Page 7 of Rekindling Little River (Littles of Rawhide Ranch #14)

Dave

River had been hard to locate that morning.

They hadn’t been in any of the public areas.

The only thing Dave could think was that they’d gone to the Littles’ Wing.

He couldn’t follow them there, which frustrated him to no end.

How was he going to capture their heart if he couldn’t spend time with them?

He considered waiting at the entrance to the wing but decided that it might make him seem a bit like a stalker.

He didn’t want to scare River away. So, he spent the morning doing something he knew was assured to keep his stress levels down.

The Rawhide Ranch stables were impressive.

For Dave, that was saying something. He’d seen many stables from all over the country back in the day.

None of them compared to the setup Dave found himself stepping into.

Hard-packed dirt formed the floor of the stables.

There was hay scattered about in the aisle, evidence of a ranch hand’s work.

The building itself was massive, housing at least twenty stalls, the majority of which were occupied.

The stalls showed no signs of disrepair, obviously being well maintained.

Almost every stable Dave had ever been in that wasn’t brand spanking new showed its age in some fashion, but as he looked around him, he couldn’t find a single rusted fixture or weathered board, and paint was upkept exceptionally well.

It was beyond obvious that the people in charge of these stables cared about more than what the animals who resided there could do for the Ranch.

They cared deeply for the animals themselves and that increased Dave’s respect for this establishment immensely.

Dave took in the familiar scents of hay, dirt, and manure, grazing his hand over stall doors as he made his way down the aisle. He looked up and found plaques above the stalls reading silently as he went.

Peanut, Snickers, Starling, Magic, Thunder, Atlas…

Yeah, these horses were well loved. He wondered if any of them knew how lucky they were to be where they were, and honestly hoped the answer was no. To know how lucky they were, they’d have to have once been unlucky and Dave couldn’t handle the thought of any animal going through hell.

“Can I help you?”

Dave just barely managed not to jump at the sudden voice when he’d convinced himself he was alone.

Turning, he found himself face to face with a man holding a pitchfork.

The creases at the corners of his eyes spoke to his penchant for smiling, brown hair meticulously styled said he was the orderly sort while the gray at his temples said he was practical and genuine.

Dave offered the stranger a hand. “Hi, I’m Dave. I just came out to spend some time with the horses.”

“Arlo,” the man replied, shifting the pitchfork to his other hand and gripping Dave’s palm in a firm shake. “Were you wanting to schedule a ride?”

“Actually,” Dave figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. “You wouldn’t happen to need help would you? Nothing clears the mind like mucking a stall.”

“Well now, I’m not sure…” Whatever Arlo had been about to say he must have rethought it, because the next thing Dave knew, he was being led to the supply room. “I know of one thing to clear a mind better than mucking. How are you with grooming?”

“Arlo, I do believe you’ve just become my best friend.”

Arlo’s laugh rang through the stables as he plucked a curry comb from where it was resting and led Dave to a stall with a plaque proclaiming the occupant as Hercules.

As he opened the stall door, Arlo informed Dave, “Hercules has a calm soothing temperament. When I’m having trouble calming my mind or working through a problem, spending time with him helps. ”

The dappled-gray Clydesdale inside the stall took Dave’s breath away.

He was obviously older, his eyes held a wealth of understanding, and Arlo was right, Hercules exuded calm.

Dave reached out a hand to the horse, allowing him to become acquainted before stepping into the stall and running a hand over Hercules’ mane.

“What do you say, buddy?” he murmured to the animal. “Want to help me work out my problems?”

Hercules’ gentle huff was the perfect response, so Dave set about combing the gentle giant.

He couldn’t say that Hercules had given him any great insight into how to win the heart of a skittish Little, but he had helped Dave work up an appetite.

As Dave made his way into the Italian restaurant at lunchtime, his stomach rumbled.

Thankfully, he was seated quickly, and it didn’t take long for him to decide what he wanted to eat.

It was as he waited for his food that he heard their voice.

River. He was about to get up and see if he could sit with them when he realized there was already someone else sitting at their table.

He settled back in his seat and tried not to listen, but there was a sadness in River’s tone that made his ears perk up and take notice.

He felt like the worst kind of heel as he heard them talk about losing their Little, and his heart ached as he heard them talk about being too much. He wanted to jump up from his seat and disabuse River of the notion they were anything less than perfect .

He lost track of the conversation for a minute as his food was delivered, but that was okay.

He’d heard what he needed to. He wasn’t going to stand by and let River continue to believe that about themself.

He hoped they were ready because it was time to take off the kid gloves.

Dave was done playing around. He was coming for them.