“A farrier? Just to shoe horses? That’s going to cost us, Dad. And with the drought on, there’s no money to spare. We’ve been getting by for years with the cowboys shoeing their own horses, and Sky taking care of the rest.”
“Sky doesn’t have time. And neither do the cowboys, especially with the roundup coming up. Hear me out, Erin. I talked this over with Jasper, and he agrees—” Emotion stopped the words in his throat. He took a deep breath. “He agreed with me. We need a man who can keep our horses decently shod and in top condition. A good farrier’s like a doctor, and he has to know almost as much. He looks at their gait, their alignment, the whole animal. Then he trims the hooves for the best weight distribution and chooses a shoe to fit the horse’s needs.”
“That’s still going to cost money.”
“True. But I had a couple of hands quit last month to go on the rodeo circuit, so that’s two less to pay. And I figure that in the long run, having a farrier won’t cost us any more than having the cowboys take time from work to slap shoes on their mounts, then having horses go lame because they didn’t do the job right. We could get by with fewer horses if they were all in good shape. And if we had to sell off part of the remuda, we’d get a better price if they were well shod and in prime condition.”
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Erin said. “But a farrier would have to be paid a lot more than a common ranch hand. Can we afford a full-time man just to shoe horses?”
“We’ve got more than sixty horses in the remuda, as well as the brood mares and stallions,” Will said. “When roundup’s on, those cow ponies go through a lot of shoes. There should be plenty of work for him, at least through fall. And we already agreed that if he runs out of work here, he can take outside clients.”
“As I recall, the last stranger you hired didn’t work out so well,” Erin said. “He stole everything that wasn’t tied down.”
“Don’t remind me.” Will shook his head. “But it won’t happen again. This man was recommended by a customer. I met him a couple of weeks ago, when I picked up a truckload of hay from that big outfit east of the Prescott place. He said he’d been on the road since spring, going from ranch to ranch. I think he liked the idea of a steady job with a roof over his head. Quiet sort. He struck me as the kind of fellow who’ll do his work and never make trouble.”
“We’ll see.” Erin had always trusted her father’s business sense. But s
ince his wife’s death, Will’s judgment seemed to be less acute. Was it the shock of grief, a passing distraction, or only her imagination? Whatever the cause, she found herself questioning the decisions he made.
Like this farrier Will had hired. He could turn out to be just fine. But the fact that he hadn’t shown up as promised wasn’t a good sign.
“Why don’t you get some rest, Dad?” she suggested. “You’ve had a hellish day, and tomorrow won’t be much better.”
“At least I can try. What about you?” He stood and turned toward the door, then hesitated, as if reluctant to leave her outside alone.
“I’ll be along later. If your man shows up, I’ll introduce myself and point the way to the bunkhouse.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m too strung out to sleep.”
“All right, but don’t stay up too late. His name’s Maddox. He’ll be driving a black Chevy truck with a shell on the back and a two-wheel trailer behind. You can tell him there’s a couple of empty rooms and a bath on the second floor.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out for him. If he pulls in after I’ve gone to bed, that’ll be his problem.”
As her father went inside, shutting the front door behind him, Erin settled back in the chair and closed her eyes. After the emotionally draining day, she felt as if the earth had dropped away under her feet. In her growing-up years, three strong people had always been there for her—her mother, her father, and Jasper.
Tori, her beautiful, golden-haired mother, had slipped away four months ago, just weeks after her cancer diagnosis. Now Jasper was gone, too, and she sensed that her father was sinking into despair. He was putting on a brave face, but she could see the shadows that ringed his eyes and the slump of his once-proud shoulders. Erin knew the signs. It was as if she were losing him, too.
How could she even think of getting married when Will needed her? Her losses were his losses, perhaps even more deeply felt. This was no time for him to lose his daughter, his only child, to another man.
She had her answer for Kyle. Any talk of marriage would have to wait.
Erin greeted the decision with a sigh of relief. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much pressure Kyle’s proposal had put on her, and how unprepared she’d been to say yes and let him put that stunning diamond ring on her finger. Maybe later, she thought. Maybe in a year or so. But not yet.
As moments passed, she could feel herself relaxing in the chair. The peaceful sounds of night crept around her—the chirr of crickets under the porch, the faint creak of the windmill, the murmur of horses in the paddock, and the far-off wail of a coyote. Little by little, she began to drift....
* * *
The security light, mounted with a motion sensor on a leg of the windmill, flashed on, startling Erin awake. She jerked bolt upright in the chair, blinking in the brightness as she struggled to focus her sleep-dulled mind. What time was it?
A black pickup towing a small trailer was pulling into the ranch yard. That would be the farrier her father had hired, arriving late, without so much as a phone call to let anyone know when he’d be here. What was his name? Matlock? No, Maddox, that was it. Pushing to her feet, she took a deep breath and strode down the steps to meet him.
* * *
Luke Maddox let the truck’s engine idle a moment while he watched the Rimrock welcoming committee walk toward him. He’d expected Will Tyler to come lumbering out of the house, ready to rip a piece out of his hide for showing up after midnight. Instead, here was this woman—a pretty one at that. She was dressed like a boy, in jeans and a plaid shirt. But there was nothing boyish about her lithe, confident walk, her willowy figure, or the honey-colored hair that fluttered in the wind.
She looked young—too young for him, Luke reminded himself. So why did he find himself wishing he’d bought a pack of breath mints before leaving that poker game at the Blue Coyote in town? He would’ve been here sooner, but what the hell, he’d been winning. Tyler couldn’t fault him for that—not as long as he showed up ready for work in the morning.