Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I look over at Bulldog. “He always been this bad?” I can’t see Sully or his dad hiring someone with such a quick trigger, but then, they hired me, and there have been lots of stories going around about me since I was last here.
“Nah. I mean, he’s always had his issues, but things have been worse lately. He’s drinking more too.”
I try not to think about that too much. I know what drinking every day can do to a guy…and his kids…because it was done to me, and it never felt good. “Let’s get this finished before the sun goes down.”
We get back to work, and before I know it, we’re back at the ranch house. Pixie comes running when she sees us, and I assume she’s going to talk to her daddy, but the little girl skids to a stop in front of me instead. “Storm let me give him an apple! Wanna see?”
“Sure do,” I tell her, trying not to make eye contact with Randy. I don’t want to be a dick to him, but I’m also not going to keep from seeing what Pixie wants to show me because he might get a hair up his ass about it. If he showed her he cared a little more, I’m sure it would be Randy she went to when she wanted attention.
Randy doesn’t say anything, likely because Pixie is with me as we head for Storm. I know it’s not me she’s choosing over her dad, but more the fact that she’s excited about Storm and knows how much I love the horse. “Mr. Bishop tried to feed him, but he wouldn’t take it out of his hand. He says he only does that with me and you. He also says we’re brats because everyone likes us.”
I chuckle. “Well, you, maybe, but I’m not so sure about me. And Sully is one to talk. Everyone loves him.” She looks at me, her little nose wrinkling. “What?”
“You called Mr. Bishop, Sully. I’ve never heard anyone do that before.”
Shit. I need to be more careful. It’s not something I want to get into with Pixie, so I say, “Race you there.”
“Go!” she shouts as she takes off running. I laugh and run after her. I’m not sure if letting kids win is something you’re really supposed to do, but I do it with her, pretending I’m trying my hardest and playing like I’m out of breath.
“You’re a little cheater.”
She rolls her eyes. “You let me win. Even I can tell that.”
Well, hell. I wouldn’t have called an adult out like that at her age. “Nope. I’m just slow. Now, are you gonna do this or what?”
She grabs an apple from the bucket, then walks over to the fence where Storm is. She doesn’t go inside, instead climbing onto the wooden rungs, holding her arm over it, and making a clicking sound with her tongue. “Come’ere, Storm.”
The mustang looks up, makes eye contact with us, and for a moment, I think he might not come. When she calls him over again, he takes a step toward us, then another. I can’t say if Pixie is holding her breath, but I am. While I’m making progress with Storm, he’s still finicky with other people. I’m hopeful he’ll take the apple from her. He did earlier, but you never know, and I don’t want her to get down about it.
Come on, boy, I say in my head, and he keeps coming, then bends his neck and snaps up the apple from her hand.
“Damn. Don’t you go trying to take my horse from me.” I wink so she knows I’m teasing her.
“Is he really yours?”
My chest tightens because I didn’t even realize I said that. No, Storm isn’t my horse. The only thing on this whole ranch that’s mine is my truck, small bag of shit, and my guitar. “Nah,” I reply.
“I bet Mr. Bishop would give him to you. You’re the one Storm loves best.”
“He can’t just go around giving away horses. That’s not really how it works, but thanks, kid.” I ruffle her hair.
“Patricia!” Randy yells from over by the barn. “Time to go!”
My spine stiffens slightly. I hate the thought of her leaving with him, but there’s not much I can do about it. Pixie is his daughter, and while Randy is a lot of things, I don’t think he would ever hurt her.
“Better go,” I say. “Storm wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”
She nods. “See ya tomorrow!” She turns her attention to Willow, the horse she’s most attached to, who’s making her way over. “Bye, Willow and Storm!” Then she runs her skinny little legs toward her daddy. They climb into his truck and drive away.
“I don’t trust that man,” I tell Storm, who huffs in response. “I knew you’d get it.”