Page 7 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)

I ’m sitting in my office, surrounded by vet bills and feed invoices, when the door swings open.

Holland raps his knuckles on the frame as I flip through the paperwork spread across my desk.

The late afternoon sun beams in behind him, casting long streaks of light across the floor and illuminating the dust dancing in the air like ash.

I don’t look up immediately; I wait until he clears his throat and says, “Come have a drink with me. I have someone I want you to meet.”

I set the papers aside and lean back in the creaky desk chair, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m a little busy here. Can it wait?”

“Not unless you want to miss a golden opportunity to understand what you’re really up against.”

That gets my attention. I push up from the chair and follow him out to the porch of the main house.

The breeze hits me like a balm—dry, cold, laced with the faintest tang of hay and horses.

A battered Ford Bronco idles in the gravel driveway.

Leaning against it, arms crossed over a faded button-down flannel, is a man I recognize.

Giles Godwin. Head horse trainer over at Wildhaven Storm Ranch. The man’s built like a linebacker but looks like an old cowboy who’s spent too many years in the sun and doesn’t give a damn about appearances. However, his eyes are keen and sharp.

“Giles,” Holland says, gesturing between us. “Caison Galloway. Caison, Giles Godwin.”

We shake hands. His grip’s firm, calloused, and he looks at me like he’s sizing me up in the same way he’d inspect a new thoroughbred—assessing my stance, my posture, the state of my boots. I nod. He gives the kind of nod that says he doesn’t know what he thinks of me yet, but he’s willing to talk.

Holland leads us to the seating area on the porch, sun on our backs, while he excuses himself to go help Priscilla with our drinks. Giles doesn’t waste time.

“Holland tells me you’re interested in buying a piece of Wildhaven Storm’s land,” he starts, voice low and measured. “Figured you should hear the big picture before Matty sends you packing.”

I wait. Let him keep going.

“You’ve seen the fences. They’re holding up, but barely.

Some of them have been patched with baling twine and good intentions.

” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Last year, we lost a batch of horses to thieves. They came in in the middle of the night like ghosts. We had no idea until the following morning. They got away with a dozen head—half a dozen basic riding horses, four breeding thoroughbreds, and some trained performance horses. That hit us hard. Matty had to scramble. It was a mess of returning stud deposits and paying off owners. Once word got out, boarders, concerned about our security, started moving their horses. I’d estimate the loss at around three-quarters of a million dollars.

Matty called the sheriff, but there wasn’t much they could do, and the ranch didn’t have any money to put into an independent investigation. ”

My jaw tightens. I’ve heard stories like that before, but they always feel like something out of the past—like Old West outlaws stealing horses—not something happening right down the road.

“After that,” Giles continues, “we faced several financial setbacks as a result. The loss of income was the biggest blow. We relied on those stud fees from breeding and monthly boarding fees. We had to replace the horses used for ranch work and riding lessons. This meant covering the costs of purchasing new horses, along with transportation fees, training time, and the added security measures we needed—cameras, reinforced fencing, frequent patrols. It all added up. The insurance company covered only a fraction of it and then doubled our premiums afterward. So, we had to make cuts—hard cuts. We let go of a few ranch hands, including both of my training assistants. Now it’s just me and Charli. ”

“Charli Storm?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah. She’s a good kid. Got talent—I’ll give her that.

She has a natural feel for horses, sharp eye for confirmation and gait.

But she’s green—fresh outta college with no real experience.

And not a damn thing in her training prepared her for dealing with colts fresh off the trailer from Kentucky. ”

“Still,” I say, “she must be holding her own if you’re keeping her on.”

Giles chuckles, a low, rough sound. “She’s family.

And, yeah, she’s doing her best. But I’m not getting the opportunity to train horses the way I want to anymore.

I feel like I’m babysitting half the time and just trying to keep the place from falling apart the other half.

Hell, we let two of our most reliable hands go just this morning. ”

I nod slowly, trying to picture it. I’ve only really spoken to Maitland, but I’ve heard plenty through the grapevine in town. The Storm girls—they’re tough, proud, and stubborn as mules.

Giles scrapes a hand over his jaw. “Matty’s running herself into the ground.

She’s been doing the books, managing the crews, working horses when I need an extra hand.

Hell, she’s even mending fences and fixing irrigation valves in the middle of the night.

She’s had to take on everything. She’s thought about hiring someone to help with the admin work, but there’s just no money for it.

The ranch is running threadbare and could go under at any moment if something doesn’t give and quick. ”

“What about the bank? Can’t they loan the ranch some money to help with the cash flow issue?” I ask.

“Matty applied for another loan this spring, but she was denied. Too much debt on the books, not enough projected income.” He sighs, deep and weary.

“Right now, we’re floating by on stud fees for our one remaining thoroughbred and whatever boarding fees are still coming in from the stable. But it’s lean. Real lean.”

“What about the cattle?”

He scoffs. “I’m not well-versed when it comes to livestock.

But I do know the cattle herd at Wildhaven Storm has always been an afterthought.

A hobby for Albert’s father, Earl. It’s too small to bring in any real cash at auction.

Albert’s a horse rancher. And so is Matty.

She loves that ranch, and she loves horses.

She has grandiose plans for the place. But I fear they’re unrealistic at this point. ”

I shift in my chair. “That’s why she’s so hell-bent on not letting go of anything. Even land she’s not using.”

“She sees that dirt as the Storm family legacy,” Giles says.

“Every fence post was put in by her father or grandfather. Maybe even her great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather too. That means something to her. Matty’s the kind of woman who’d work herself to the bone and go belly up rather than sell off a single acre of her family’s land. ”

I get that. Maybe more than I want to admit.

“But Harleigh,” Giles continues, “she’s been on Matty about turning that acreage you’ve got your eye on into a guest ranch.

Wants to set up cabins, hire a few guides, run trail rides, maybe even do some horsemanship clinics.

Hell, she’s even tossed out the idea of a swanky spa. ” He laughs at the thought.

“Harleigh? I don’t think we’ve met,” I say.

“She’s the youngest. She’s still in school at the University of Wyoming, studying business and hospitality. She’s a smart kid and says if Matty will give it a chance, she’ll come home to run the whole thing once she graduates.”

“That would bring in some cash,” I admit.

“Sure would,” Giles says. “But Matty wants nothing to do with it. Says she doesn’t want a bunch of tourists turning Wildhaven Storm into a dude ranch.

She wants it to stay what it’s always been.

Working land. Breeding and boarding, raising quality livestock.

Not some Instagrammable vacation spot for rich, spoiled folks. ”

I nod again, but this time more slowly. The issue with pride is that it can be a double-edged sword. While it can keep you grounded, it can also limit you and prevent you from adapting when the world changes around you and you need to change with it.

“I care about those girls,” Giles says quietly.

“They’ve been through a lot. I’ve been with the family since before they lost Miriam.

I watched ’em grow up. I’d do damn near anything for them.

But I’m not a Storm. And at some point, I’ve gotta think about myself and my family too.

I’m forty years old. I want to be training real contenders—Triple Crown hopefuls, not just well-bred geldings for the rodeo circuit. ”

He says it with no bitterness. Just raw truth.

“Matty’s not gonna ask for help,” he adds. “And she sure as hell won’t stand for pity. So, if you’re thinking about buying that land—if you really want it—you’d better figure out a way to make it look like a win for her. Not for you. You understand what I’m saying?”

I allow that statement to linger between us. The porch creaks as Priscilla appears with a tray of iced teas. Somewhere in the paddocks, a horse whinnies, sharp and high-pitched, as if he’s impatient for his supper. I glance up at Priscilla and thank her before focusing back on Giles.

“I don’t want to take anything from Maitland or her family,” I say finally.

“But I do want to build something here. I’ve got horses coming in that need the space.

I need another arena, a big one, if Ironhorse is gonna keep up with the kind of business I’m trying to bring in.

This could be a golden opportunity for all involved. ”

Giles glances sideways at me. “Holland told me you’re planning to run a state-of-the-art racing operation out of Ironhorse?”

“Eventually,” I say. “Start small, but yeah. We’ve got the bloodlines and some major investors. Just need the right setup and the right people.”

He gives me a long look. “I hope you’re thinking I’m one of those people.”

I hold his gaze just as Holland walks out and takes a seat beside me.

“We do. You want a spot here—training for a ranch that’s going all in on performance horses—you have it,” he tells the man.

Giles laughs under his breath. “You know that’s exactly what I want, or I wouldn’t be here, giving you all this information on my girls.”

More like selling them out.

He stands and dusts his jeans off. “Look, I’d better get back before I’m missed,” he says to Holland, then brings his eyes to me.

“I don’t know what kind of terms you’ve floated Matty’s way, but if you want her to even consider it, you’d better come with more than a checkbook.

She’s not driven by money. Even when the damn girl needs it and in a hurry.

You need to come at her like you want to be partners, not poachers. ”

“Bullshit. We aren’t interested in a partnership,” Holland barks.

Giles turns his attention to him. “I understand that. However, she needs to believe it’s a possibility. Once the deal is done, you can find a creative way to exclude her. Surely, you all can manage that. She’s just a simple country girl, and you’re the big, bad, powerful wolves after all.”

That’s not what I’m trying to be.

He extends a hand, and Holland shakes it.

With that, he climbs back into his truck, slams the door, and pulls out, tires kicking up a small cloud of dust. I watch him go, the conversation turning over in my head .

I glance over at Holland, who leans back in the chair, sipping from a sweating mason jar full of sweet tea.

“So?” he says.

“So,” I repeat. “Seems they’re in worse shape than we thought.”

He nods. “Yep.”

“And she’s gonna fight me at every turn.”

“Also yep. But she’s not the only one who gets a say.

Perhaps you need to focus on Albert. Matty may be running the show, but he’s still the owner.

Talk to him. Make him see that if he doesn’t sell to us, the bank is going to take the land anyway, and he’s gonna leave this earth with nothing to pass down to his girls.

Convince him that he doesn’t have to lose everything in order to win. ”

I scrub a hand over my face. “It’s not gonna be easy to go over Maitland’s head.”

Holland smiles. “I didn’t say it was going to be.”

“I’ll call Albert.”

“Now you’re thinking like a Ludlow.”

I let that hang in the air for a second. Then I square my shoulders and head back into the office. There’s a deal to make, and it won’t be forged over heated discussions and pushy power plays. It’ll take something harder to draw up—trust.

And patience.

Which, God help me, if Maitland Storm finds out that I’m trying to bypass her authority, it could create serious problems. I need to both keep pursuing her while working on Albert.

My hope is that by appealing to Albert’s emotions, I can win him over to my side, and he’ll help me convince Maitland that my proposal will be a win for Wildhaven Storm, just as Giles suggested.