Show Me a Family for Christmas : Small-Town Single-Father Cowboy Romance (Cowboy Crossing Romances Book 6)

by Alexa Verde

  He smiled. But, as much as he loved horses, his daughter’s safety was his priority. “Not yet. Horses are prey animals, so they get spooked easily. Then they can buck or bite. Let them get used to us and our scent.” At the sleigh ride, he’d waited for some time before approaching the snowflake Appaloosa.

  “Oh. Okay, Daddy.”

  He finally got the chance to wear his Wranglers and cowboy boots, as well as a cowboy hat, and he felt so much more comfortable in them than in the suits he wore to work now.

  Gwendolyn wasn’t here yet, and his heart dipped. Was she late? Or did she change her mind?

  He took the chance to get familiar with the place. It was his kind of place, after all. The stable was well kept and large with many stalls and a system to heat water in the winter to have a constant source of fresh water. Horses who in their turn seemed to study him and who looked healthy and content.

  He breathed in the familiar scents of hay and leather again that calmed his frayed nerves, transferring him to his childhood when he’d still believed in the best in people. Longing disturbed him and yet, somehow, soothed him.

  Argh. He didn’t need to rehash everything he’d missed by walking away from the foreman job he’d worked so hard to get.

  His appreciative gaze roamed over the magnificent horses who whinnied at him and Daisy. Thankfully, the animals didn’t exhibit any signs of unfriendliness like flaring nostrils or pulled-back ears.

  One of the horses attracted his attention, probably because he saw Snowflake in every snowflake Appaloosa he’d encountered as if he could return the one he’d had to let go. His father could’ve helped keep her instead of letting her be sold, eventually to the people who’d mistreated her, but he’d chosen not to.

  Conner swallowed hard. He needed to let resentment go. If not for himself, then for his daughter’s sake.

  “I like this one.” Daisy pointed at the snowflake Appaloosa who whinnied softly.

  “Me, too,” he admitted. “But let’s start with ponies, okay?”

  His girl nodded, her head bobbing in a funny way in that cute pink helmet. She trusted him, and his heart skipped a beat as he hoped she never lost that trust.

  He moved in the direction of the Appaloosa as if drawn by a magnet. The horse brought her head up, legs poised as if ready to take off at a gallop. Her tail raised.

  Uh-oh. He was scaring her.

  He stopped and waited, making sure his posture and facial expression exhibited calm confidence without being threatening. He took a few long breaths to have that calmness he wanted to portray inside him, too. Horses could sense humans’ moods, could read facial expressions, and didn’t like being around nervous people. Especially when those people were strangers.

  Establishing trust was paramount.

  After a few minutes, the tail moved down, and the horse’s legs were all firmly on the ground. The head lowered. Good. Her posture was getting more relaxed.

  He stifled his nostalgia. Placement mats evenly covered the cement floor. The bedding looked clean, so the place was mucked regularly. Mangers raised from the ground to keep the hay from getting soiled waited for feeding time. But the most important part—the horses looked healthy and muscular. They clearly spent most of the year on the pasture and were taken out daily and exercised in winter.

  They looked... happy.

  He’d like to work here.

  He pushed the thought away. He had a different life and different obligations now.

  “Let me take you to the ponies.” Gwendolyn’s voice was soft, and yet it startled him.

  He whirled around, his heart beating fast. So much for calmness.

  Daisy grinned and waved at Gwendolyn, omitting the exuberant greeting she usually gave the nanny, probably due to the lesson not to be loud around horses. Gwendolyn smiled and waved back at the girl.

  “Thanks.” He gave one more glance at the snowflake Appaloosa as if he needed to commit the image to memory. Then he and Daisy followed Gwendolyn.

  She led him to a separate smaller building sheltering Shetland ponies and Norwegian Fjords. The latter probably had been bought for when the children grew up. Fjords were smaller than other breeds but larger than ponies. Like the other stable, this well taken care of place impressed him.

  “The family bought them for when children want larger horses.” Gwendolyn seemed to read his mind. “Also because the Clarks are running a program of summer and winter camps for foster teens now.”

  He closed his eyes, then opened them. He should’ve told them from the beginning who he was. He should have! What a miracle they accepted him and he’d received an open invitation to visit any time, though the guys didn’t seem too happy.

  Daisy looked around, wide-eyed. “Wow! And I can choose any one?”

  “I’ve brought the children here before, so I’m somewhat familiar with the place and animals. I’d suggest...” Gwendolyn pointed at a pony to the left. “He has a more mild character, I was told.”

  Perfect. He placed a protective hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Ponies are often playful but can be naughty, as well.” A few of them neighed as if to confirm it, but then he winced from a sting of guilt for stereotyping ponies. “How about you groom him first? It’s good for the pony and would be a great way to bond.”

  Gwendolyn’s gaze became pensive as if she thought about something else. “Establishing a bond is important. Even essential.”

  He studied her. “But then it’s difficult when one has to break that bond.”

  She looked away, and he winced. Just like him, she’d had to break the bond with the people who mattered to her, and he didn’t want to remind her. And he didn’t want to lose her, but their bond would have to be broken in less than a week.

  His hand moved toward her, but before he could say anything, Daisy tugged on his coat sleeve. “Daddy, where’s the bucket with brushes?”

  “Brushes? Oh yes, right.” He glanced over the stable.

  “I’ll get it.” Gwendolyn left.

  While she was away, he and Daisy approached the pony. “Horses have blind spots right in front of them and behind them. So never, never approach them from behind. Remember they were prey animals, so move forward slowly to show you’re no threat. Imagine you’re a pony. You want to feel safe.”

  “I’m no threat, Daddy.” Daisy grinned up at him. “I’m a friend.”

  He let the pony adjust to the girl first, watching the body language carefully. The pony’s tail was down, and his posture peaceful.

  “Here we go.” Gwendolyn returned with a bucket filled with grooming essentials.

  The pony greeted her like an old acquaintance, and it soothed something inside Conner. People said animals could often sense the human’s character, and he agreed.

  Pleased they had many grooming tools, he picked up the rubber currycomb first. “This one is to remove shedding hair, dried sweat, and mud. Do it like this.” He moved the rubber comb in circles.

  “Okay, Daddy.” Daisy gently rubbed the pony in circular motions as she took the currycomb. “Like that?”

  “Yes.”

  Gwendolyn picked up the rubber mitt. “I’ll work with this one.”

  “It’s best to use it on the legs and head,” he said. “Those parts are more sensitive.”

  “I know.” Her lips curved up. “I’ll be gentle. My grandpa used to work on a ranch, so he took me with him from time to time. I found it easier to relate to horses than to people.” True to her word, she gently removed debris first from the pony’s head, then legs.

  So they had even more in common than he’d realized. A woman after his own heart.

  “Daddy, I’m done!” Daisy placed the currycomb aside. “Now what?”

  “We’ll use the dandy brush.” He took a brush with long bristles from the bucket. “See how the rubber brush brought up dirt to the surface? We need to remove it. Remember to follow the direction in which the hair grows. I’ll do this part, okay?” As Gwendolyn and Daisy nodded, he removed dirt in qu
ick movements.

  Daisy grinned, and Gwendolyn smiled at him. He enjoyed this mundane task more than he’d enjoyed elegant exhibition openings with champagne he’d never liked.

  “Now this, right?” Daisy picked a body brush with much softer bristles.

  He nodded, relishing every moment. “You’re learning fast. Yes, we’ll polish the coat.” He demonstrated how with long careful movements. “But you know how you get ticklish under your armpits? A horse can get ticklish on the belly near their flanks.”

  Daisy giggled as if he tickled her already. “Really? Huh. They get ticklish, too.”

  The pony moved his head up and down as if nodding.

  “He said yes! He said yes!” Daisy screamed.

  Several ponies neighed nervously.

  Gwendolyn pressed a finger close to her lips. “Shhh. They are afraid of loud noises. Anything they don’t recognize can create an urge to flee.”

  “Oh.” Daisy blinked. “I don’t want them to run away. I’ll be careful. Let me shine the pony.”

  Conner didn’t think shine was the right term, but no reason to correct his daughter. He exchanged glances with Gwendolyn, and she smiled as if she thought the same thing.

  He knew then this would be one of the best days he’d had in years.

  Once Daisy was done, he reached for the clean cloth. “Okay, time for—”

  “Extra shine?” Daisy said excitedly, then in a much lower tone, “Oops.”

  He chuckled. “That, too. But we’ll also dampen a cloth to wash around the eyes, ears, and nose.” He started on the nose and let Daisy do the rest. The pony seemed quiet and timid, and Conner wished he and Daisy had more time to get to know him better. But then, it took years to get to know a horse well, often a lifetime.

  “What about his forehead and chin?” Daisy asked once she finished, and Gwendolyn hurried to rinse the cloth.

  “Good question. We’ll use the face brush for that. See how it has soft bristles? Don’t forget about his jaw and throat-latch areas, too.” He did it for the most part and let Daisy finish the job while Gwendolyn cleaned the brushes.

  “We’re not going to bathe him, are we?” Gwendolyn stroked the star on the pony’s forehead.

  “Hmm, no. It’s too cold for that right now.”

  “Daddy, we gotta do something.” Daisy picked up the sponge.

  “Yes, we gotta. Run it under the warm water, and we’ll clean his face, neck, and where the saddle and girth had been.”

  Then came the mane and tail. They used the detangler first, making sure not to pull any hair out, and then the girls had fun braiding the mane.

  “Daddy, how old was the oldest horse who ever lived?” Daisy asked while braiding, a happy grin on both Daisy’s and the pony’s faces.

  “Sixty-two. You’re doing a great job, Sweetie Pie.” Maybe being around horses could have the same healing effect on his daughter as it had on him and Gwendolyn. Daisy seemed happy here, and that made him happy, too. At least, for now.

  He recalled the work on the gallery he had to do online in the evening. Duty called—sometimes literally. So this peaceful respite wouldn’t last long. On the other hand, his mother had sounded upbeat as he’d checked on her every day, and he was grateful.

  “Why are those horses”—Daisy pointed at the Fjords—“not like the ones we saw before?” Apparently, her curious mind never rested.

  “They are different breeds.” Gwendolyn slowed down on braiding so Daisy could keep up. “There are around four hundred breeds of horses, actually.”

  “I’m impressed you know that,” he whispered to Gwendolyn.

  “All these horses are tame, and mustangs are wild, right?” Daisy grinned at the work of her hands.

  “Mustangs are domestic horses that escaped,” he said. “The only wild horse is the Przhevalsky horse that originated in Mongolia. By the way, braided horses were once a status symbol, but it also helped keep the reins from tangling up.”

  Gwendolyn smiled as she finished braiding. “I’m impressed you know all this, too.”

  He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “I’m a man of the horse.”

  Whoa. A low breath slid from his lungs. How true that was!

  “The pony looks beautiful. You’ve done an awesome job.” Gwendolyn quietly high-fived Daisy.

  Daisy beamed.

  “You’re so great with her,” he said as he cleaned the grooming tools.

  She gave the same nonchalant shrug he’d done. “Turns out, I’m a children’s person.”

  If you’re a children’s person, then why do you work as a bodyguard?

  He didn’t ask it, only nodded. “That you are.” He used the hoof pick to clean the hooves, then had Daisy wash her hands and put on her gloves.

  Then Gwendolyn tensed. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at the entrance as if she heard something. He listened intently and heard steps in the crunching snow and voices outside.

  Liberty and Danica walked inside, and a few ponies neighed in greeting.

  “Who is ready for riding lessons?” Without waiting for an answer, Liberty marched to the ponies, and her gaze roamed over them as if giving a quick assessment.

  “I am!” Daisy jumped up and down. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Oops.”

  “It’s okay.” Liberty glanced back and winked at her. “But first, your pony will need riding gear.” She pointed toward the saddles, bridles, reins, halters, and so on.

  “Right.” He wished he’d bought Daisy a saddle that would fit her exactly. Maybe one day... He brushed aside the thought.

  Ponies were okay with him, but with time, Daisy would want to mount a horse, and he was afraid for her to fall. He’d always be afraid for her to fall. She was his entire world.

  He inspected the gear, glad to find it clean and in great condition.

  Once the pony they’d groomed was ready and outside, Liberty took the rope. “I’ll take care of Daisy and Danica. You two can just—”

  “Take a walk!” Danica announced, her grin a bit too innocent not to look suspicious.

  He eyed Daisy as he placed his hand on the reins, torn between his desire to spend time with Gwendolyn and his worry for his daughter. “Will you be okay?”

  “Daddy, please! I’m not a baby.” Daisy scrunched her nose in her funny way.

  He lifted her up and placed her in the saddle. “To me, you’ll always be my baby.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Okay, Sweetie Pie. Be careful.” While he was drawn to Gwendolyn, it took an effort to let the reins go with his child.

  “We will be.” Liberty gave him a reassuring look.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll stay close.” Gwendolyn studied him. “Now, why don’t we go visit the Appaloosa you liked so much? I’m sure she could use some grooming and bonding, too.”

  So she’d noticed.

  They returned to the other stable, and this time, he brought the bucket with the cleaning tools. The Appaloosa didn’t show any signs of distress as he approached her but studied him with curious eyes. He stood in close proximity, then moved his hand toward her. The mare didn’t move, so he stroked the smooth coat between her eyes, his lungs filling with hope.

  He didn’t say a word, but he’d learned that, with horses, one often didn’t need to.

  “She welcomes you,” Gwendolyn whispered.

  Who’d think a simple task could soothe a soul so much?

  As he started with the rubber currycomb again, he brought up the topic that didn’t soothe him at all. “Any more scary calls or ghost-car sightings?”

  She picked up another tool. “Not yet. Let’s... let’s talk about something else for now.”

  “Okay, but... Can I join you in the meeting with Vera to discuss the investigation tonight? Maybe my fresh eye could be useful.”

  She moved the brush in careful motions over the mare’s coat, then nodded. “Okay. I... I reached out to my sister. She’s coming here soon. We’ve been apart for over three decades. You reuniting with you
r family helped me realize how much I missed mine.”

  “I’m glad.” And he was. He wanted the best for Gwendolyn.

  They worked in companionable silence, and he was taken back to many years ago. Then he blurted out, “One of my dreams was to become a trainer for mistreated horses. To try to heal their broken spirits.” Maybe in that process, he could heal his, too.

  She leaned toward him, the gentle scent of her perfume mixing with the scent of hay. “It’s not my right to say, but you should go live your dream. You love horses and have a talent with them.”

  Longing stirred him with a stronger force than he’d expected. “I... I can’t. My mother might need my help. And I have a responsibility to run the art gallery. It meant a lot to Annika. And it’s Daisy’s legacy.”

  Gwendolyn placed the brush aside and touched his hand, sending waves of excitement through him. “You know what would mean even more to her and to your daughter than you running the gallery? For you to be happy. To do what you love.”

  Her words took root, but he shook his head, then picked up a rubber mitten and worked on the Appaloosa’s legs. “It’s not about me. I’ve already had managers mess up several exhibitions. I can’t risk it again.”

  She looked him in the eyes, without blinking. “I understand you studied a lot to manage the gallery—you’ve given years of your life to make sure it’s the best it can be. And I understand you had bad experience with the people you hired to run the gallery before. But there are good managers out there, too. Why don’t you find one?”

  When she looked at him like that, as if she cared like few people had done before her, rational thought became difficult. “The assistant manager I have now is better than the others were. But the gallery is my responsibility. I can’t be selfish and walk away from my obligations.”

  Like his biological father had walked from his responsibility. Like his mother had emotionally checked out when her husband had mistreated his daughter. Not to mention his stepfather who instead of caring for his child had abused her. Like they’d let his baby brother die.

  Gwendolyn shook her head so vigorously, her sun-kissed curls went flying. “It’s not selfish. God gives us a talent for a reason. The way you talked to me about horses... You have a light in your eyes that you don’t have when you talk about the gallery. And when you talk to horses, even when you don’t say anything, you come alive. Training horses is your talent. That’s what you were born to do.”