Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
He shrugs, lifting his hands. “He just wouldn’t run. He’s a dreamer. Too interested in his own horse thoughts or staring at the clouds.”
I pull back and look at him. “Really? Even with his dad being some super champion?”
Xavier keeps walking. “The mare had good racing bloodlines, too. No explanation for it. The family that invested so much in it tried everything from expensive trainers to medicine men. Finally sold him off to try to recoup some of their losses.” Xavier’s expression sours, the furrow between his brow deepening, which causes the burned half of his face to take on a menacing appearance. “That’s when things got bad for my boy.”
He comes to another paddock where two horses graze in the distance, a honey-colored one and another that’s a darker brown. He leans his elbows on the fence so that he’s in profile, the good side of his face toward me.
“His owners didn’t pay close enough attention to who they sold him off to. The new owners were bastards who thought they knew better than all the professionals. They tried to force him to race by whipping and abusing him, shooting him full of illegal steroids. They got a few off-circuit races out of him, but he was uncontrollable and more hazard than he was worth. He was found crazed and half-starved when the DEA raided a stable yard in Arizona. They were about to put him down when I offered to pasture him here.”
All of this has just come in a long stream while he stands, arms on the fence, looking out at the pasture and the grazing horses. He’s just suddenly opened up like a font of information. I’m not sure if that’s more shocking or the implications of all he’s saying.
“So…” I put together the bits and pieces he’s told me as I look over my shoulder and then scan the few outbuildings and paddocks all around us. Apart from the first separated paddock where Samson was isolated, they all create a loose hexagon shape. “You basically run this place to take care of old or abused horses. This is a horse rescue.”
I have to blink a couple times as the concept sinks in.
He doesn’t so much as twitch at my pronouncement. “Close your mouth,” he finally murmurs. “You’ll catch a fly.”
Then he starts forward again, delivering one sharp jerk on the rope to signal me to follow, as always.
Like I could frigging forget.
Yeah, he’s really got a heart of gold. The rescuer of all the poor, needy animals who also just happens to like keeping women tied on a leash like a dog. Right. Pardon while I go get a hanky for the touching scene.
I’m surprised when he actually opens the gate to the pasture. We haven’t gone up close to any of the horses except those in the stable who were securely closed up behind stall doors. But he’s just heading straight in, no buffer at all between us and the horses.
Um, hello? Doesn’t he remember lesson one? Two thousand pounds and all that?
“These are two of my gentlest, both mares,” he says, apparently not worried in the slightest. He explained earlier the difference between mares—females, geldings, and stallions. Geldings and stallions are males, but geldings have been castrated. I’ve been learning all kinds of fun facts like that all morning.
Xavier pauses to close the gate behind us. “Hot Lips is pregnant, though, so if she shies away from you, we won’t press it. But Sugar is the gentlest on the ranch. Some more basics. Always approach a horse from the front left shoulder and make sure to let them get a look at you before coming close. Never come at a horse from behind or when he’s agitated.” This last part he says sharply, looking me in the eye.
I raise my hands. “Got it. Don’t come up behind a horse.”
“Which side do you approach from?” he quizzes.
“Left shoulder.” Geez, he just told me two seconds ago.
“Good, and only after you’re sure they’ve seen you. Above all, horses can sense your mood. If you’re tense, they go tense. Breathe and be calm. The more you project calm and serene, the more the horse will respond to you.”
With that, he turns on his heel and starts across the field. Not wanting him to tug on the damn rope, I hurry on his heels. He locks the gate behind us and then we’re off across the uneven ground of the paddock. It’s full of divots and—oh yep, that’s a giant horse pie. I dodge out of the way and then jog to keep up before the line between us pulls taut.
He approaches the two mares with a carrot extended in each hand. We only go halfway through the paddock before the interested horses amble toward us.
These two aren’t frenzied like Lulu, though they too nuzzle Xavier first thing. Their huge, sloppy muzzles come for his carrots, exposing large horsey teeth.