceling his auction is the ideal situation, although I’ll buy him if the chance arises.”
She bowed her head, her shoulders slumping. “I know. I told them you were Texan proud and had been working hard to save that horse. They called in Branst to talk about the situation.”
The last thing I wanted was Royal attention on the black, not when he couldn’t handle anyone else working with him yet. “That sounds bad.”
“They’re angry.”
Ah. “Please tell me they’re angry about how that horse was treated.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Problem is, when they’re both angry, they sometimes lose control of their talents. I’ve been shocked three times today. Accidentally,” she added as a second thought. “I’m worried you’ll get shocked, too. They want to meet you after the auction is over. I tried to warn them you work the night shift, so after the auction, you’ll be exhausted. Her Royal Majesty decided you’d have proper accommodations.”
“What do you mean? The ranches have good staff quarters.” Even Elana liked them, as they were private, quiet, and away from the social portion of the weekend shows. “How are the staff quarters not proper?”
“They thought that because you were being so inconvenienced, you should stay in the main house with the dignitaries.”
“I’m going to need my suit.”
“Yeah. Banned. Again, I’m so sorry.”
“Suits are banned?”
“They got to Alexei, and Alexei showed off your ranch attire. They like your plaid button ups a lot. Your new hat is perfect, too. They want you dressed to sell horses—and you’ll fit in when the bidding happens. His Royal Majesty thought it’d be best if you were dressed like everyone else.”
I eyed my office closet, which had more rodeo attire than I knew what to do with. “How long am I going to be at the auction?”
“Tuesday morning is when we’ll head back. I asked Branst to get Morning Glory prepped for the trail
er, but you’ll have to deal with the black. We’re shipping them as soon as you’re ready to go. It’s a two hour drive, so you can catch a nap on the way. I called the grocers you went to the first time you took me to shop for ingredients and bought them out of chicken, ribs, and everything else that can possibly go onto a grill. It’s in the cooler ready to go.”
“Spices?”
“I may have bought everything not knowing what to get.”
“Pans?”
“Bought out three grocers.”
“How many people am I cooking for?”
“Over a hundred, but you’ll have a full staff helping; His Royal Majesty brought the palace kitchen staff with him and they’re to do what you say. The last request might be the worst one of all.”
I groaned. “Cake like from the restaurant because they can’t figure out how I make it.”
“Good guess.”
“They’re so predictable. I can make things other than that cake!”
“I know, I know. I suggested your brownies. They’re worth battling to the death over. That’s been authorized if you have time, but only if it doesn’t stop you from making that cake. The king was very clear he wanted to treat his daughter with it.”
Jessica loved that cake too much for her own good. I laughed. “I can make the cake. It’s okay. I’ll do an ingredient check, and if I’m missing anything, I’ll get someone to do a run in the morning. Actually, I’ll just pillage my spice supply here. I have enough for a large crowd in spices; I always keep a full week of the spices on hand, and that’s a lot more than what I’ll need for one lunch. I can also raid the fridge here.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Hemmington we’re pillaging the office for tomorrow. He won’t mind.”
“Please tell me there’s nothing else.”
Her gaze locked onto the dragon in my hands, and she bit her lip.
“The Tech Menace left a ridiculous number of LEGO sets on his floor. I have confiscated them. I thought I would leave this one on his desk with a ransom note.”
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