There was excitement in the light touch she placed on Beth’s arm. “Wait here. It’ll just take a few minutes.”
“You don’t need to do anything. Really.”
“We do, we do. Give us five.”
Five minutes was nothing to ask. The vet wouldn’t arrive for forty-five at least.
Beth opened the tailgate and sat under the bright moon while she waited. Phil had carried the silver-clad saddle back through the stables to his own truck on the other side, and already she was having second thoughts about whether offering that up had been the right thing to do. She was disappointed in herself for not bringing it up to Jacob. And she could think of a dozen things that silver might have paid for at her very own ranch. Why hadn’t she considered any of them in the hour between Phil’s concerned phone call and her brilliant idea to foot Marigold’s bill?
Because her idea had been inspired. Two hours ago she had no doubt that it was exactly what she ought to do. Beth sent her memory in search of that certainty so that she could hold on to it more firmly this time.
“It’s not your right to do it,” Jacob said, loud and close, and Beth jerked out of her reverie, expecting to see him standing beside the truck. Instead she found Fiona. The girl seized Beth’s wrist and yanked her right off the tailgate, then tugged her back into the bright stables.
Phil was grinning at her, standing in the alley next to the tallest, glossiest, most beautiful Thoroughbred horse Beth had ever seen. She felt her lips form an O as admiration filled her next breath.
“What d’ya think?” he said.
Beth’s sigh was awed and contented at the same time. “He’s amazing,” she breathed.
“Beth, meet Java Java Go Joe. Joe, meet Beth.”
The horse’s name was appropriate, considering the sheen of his coat, an oily dark-roasted coffee bean. The stud’s track record at the races and in siring winners had lived up to the moniker too.
“Your reputation precedes you, sire,” Beth said. The stallion before her, the Kandinskys’ guest, was more than seventeen hands high and glistening, majestic. His lean legs made up most of the size difference between him and the ranch horses. Her father’s geldings, including Hastings, averaged fourteen to fifteen hands. Those sturdy beasts saved many a cowboy’s head while driving cattle through the forested mountains, where low-hanging tree limbs could steal hats and dent foreheads.
Her father objected to Thoroughbreds on the ranch. “They’re too tall, too fast, and they don’t have good cow sense,” he always said. Beth knew a couple of ranchers who didn’t seem to mind these shortcomings in their own horses, but her father was immovable.
It took Beth a long time to notice that Joe was saddled and ready to ride.
“No,” her mouth said, while her heart cried yes.
Phil gestured to the blocks at Joe’s side. “A small gesture of our appreciation,” he said.
Beth stroked the animal’s neck, and his muscles flickered under the skin. He seemed peaceful, easygoing, as if getting dressed out at this hour were an everyday thing.
“I shouldn’t. I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” Phil said.
“He’s not even Mr. Kandinsky’s.”
“He’s still family.”
Beth shook her head. “It’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong with giving a champion like him any excuse to relive the glory days? He’s retired, you know. He resents that they only love him for his stud fees anymore. He told me so. But I said you’d love him for all the right reasons.”
Beth laughed and found herself standing on the blocks.
“I guessed at your stirrup length,” he said.
“Then we should see how good at guesswork you are,” she said, and she was astride Joe’s strong back before she could decide not to be. Her adrenaline kicked in. Beth felt him shift, evaluating her size and weight. She inserted her feet in the stirrups. Phil’s estimate was perfect.
“Ten minutes,” Phil urged. “No harm, no foul. In the three days he’s been here he’s blazed a trail all his own around the center pasture. Let him show you around. I guarantee you’ve never been on anything like him.”
“I’ve never been thanked for terrible news quite like this before.”
“It’s not for that. It’s for the saddle. Duh,” Fiona said kindly.
On her perch, Beth towered over the pair. Taking the horse out to the pasture at this hour was a risky and maybe even stupid idea. And yet their upturned faces held so much expectancy. It seemed wrong to deny them. And she had often dreamed of riding a horse