over. “Let me get that, Chester. You shouldn’t be lifting bales of hay.”
Chester stopped him with one look. “I’ve been hauling hay all my life. I’m not going to stop now. And you’re not lifting anything. You shouldn’t even be out of bed with that busted-up head.”
“I’m fine.” Besides a major headache and blurred vision. He grabbed another hay bale and tossed it into the wheel barrel. “I just needed a good night’s sleep.”
“You need more than one night’s sleep. And so does that little gal. She looked plumb exhausted this morning.”
Now that he thought about it, Maisy had looked tired. She hadn’t been nearly as feisty as she usually was. “She took a hard fall. She’s probably pretty banged up.”
“Which is why you need to talk her into staying here a few more days where she has folks to watch out for her.”
That was the last thing Sawyer wanted. Dealing with the memories of her was bad enough. Dealing with the real life woman was pure torture. Especially in a thin t-shirt that didn’t disguise the fact she was braless. He hadn’t been able to keep his gaze from the boob that wasn’t covered by the sling and the nipple poking through the cotton. He didn’t want to look at it every morning.
“She has friends in town who will watch out for her,” he said.
Chester glanced at him. “And you’re not her friend?”
Maisy’s words came back to haunt him. Friends with benefits. Heat speared through him—just as it had when she’d said the words. It pissed him off that his body was so eager to get back in bed with her after the scare he’d had.
A loud bang had both Sawyer and Chester looking at the stalls.
“That would be the horse you found,” Chester said. “He seems to be feeling much better now that he’s had food and rest. He wouldn’t even let me go in the stall this morning. Of course, he has reason to be fearful and a little ticked off after what he’s been through.” He shook his head. “If I ever meet his owner, I’m going to fill his butt full of buckshot.”
Sawyer understood how Chester felt. He was still upset over the condition of the horse. But the horse wasn’t theirs. “If the owner does show up, you need to keep your thoughts to yourself and your gun in the safe.”
“You aren’t going to let that horse go back to its owner, are you? I thought better of you, boy.”
“I’m not going to be arrested for being a horse thief. I’ll give Lincoln a call and let him know what’s going on. He’ll know how to handle this. And we probably should call the vet and see if he can come out and take a look at the horse.”
Chester snorted. “It won’t do no good to call that incompetent fool of a vet. He doesn’t know a horse’s ass from a hole in the ground.”
“I thought you liked the old guy that used to come out here to check on the livestock.”
“I did like Roy Miles. But he up and retired and some city slicker took his place who acts terrified of anything bigger than a herding dog.”
Sawyer laughed. “I’m sure he’ll get better with time. But for now, I’ll see if I can’t sweet talk Angel into letting me tend his wounds.”
Chester was right. The horse was feeling his oats this morning. As soon as Sawyer approached the stall, the stallion whinnied a warning and kicked the back wall. Sawyer kept his distance and spoke softly.
“Good mornin’, Angel. I hear you’re being ornery today.” The horse snorted as if answering in the affirmative. Sawyer grinned. “That’s okay. I understand ornery. Sometimes you just have to get out your frustrations.” He scooped up a handful of oats out of a bag and moved a step closer. “And I figure you have a lot to be frustrated about, don’t you, boy? You probably don’t understand why life has treated you so badly. But life is like that.” He slid up the latch on the gate. “Some folks seem to have all the luck while others don’t seem to have any.”
He continued to talk in a soothing voice as he opened the gate and slipped into the stall. “The only thing I can tell you is that luck changes. And yours just did. Yesterday you were in hell, but today, you’re pretty much in heaven.” He held out the handful of oats. But Angel wanted nothing