She glanced between Matt and the giant horse and smiled. “A big one.”
Matt grinned back. “Can we check him out?”
“Let’s do it.”
The Percheron followed Matt out of the pen, as eager as a puppy. Luckily, he was wearing a halter, because the one Bree had brought wasn’t big enough for his ginormous head. One by one, Bree lifted his dinner-plate-size feet. He stood quietly as she ran her hands over his body and legs, looking for sore spots. Like his pal, he was a little underweight but not drastically. The gash worried her. “He’s favoring that leg. I can’t really assess his soundness.”
Matt ran a hand across collar marks at the base of the muscular neck. “He’s worked hard.”
“He has.”
“Interest in that one, Sheriff?” a shaky voice asked.
Bree turned to see a wiry old man in a heavy canvas coat and work boots approaching. He looked like he’d walked out of a Louis L’Amour novel.
“Maybe.” She pointed at the Standardbred. “We’re also thinking about that gelding. Do you know anything about either of them?”
“I do.” The old man held out a hand. “I’m Stanley Dutt. I work here.”
Bree gave his arthritic hand a gentle shake and introduced Matt.
“They came from the Abrams farm. Old Josiah died about a month ago. His son doesn’t want to take over the farm, so he’s selling everything.” Dutt shook his head. “Anyway, those are two nice animals. They have a bit of wear on them, but they’re both still willing to work. The Standardbred was a solid buggy horse.” He reached forward and gave the Percheron a nose rub. “This big guy looks intimidating, but Josiah’s grandkids used to run under his belly and pile on him bareback, not that I’m advocating such behavior. Just saying the horse isn’t spooky or shy. He can’t get enough attention.”
“Thanks for the information.” Bree turned back to the horse. Now was the time to test the old man’s story. “Boost me up.”
“OK.” Matt gave her a leg up.
Bree felt like a child on the broadback. In deference to the horse’s leg injury, she simply walked him a few paces down the aisle. She neck-reined with the lead rope and turned him around like a bus in a tight parking lot. She brought him back to Matt. “He acts like a gentleman.”
“Of course he does.” Dutt pulled a can of chewing tobacco from his back pocket and stuck a pinch between his cheek and gum.
“Good thing.” Matt grinned. “He must weigh close to two thousand pounds.”
“You really want him?” Bree asked.
“I do.” Matt put the Percheron back in the pen. “Can I board him at your place?”
“Of course. You’re there almost every day anyway.”
His grin widened. “I am.”
“Then let’s go buy some horses.”
“I’m glad.” Dutt spit in the dirt. “I was worried for them.” He turned away. “Good luck to you.”
“Do you know their names?” Bree called to him.
“They deserve new names for their new lives, don’t cha think?” he answered over his shoulder.
Bree picked up the Standardbred at a reasonable price. But the kill buyer was very interested in the Percheron, and Matt had to bid over the going price per pound. Still, a short time later, they completed the paperwork and walked the two horses through the parking lot.
“I only prepped to bring one horse home.” She offered both horses a drink from the single bucket. “They’ll have to share the hay net.”
“They’ll be fine.” Matt relocated the net to the trailer’s divider so the animals could share their snack. “It’s a short drive.”
The animals both loaded with no hesitation. Though the Percheron had to duck his head a little, he did so willingly.
Matt slid behind the wheel of the farm pickup truck. “This is nice.”
“It is.” She stepped back, allowing him to close the vehicle door.
He lowered the window. “I know we’ve only been together for a short time, but everything about this”—Matt waved in the general direction of the trailer hitched behind the truck—“feels right.”
Like they were building something together—something that still had plenty of room to grow. The feeling filled Bree with warmth, like standing in a patch of sun on a clear winter day.
She stepped up on the running board and kissed him through the open window. “I agree.”
Matt kissed her back. “Let’s take our new babies home and get them settled in.”
“The kids are going to be so excited.” And Bree was looking forward to sharing their joy. Nothing gave her pleasure like seeing them happy. “Maybe some animals in need of TLC will help the kids get through Christmas.”
“That’s going to be hard for all of you, the first without Erin.”
“It will.” Bree glanced back at the trailer. Could she make it easier, or was rebounding grief a part of the healing process they needed to work through? She wished for the former but suspected she’d have to accept the latter. “Kayla will want to name them both.”
Matt laughed and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That big boy doesn’t look like a Pumpkin,” he said, referring to Kayla’s own little horse. “Or a Disney character.”
“Ha! Good luck with that.” She couldn’t wait to watch Matt field hundreds of name suggestions from an enthusiastic and persistent eight-year-old.
Bree returned to her own vehicle and followed the horse trailer out of the lot. A half hour later, they parked at the farm. Contentment bloomed inside her. Who would have thought she would enjoy such domesticity?
She jumped from the SUV and opened the barn doors. Pumpkin, Riot, and Cowboy stood at the pasture gate, curious about the newcomers. “Give me a few minutes to prep another stall.”
She raked the dirt, spread fresh straw, and filled a water bucket. Back outside, she spotted Dana and the kids emerging from the house. School had been a half day for some administrative reason. Bree couldn’t keep track. Dana sported a bright blue hat over her short and shaggy blonde-and-gray hair. Luke wore a grin as wide as his face. Kayla bolted from the porch steps with an excited squeal.
Luke caught his little sister by the hood. “Easy. They’re new. Let’s not spook them.”
“OK.” Kayla slowed to a deliberate walk.
Dana shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her down parka. “Did you get one?”
“We got two.” Matt lowered the ramp at the rear of the trailer, then opened the side door. He backed the Standardbred down the ramp. “This guy is for Adam.”
Dana reached out to give his neck a pat. “He’s sweet.”
“I love him!” Kayla clamped her hands under her chin, prayer-style.
Bree took the brown horse’s lead rope. The kids came over to pet him. The horse dropped his head and sniffed their pockets. She suspected his former owner’s grandkids had brought him treats.
Matt backed the Percheron out of the trailer.
“Holy hell—cow,” corrected Dana. “He’s a tank.”
“He’s my tank.” Matt rubbed behind the draft horse’s ear. When he stopped, the Percheron gave him a gentle nudge, as if asking for more pets.