Mama always spoke English with their Hispanic employees. She felt it was to everyone’s advantage if they all used the language of the country where they lived. Not very PC, but it made sense to Mama. And the workers didn’t seem to mind.
“I wonder why he decided to come here,” Raney said after Maria left with the tray.
“Who? Dalton?”
First names already. That wasn’t good. “There must be other jobs available.”
“He heard we were branching out into cutting horses. He seemed quite knowledgeable.”
“About our plans to expand?”
“About cutting horses. I think he’ll make a good trainer.”
Raney felt the stirrings of alarm. Surely her mother hadn’t hired him without talking to her? “You’re serious.”
“He knew right off that Rosco was the best of the colts. And he knew exactly what to do when he put the colt through his paces in the big pen.”
“No. Oh, hell no.” Raney’s boots hit the slate floor with a resounding thud. “He’s not training any of my horses.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a convict!”
“Ex-convict. And that doesn’t make him a poor trainer. Have some grace, Raney. Everybody deserves a second chance.”
“He killed a man!”
“Actually, it was Jim Bob who ran into Dalton’s tractor, so in a way, Jim Bob killed himself.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re defending him?”
Her mother frowned at her. “It’s not like you to overact this way. Is there something I don’t know?”
Raney had the insane urge to leap over the ridiculous giant ottoman and strangle her mother.
Oblivious, Mama continued. “He seems like a nice young man. And he has a low opinion of Roy Kilmer, which says a lot about his character. Besides, I know his parents. The Cardwells are good, churchgoing people.”
“I can’t believe this. You would actually go off and leave me and Joss—your pregnant daughter, and a terrible judge of men, I might add—with an ex-con.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve already spoken to Alejandro. He’ll keep an eye on him. Just give him a chance, darling. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Why are you so taken with a guy you don’t even know?”
“I’m not sure. He just seems right for the job. Maybe a little lost. And you know how I am about strays.”
Raney did. The barn was overrun with cats because of it.
“And he loves horses as much as you do,” Mama went on. “Talk to him when he starts Rosco tomorrow. You’ll see.”
Tomorrow? She’d already hired him?
“And if you’re worried about experience,” Mama added, ignoring Raney’s astonished outrage, “we’ll send him to Preston Amala for training. Press would be just the man to bring him up to snuff since he’s the one who started Rosco’s training.”
God help me. A convict and a half-blind old man so crippled from his years rodeoing and breaking horses he could barely climb into the saddle. Just what Raney needed to make her dream of raising championship horses into a reality. “You’ve already hired him, haven’t you? Without even talking to me. I thought I was supposed to be running the ranch.” Raney could barely keep her voice steady.
Mama heard it and gave her that weary let’s be reasonable smile. “You are, darling. But I’m the majority holder in the trust. Let’s give him until the fall Futurity, then we’ll reevaluate. If you’re still opposed, you can fire him. How’s that?”
Feeling the reins slipping from her grip, Raney tipped her head back and watched the ceiling fan spin lazy circles overhead. It was probably a good thing that Mama would be leaving soon.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Raney overslept. Not surprising, since she’d been awake most of the night trying to figure a way to get rid of Dalton Cardwell.
It wasn’t personal. The man might have served his time, but he was still a convicted criminal. Not the kind of worker she wanted representing the ranch on the show circuit. Whitcomb Four Star was a top-run outfit with a reputation for integrity and unquestionable honesty. Hiring felons didn’t fit with that image. And who knows what other dangerous types might show up once word got around that she was hiring ex-cons.
Forgoing a shower, she quickly tossed on the clothes she’d left on the chair the night before, finger-combed her hair and stuffed it under a ball cap, then raced downstairs.
The kitchen was empty. Mama never came down before ten. Maria had left Raney’s usual breakfast on the counter—a chocolate protein drink, a granola bar, and a piece of fruit—this time, a plum. Raney chugged the drink and was starting on the granola bar when she looked out the kitchen window and saw a dark blue pickup parked by the barn.
Shit.
Tossing the half-eaten granola bar onto the counter beside the plum, she slammed out the back door and headed to the barn.
Raney felt bad about what Dalton Cardwell had been through—even if he deserved it—and wasn’t looking forward to turning him out. But Mama had no right to hire him in the first place. She’d tell him sorry, they weren’t hiring right now, and send him on his way. Hopefully he’d be long gone before Mama woke up. Cowardly, maybe. But confrontations with Mama always ended badly for Raney.
Following the sound of a horse whinnying, Raney tracked Dalton Cardwell and Alejandro to the arena behind the barn. They were leaning against the railing, watching Rosco trot around, snorting and whinnying at the other horses in nearby paddocks. Dalton had his head bent to hear what Alejandro was saying. Raney didn’t remember him being so tall. Or so well built. He made Alejandro, who was a foot shorter, look like a kid beside him. She’d seen Dalton ride in a couple of cutting shows after he got out of the army. He’d filled out by then, but was now even bigger. Broader. A man now. Bold and assured. Mama was right: he was definitely not a beanpole. And no longer awkwardly shy, judging by the way he turned to watch her approach. Probably horny after almost two years in prison, Raney thought, growing uncomfortable with the way he continued to stare at her.
Dream on, cowboy.
“Good morning,” she said as she stopped beside them. She gave Dalton a reserved smile. “We never officially met, but I’m—”
“Raney Whitcomb,” he cut in. “I remember. Nice to meet you finally.” He flashed a broad smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Green eyes, with long, dark lashes. She’d never been close enough to him to notice that. Or his smile.