Hott and Handled (The Hott Brothers #3) - Leah Sharelle Page 0,21
better knowing that Farron knew I was available to her whenever she needed.
Thankfully I had pre-empted Blake’s first demand before her telling me this morning, taking Princess to check the water troughs and feed bins around the property, then did a quick ride to the valley to see if the mob were okay. They returned to their favourite grazing area a month after the calamity of the rough-riders. And while I hadn’t see them, I did notice evidence that they had been there in the last few days. Fresh horse manure and multiple hoof marks were on the ground, proving that they were happy and comfortable again.
Letting myself into the large arena, Hercules heard my entry and turned his big head to look at me, his loud whinny letting me know he wasn’t happy he’d had to wait so long for attention.
“Sorry bud, I only have two hands mate, and can only be in one place at a time,” I crooned, walking up to him, clipping the hinged clip to his head halter and giving him a hearty rub under his mane.
Hercules was a trick horse, Blake worked him in a specific way, and I usually followed the same routine she set down for him. Still, with Farron hopefully arriving soon, I was almost tempted to give the big horse a shortened version of his exercise time. However, the horse lover in me couldn’t be that selfish. Hercules had a problem with other horses, much like Lancelot, which meant he spent most of his time in the arena or in a small fenced off grassed paddock behind the stables. He looked forward to his human time, and it wasn’t in me to short change him.
“Okay big fella, let’s get you moving, shall we?” Clicking my tongue, I urged him into a slow trot, using the same noises Blake used. Giving him a longer length of the lunge line, I moved into the middle of the circle and let Hercules do what came naturally to him—intermittently changing the clicks with whistles to speed him up or make him turn around and change his direction. If I had more time, I would go saddle him up and perform some tricks, but as it was, I was running a race against the clock. Not that I thought Farron wouldn’t be interested, it was more Dillion that worried me.
Teenage boys I knew well, after all, I used to be one. But being from the city for most of his life, Dillion might not be as enthralled with watching a horse run around in a circle like me. Farron mentioned he loved to ride dirt bikes, which was a good thing considering the farm owned a dozen of them. We wouldn’t be riding them anywhere near the horses, but I was pretty sure Dillion would enjoy the homemade track and jumps my brothers and I carved out in a paddock not far from where my house stood.
With my attention on Hercules and my ears perked for any sound of a car, I lost myself in the beauty of watching the horse exercise. There was something magical about the equine breed: their powerful flanks, the rippling muscles with each movement of their deceiving spindly legs. Growing up on the Triple H, I learned to respect all animals, no matter if it is equine or bovine. My speciality laid with the cattle, but my love of the horse was deep and pure.
My first horse, my beloved Camelot, had been mine when he was just a colt. Blake’s dad broke him for me and for years he was the only horse I rode. He saw me through my darkest, loneliest and sickest days, understanding when I had not been able to ride him and happy to be lead around instead. We took a lot of walks together during those times, just he and I walking the valley for hours silently. Camelot passed away a few years ago, and I was yet to replace him. It didn’t feel right taking on another horse as just mine, so I chose to rotate the horses I rode each day. Sometimes taking Princess, Herc or one of the many other stock horses on the property. Maybe one day, I would be ready, just not yet.
The squealing sound of a fan belt on its way out had me looking over my shoulder to see Farron’s double cab pulling up to the stables. Mentally I noted the repair and was already making arrangements in