The Rancher's Texas Twins & Claiming Her Cowboy by Allie Pleiter

Author:Allie Pleiter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-10-21T12:56:06+00:00

Chapter Three

Jack checked his watch as he tugged his shirttail free from his jeans. He’d made it through day one and would be off duty soon. All he had to do was get his final chore assignment of the day completed. Then he’d be on his way to T-town, a little shopping and a nice steak. Free until the alarm sounded tomorrow at 5:00 a.m.

He pulled the paper Lucy had given him from his pocket and checked the dates. No chicken assignment until after the trail ride and camping trip were complete. If things went in his favor, Mrs. Carmody would release all the birds before then. He’d even pay the bird to stage a coop-break.

For a moment, he simply smiled, thinking about the whole chicken incident. Lately, women had been getting one over on him left and right. Feathered females included.

At least the goat had cooperated.

He shook his head and turned the paper in his hand over. Stables, straight ahead. Or equestrian center, as Lucy Maxwell called the building. He’d been assigned his own horse. That thought alone made him smile.

It had been a long time since he’d been responsible for a horse. Twenty-five years ago, Aunt Meredith’s horses had been his saving grace. His aunt worked him so hard the summer Daniel died that he didn’t have time to blame himself for his little brother’s death. He’d mucked stalls, fed and exercised a stable full of horses from sunrise until bedtime. Then he fell into a hard sleep, too exhausted for the nightmares.

There was no denying the thrum of excitement that accompanied Jack as he entered the equestrian building. Except for the soft whinny of horses, it was quiet.

Jack smiled. He’d forgotten how good quiet was. The lights were on as he took his time walking down the center of the stables, his left hand reaching out to touch the gates of each stall he passed, like he was a kid again. He let the smells of horse sweat and hay nudge his memories while he searched for the sorrel mare he was about to groom.

Spotless. The boys’ ranch stables were spotless, no strong urine odors to indicate the stalls were anything but clean. A chalkboard on the outside of the very last stall on the left had “Grace” printed in white chalk in a childish scrawl. He looked around and found the tack room, situated next to an office, whose door was shut, lights off. The sign on the door read Tripp Walker, Manager.

The familiar scent of new leather drifted to Jack’s nostrils as he entered the tack room and grabbed supplies. He juggled a currycomb and soft brush in the air and caught them easily. His steps were light as he opened the latch to Grace’s stall.

Jack Harris, in a barn. No one would believe it if they could see him now. He didn’t believe it himself.

The mare shifted and raised her tail. Jack sidestepped, though not fast enough to avoid stepping in steaming and aromatic horse patties.

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