Read Online One Wild Cowboy by CATHY GILLEN THACKER - Free Book Online Page B

with a roof, one without—on either end. From where the horses stood, they could see everything that was going on. Another schooling plus. By the time it got to be their turn, the mustangs knew what to expect. Which again, made it easier for all of them.
    With the ease of someone who had grown up around horses, and loved them dearly, Emily followed Dylan into the paddock. “How invested are you in actually doing the naming?” she asked curiously.
    â€œNot at all.” Focused on the feeding, Dylan tore off leaves of alfalfa and put them just ahead of the trio of horses. Emily followed suit.
    And so they went—dropping, moving on, dropping another two leaves, moving on—until finally the horses were following them.
    Emily kept her voice low and calm. “Does that mean you’ll let me do it?”
    Dylan shrugged and replied before he could think, “If it makes you happy.”
    Emily chuckled in delight. “Oh…so you want me happy now….”
    Dylan rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Clearing his throat, he nodded toward their equine companions. “So back to the stars of the show….”
    Emily regarded them carefully. “The three-year-old should be Ginger. The yearlings, Salt and Pepper.”
    Made sense. Dylan nodded. “I’ll let the interested parties know.” Finished, they stepped out of the paddock. As they strode toward the barn, Emily asked, “Do you have a horse of your own?”
    Dylan slanted her a glance. “What do you think?”
    â€œCan I meet him, too?”
    Women didn’t usually ask him that. But then, Dylan thought, the women he saw usually weren’t interested in horses. “Sure,” he said.
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    E MILY EXPECTED a stallion, from a thoroughbred bloodline. Instead, she found a brown-and-white quarter horse–thoroughbred mix that would likely have ended up who-knows-where had someone not stepped in and seen the potential. The gelding came closer to Emily. He stuck his head over the stall door, lowered his head and sniffed her hair, and then her face. Emily reached up to stroke his face as his warm breath ghosted over her. His eyes were alert but gentle, and she found his presence calming and reassuring. Emily took the apple Dylan handed her and presented it to his horse. “What’s his name?”
    â€œHercules.”
    Able to feel the strength emanating from the horse’s sleekly muscled build, Emily smiled. “It suits him.” And the horse, who was anything but blue-blooded, suited Dylan.
    Dylan offered Hercules a carrot. Hercules took it and luxuriated in a nose rub from Dylan, too.
    Emily’s heart warmed at the overwhelming affection between man and horse. She turned to Dylan. “How long have you been riding?”
    â€œSince I was fifteen.”
    Unable to resist, she prodded a little more. “Did you grow up on a ranch?”
    Once again, she thought, in the silence that followed her question, it was like trying to get information out of a spy sworn to secrecy. Finally, Dylan said, “No. I spent time on one later, and that’s when I learned to ride.”
    â€œAnd realized your calling was horses.”
    â€œMore or less.” He looked at his watch.
    â€œYeah, yeah, I know,” Emily grumbled good-naturedly. “Time’s up. But not before I say goodbye to everyone.” She headed for the paddock situated between the round pens and stood looking at the three mustangs. They were gathered together on the opposite side of the corral, ears moving, nostrils flexing, clearly relaxed.
    Scattered among other paddocks and turnout sheds in the distance were other horses Dylan was working with. They all looked pleasantly settled and enjoying the warm spring night, too. Thinking how much she loved the peace and the tranquility of this ranch, Emily turned back to Dylan and let her enthusiasm be her guide. “When are you going to