“Welcome,” came a man’s voice from behind her. “You must be Kenzie. I’m Jon Mercer.” She turned to see a handsome man with sun-leathered skin, a Texas-sized smile, and startlingly green eyes.
Ciana circled her arms around Jon’s neck and kissed him. “Hi, cowboy.”
Kenzie shook Jon’s hand. “Can’t stay long,” he said, “but wanted to say hello and tell you a little about the horses you’ll be working with. The Appaloosa is an older mare found abandoned in a field. Never did find her owner. We’ve named her Mamie, after a teacher I once had. As you can see, she’s grossly underweight, but she’s quite docile. The small bay is Sparkle, another neglected mare but younger, with some open sores, probably from an encounter with a barbwire fence. Previous owner didn’t want her anymore, so we took her. Our vet’s prescribed a salve you’ll need to spread on her cuts. All three need serious hoof conditioning.”
Both mares looked pitiful. Their winter coats hung in clumps, their manes and tails were tangles of snarled coarse hair, and both were underweight, with ribs showing. “I’ll take care of them,” Kenzie promised, tamping down her anger at the horses’ condition. Her gaze gravitated to the gelding. “He looks to be in better health. What’s his problem?”
“He’s been sored and has chemical burns on his forelegs. His previous owner said the horse turned mean and gave him to an animal shelter. We brought him here.”
“Who would treat a beautiful horse that way?” Ciana asked, shaking her head.
My father and his trainer, Kenzie thought.
“Hasn’t soring been illegal since the seventies?” Ciana asked Kenzie.
“A toothless law. Trust me, soring is still being done, and many horse people turn a blind eye to it.” As had her father, Avery, who had fired his longtime trainer, Bill Hixson—but not until after Avery had won the World Grand Champion title riding Blaze in Shelbyville that year. Bill’s firing and charges of animal cruelty came after an exposé video was leaked, destroying his thirty-year career in the walking horse industry. Kenzie had headed to Vanderbilt for her freshman year amid the turmoil, and the summer job with Kaye had kept her away.
She shook off the past when Ciana, pointing to the dark bay, said, “A caveat about Blue Bayou. He doesn’t like men. Jon rarely meets a horse he can’t approach, but when he went close, Blue lunged at him with bared teeth.”
Kenzie’s eyes widened. Such aggressive behavior was rare in a tame horse.
“It took two of my workers and a blindfold to rope and tie him to a training post for his checkup and shots,” Jon said. “Perry says he’s healthy but ill-tempered, so be careful. He’s been hurt and he’s defensive.”
“The good news,” Ciana said, “is that Blue doesn’t mind women too much. He actually took a treat from me when Jon wasn’t around. That’s why we thought you might have a chance of changing his behavior.”
“You don’t have to take on Blue,” Jon said. “I can work with him, but I have a corral full of mustangs”—he thumbed over his shoulder—“so I can’t give Blue top priority for a while.”
“Not a problem,” Kenzie said firmly. “He’s mine.”
A smile turned up a corner of Jon’s mouth. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
Neither Ciana nor Jon had asked about her heart issues, which Kenzie appreciated. Kaye had told them about Kenzie’s heart but had also assured the Mercers that she could do the job. “I won’t let you down.”
Jon turned at the sound of corralled horses neighing from a distance. “Look, I need to get my men back to work, but before I go, your help will be here Friday. His name’s Austin Boyd and he’s driving down from Virginia. You’re in charge, but he’s been hired to do the heavy lifting. Make sure he does.”
Jon left, and Ciana said, “In the meantime, why don’t we go back to the bungalow and get you settled?”
* * *
—
It took little time to move Kenzie’s belongings from her car into the house; she’d left most of her belongings from her dorm room in storage holds at Vanderbilt. Her clothing filled only two dresser drawers and less than half the closet space. “You travel light.” Ciana shook out a long skirt and peasant blouse, hung both on the clothes bar.
“I figured all I’d need this summer were jeans, shorts, and a stack of tees.” Kenzie tucked a pile of folded shirts into a drawer. “One girly outfit, a jacket, work boots, sandals, sneakers. What more is necessary? I’m guessing the horses won’t care what I look like.”
Ciana laughed. “True, but FYI—we throw a July Fourth barbecue, invite the whole town. Please join us. We smoke our own meat, cook up a feast. We stage it in a tent by the big barn at the front of our property. With all the ranch work moved to the back, our boarders stable their horses in the old barn. Sometimes I exercise horses for owners when they can’t get out here.”
“Maybe I can help with that while my horses get healthier. I enjoy riding.”
“You’d be welcome. We have a nice riding trail that starts behind your pasture. When your horses are strong enough for a saddle, take them down there. Use the exercise track anytime to give a horse a good workout. Until you go back to a college dorm, treat this place like your home, and enjoy your summer.”
That word home again. How could she tell Ciana that her reluctance to go home went far deeper than her grudge against her father and Bill? Fearful of falling to pieces in front of her new employer, Kenzie blurted, “I saw a couple of other houses when I parked.”
“One is my mother’s. The other is for Jon’s mom, if we can ever pry her out of Texas.”
Kenzie flashed again to February, saw her own mother’s face twisted with inconsolable grief. She grabbed her purse off the bed. “You know, before it’s time to feed the horses, I’m going to run into town and hit the grocery store, stock up on supplies to keep company with that lone pitcher of lemonade.”
She left Ciana standing in the middle of the bedroom floor and rushed out the door.
* * *
—
The man moved farther down the tree line to better observe Kenzie, who’d come out of the stable with Ciana at dusk. The women had rolled wheelbarrows into the pasture and, in separate corners of the field, heaped piles of fresh hay onto the ground. Kenzie wore a denim jacket against the cool evening air and shin-high rubber work boots. Once the barrows were empty, the women withdrew to the outside of the fence, and the horses approached the fresh feed, two eating side by side, while the third, in the opposite corner, ate alone. The man heard the light buzz of the women’s voices but was too far away to hear their conversation.
As he held up his binoculars, he saw a man, accompanied by a large white German shepherd, joining the women. Alarmed, the watcher compressed his body behind a thick tree. He hadn’t factored in a dog, hoped he was far enough downwind to escape the animal’s keen nose—otherwise he was in trouble. Minutes later, the three people and the dog headed away.
Close call. He held his position until night fell, then moved swiftly across the field, crossed the road to where he’d stashed his car. He was removing brush from the top of the vehicle when he felt the cell phone in his jeans pocket vibrate and dug it out. “Yes?”
“Are you in?” asked a man’s voice.
“I’m in, no worries.”
“And you have eyes on her?”
“Yes.”
“And you can do the job?”
“I told you I could, and I will.” He hung up, started the engine, pulled onto the dark road, and drove away.
Ciana helped Kenzie with each of the four daily feedings of the rescue horses, beginning with the morning grain allotment inside each stall, then the sweet hay heaped outside in the pasture. Kenzie’s priorities were to make the horses feel safe and see her as trustworthy, which was not easy with Blue, who was still skittish around people. She was mucking out stalls at the end o
f the week when Ciana walked through the doorway leading a beautiful palomino. She stepped out of the stall, shovel in hand. “Hey, this is a surprise. Did you bring us another mouth to feed?”
“Nope, announcing my retirement and going on a trail ride. Your hired hand showed up to take over my job.”
Kenzie craned her neck, her heart tripping. Time to become a boss. “So, where is he?”
“I told him to park by the big barn up front and get acquainted with Soldier, then toss his gear in the bunkhouse. I like the dog to give visitors a good sniffing to familiarize him with their scents. That way Soldier knows who’s allowed on the property and who isn’t. A lot of boarders come and go, but Soldier’s nose never forgets them.”
Kenzie leaned her shovel against a wall, went to the palomino, and scratched the horse’s white blaze beneath his forelock. “Beautiful horse. Yours?”
“Sort of. Oro belongs to my friend Lani. She asked me to sell him for her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Jon says I take in unwanted horses like a cat lady collecting strays. Extra feed bills, for sure, but some of the horses on our property are like family. I can’t let them go.”
Kenzie laughed. “Does that make you a horse hoarder?”
“Guilty. There’s a reason for my hoarding, though. Lani is a nurse at our Windemere children’s hospital in the cancer unit. She and I have this idea we call Trailblazers—a riding program for kids with special needs and in remission. Oro’s easygoing and has a calm and patient disposition, and that makes him perfect for working with children. We’ll need more horses like him.”
Images of her tenth birthday and her father giving her Princess Ronan floated into Kenzie’s memory. Love at first sight. “Horses and kids are a good fit.”
“I’ll have Lani stop by and talk to you about the program. She’s a pretty special person, and I think you’ll enjoy meeting her.”
Kenzie smoothed her hands along Oro’s neck and mane. His sleek coat gleamed. She wanted her rescue horses to look this healthy in the few months she had with them. “You know, Tennessee walkers make excellent saddle horses for beginners.”
Ciana winked. “So I’ve heard. If Mamie’s not adopted, she might have a home at Bellmeade. Just sayin’.”
The trickiest part of any rescue program could be the adoption. Certainly, horses like Blue and Sparkle were likely to find good homes, but Mamie was old, making her not as attractive to potential buyers. “I’ll see what I can do with the three out there,” Kenzie whispered conspiratorially.
They were laughing when a man strolled into the stable. He nodded at Ciana, removed his ball cap, and held out his hand to Kenzie. “I’m Austin Boyd. You must be Kenzie.”
Austin Boyd wasn’t what Kenzie had been expecting. For starters, he didn’t look that much older than she was. He stood well over six feet and had thick, shaggy, sun-streaked brown hair and blue-green eyes set in a too-good-looking face, made more attractive by a lopsided boyish smile. He was broad chested, with well-muscled arms, and wore a black T-shirt that stretched taut across his chest and shoulders, along with worn jeans, and heavy-duty work boots instead of traditional cowboy boots. Austin looked more “biker” than cowboy to her. “Yes, I’m Kenzie Caine.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” His gaze held hers boldly. Kenzie blinked first, turned away.
“Okay, then,” Ciana said. “I’ll let you two get acquainted while I ride. Enjoy!” She led Oro out the opposite doorway, mounted the palomino, and cantered away.
Pleasure wasn’t what Kenzie felt at finding herself alone with Austin Boyd. With a rush, she realized he reminded her of someone else, someone she hated.
“Everything okay?” Austin asked, glancing around the stable she’d spent days organizing. “I’m told you’re the boss, so where do I start?”
Kenzie shifted her weight foot to foot, unnerved partly by her emotional reaction to Austin. “For now, just get acquainted with the place; then I’ll take you to meet our horses.” She grabbed her shovel, still rattled by her initial impression, a sense of déjà vu and visceral reaction that had so quickly hurled her backward through time. She returned to the stall where she’d been working, began scooping up matted straw and tossing it into a wheelbarrow. He followed her, put his hand on the shovel’s handle. “Let me do this.”
“I can do it!”
Looking startled, he backed away, hands raised. “Sorry. I was only trying to help.”
She closed her eyes, took deep breaths. “I…I know. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I guess I was expecting someone—” She searched for words.
He grinned sheepishly. “You mean someone more like a wrangler, a been-around-the-rodeo-scene-for-a-lifetime kind of guy? I once had a boss tell me I looked more hot dog than cowboy. Sorry if I go against type.”
His description of her expectation was spot-on. She’d seen Jon’s men standing by the corral—sun-leathered skin, old-soul faces. Those men would have hands scarred and burned by ropes from years of working with horses and cattle. Austin’s hands were large, and although the skin looked toughened, she saw no testimony to rough, hard ranch work. She chewed her bottom lip. “Honestly, you really don’t look like Jon’s other hires.”
He laughed, ran a hand through the thick waves of hair. “Want me to cowboy up for you? I don’t mind, if that’s what you’d like.”
Her knee-jerk reaction to Austin had faded, but she couldn’t deny she would have preferred a helper who looked more saddle-worn. She shook her head. “The horses only care about getting fed.”
“Listen, Jon hired me to help you, and that’s what I’m here for. I can look the place over later. For now, put me to work.”
Taking him at his word, Kenzie gestured to a utility closet at one end of the stable. “There’s another shovel in there. You can start cleaning out the two other stalls and spreading fresh straw from that bale on the floor.”
“On my way.” He gathered the shovel and a second wheelbarrow, removed a cell phone from his shirt pocket, settled earbuds in his ears, and went to work in the stall next to hers. Watching him irritated Kenzie. She liked silence when she worked, always listening out for her horses and being mindful of their needs. A constant stream of music or podcast chatter was no way to be on guard for anything going wrong. Kenzie scooped up a shovel of refuse and heaved it into the wheelbarrow. The pile landed badly, almost tipping over the whole barrow. She stopped, gathered herself, and proceeded more slowly and with less temper. Austin Boyd would not be the reason for her slipping this summer.
* * *
—
Once they were finished inside the stable, Kenzie told Austin, “Come meet the horses.”
They walked to the pasture fence, stood side by side under a warm sun sparkling in a crystal-clear blue sky. Kenzie gave Austin a brief rundown on the three horses, including Blue’s behavior toward males. The three horses grazed, the mares together, Blue Bayou alone on the other side of the field. “He’s been sored, and he doesn’t trust people.”
Austin looked confused. “Sored? Not sure what that means.”
“Really?” She was caught off guard. “I’m surprised you came to work with Tennessee walkers and don’t know about soring.”
“I owned a horse from the time I was a kid until I went off to college. I know how to care for a horse.”
Kenzie was again dismayed. Not only did this Austin not look like what she’d expected, but it was also possible he had no serious experience working with horses. Owning a horse while growing up was hardly a recommendation, to her way of thinking. “What do you know?”
“I know these mares look malnourished, and we need to get their body weight back to normal. The Appaloosa looks pretty old. The other mare seems lethargic. And the gelding looks unfriendly.”
This evaluation left Kenzie marginally impressed. “Well, just remember, horses are herd animals with a peckin
g order, and that old mare is the boss of this little herd. She and the younger mare rank above the gelding, so he’s having to keep his distance. And because the females are ignoring him, and because men have abused him, Blue’s very insecure. It’s my job to gain his trust, make him feel safe enough to be ridden again.”
“Don’t you mean our job to make him feel safe around us? Since I’m part of your team, shouldn’t Blue learn to accept me too?”
His questions held a challenge she hadn’t expected. She wasn’t thinking of them as a team, not like she and Kaye had been. They had been able to read each other’s minds as they worked together. Kenzie wasn’t sure she wanted such a connection with Austin. “Okay…so, what do you know about the Tennessee walking breed? Or about rescuing abused horses?”
“Apparently not as much about either as I should.” His gaze was unwavering. In the open sunlight, under the bright sky, the man’s eyes looked deep blue. Inside the stable, their color had been more green. Chameleon eyes.
She crossed her arms as if to protect herself. “Did you just take this job to fritter away an otherwise dull summer? I need to know, because these horses must learn to trust humans again for food and care. They’ll need to be ridden, and hopefully, if we do our jobs right, adopted. They’ll need their stalls mucked, their pasture area cleaned up daily. You ready to do that?”
“I’ve picked up manure in a pasture before, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll do it every day. Guaranteed. And for the record, this job is not a summer vacation, believe me. I’m here to work and help you. I won’t slack.” His voice was steady but held an undercurrent that let her know she’d crossed a line with him.
The Girl with the Broken Heart Page 2