A Baby Changes Everything. Marie Ferrarella
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spend with her. That meant he was failing her somehow. More than anything else, he didn’t like failing.
A fifth horse was being led off the transport. The hand was having a difficult time bringing him over to the corral. This was the horse that Tyler had thrown in for a song.
“You’ll be doing me a favor taking it off my hands,” Eric Tyler had told him. Tugging off his hat, the older man had scratched his thinning hair and shaken his head. “I purely don’t know what to do with him.”
Even though he’d seen the other four as a sound investment of his time and money, Cruz had been drawn to the last animal immediately.
There was something about the black horse, an air that separated him from the others. There was the same amount of intelligence in its eyes as the other four—more, really—but also something else. A wariness coupled with fire.
He seemed almost human.
This one, Cruz had thought, watching as several of Tyler’s hands scattered after trying to herd the horse into a smaller corral, was a prize. A warrior.
Turning him into a working cutting horse wouldn’t be easy.
But Cruz loved a challenge.
“What’s his name?” he had asked, approaching the corral.
“Diablo,” Tyler had told him.
Diablo. The devil. It fit.
Inside the corral now, Diablo shook his proud head, his deep brown eyes locking with Cruz’s across the length of the field. Cruz found himself smiling.
“You think you’ll come out on top, don’t you?” he murmured almost to himself. “You’re in for a surprise, my friend.”
But taming and training Diablo was going to take time, and right now he needed to get busy with the four he’d purchased. He had a contract with the Flying W to turn over four fully trained cutting horses by the end of the month. That meant focusing his day a little differently, but it could be done.
The July sun beat down mercilessly.
Cruz could feel the line of sweat forming around the rim of his worn Stetson. Taking it off, he wiped his brow, then set the hat back on his head as his eyes swept over the field. One of his hands was still in the stables, mucking the stalls out before spreading a fresh layer of straw. The other two were caring for the horses that had been led into the corral. Horses needed to be washed down, especially in this heat.
Two of his mares were expecting. One had given birth to a dead colt last year. He hoped that her luck would be better this time around. There wasn’t anything to do but wait and see.
A thousand details to keep tabs on.
He thought about what Savannah had said about Hank. That he should consider making the wrangler a foreman. That he should give serious thought to entrusting others with more responsibility rather than shouldering it all himself. It would make life easier, he thought. But it was just that he did everything better than anyone.
It wasn’t vanity that prompted his feelings, it was training and ability. He’d been a cowboy all of his life, and he knew exactly what it took to run a ranch. He’d waited all his life for the chance.
And here it was.
Still, he knew damn well that he couldn’t be everywhere at once. When it came to the daily chores, he figured he’d be safe enough assigning those to the others without having to stand over them to make sure everything was taken care of. Feeding, bathing, exercising the horses and cleaning out their stalls took time. Cruz made up his mind to allow the others to take care of those details.
But training the horses, putting them through their paces until he was satisfied that they were the best they could be, was another matter entirely. Training horses was careful, almost artistic work. That was his domain.
Still, he had to start letting go somewhere, he thought. Going into Red Rock was on his agenda today, but he couldn’t do that and get the horses comfortable around him at the same time. He looked toward where a tall, rail-thin cowboy with bright red hair stood talking to another hand. Catching the redhead’s eye, he waved the man over.
“Hank, we need some more horse liniment and I’m going to have to buy saddles for these four. Why don’t you take one of the boys and go into Red Rock and pick them up for me?” He took the ranch credit card out of his wallet and handed it to Hank. “And while you’re at it, we’re running low on feed.”
“Yes, I know.” Taking off his hat, Hank ran a hand through his hair. He looked at his boss a little uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. It was a known fact that Cruz, although a fair man, was a control freak. “You want me to pick out the saddles?”
Cruz took Hank’s hesitant look to mean that he wasn’t up to the task. But since he’d asked him to handle it, he couldn’t very well back off. “Why? Don’t you feel you can?”
“Well, hell, yeah, they’re only saddles.” He looked at Cruz curiously. “But you always wanted to do it before.”
Cruz blew out a breath. This letting go wasn’t going to be easy, no matter what Savannah thought. She was clearly the smarter one, he’d give her that, but he was the one who knew what it took to operate a ranch. Still, he supposed he owed it to her to give this some kind of trial run.
“I’m delegating.” The word felt like hardened peanut brittle in his mouth. “Something my wife keeps telling me I should do.”
Hank nodded his head, no doubt pleased with the idea. A grin curved his mouth. “Well, seeing as how you’re ‘delegating’ stuff, I could help you with the training.” He nodded toward the corral, where all five horses stood, four in relatively close proximity and Diablo over to the side.
It was no secret that Hank had set his cap on becoming a trainer, that he’d spent hours of his free time watching Cruz as he put horses through their paces.
But Cruz knew watching and feeling an instinct were two different things. You couldn’t learn instinct. Even the thought of sharing the responsibility of training the horses didn’t sit well with him.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he replied, in the same tone of voice that parents used to make children believe they had a ghost of a chance of something coming true, when in reality the exact opposite was more likely.
Hank ran his hand along his neck, nodding. The look in his eyes when they met Cruz’s said he knew that what he’d just suggested wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.
Hank blew out a breath as he set his hat far back on his head. “Yeah, well, it was just a thought.” Putting the credit card into his shirt pocket, he stuck his hands into his back pockets. “Want me to take the Mustang?”
“No, take the truck,” Cruz told him. He dug the keys out of his jeans and tossed them to the other man. “You’re going to need the space,” he added.
“Yeah, right.”
Hank closed his hand around the keys. Walking off toward the parking area, he called one of the other hands over to join him in his trip to Red Rock.
Watching him go, Cruz frowned.
The man hadn’t even asked to take the proper vehicle. How was Cruz going to make him a foreman if he didn’t have enough sense to take a truck instead of a small, vintage Mustang when he went to get four saddles and fresh feed for the horses?
And this was the man Savannah wanted him to put in charge directly under him? No way. Cruz was going to have to stay on top of everything—unless he wanted La Esperanza to quickly become the property of the bank that held its mortgage.
He knew he had to get started, but he took a second to walk over to Diablo. The stallion was at the far end of the corral, separating himself from the other quarter horses as if he knew he was special.
No failure of ego here, Cruz thought, amused.
He