Page 3 of Stirring Spurs (Rainbow Ranch #1)

“Currently, we’ve only got ten horses, but there’s room for twelve,” Beau says, opening the doors fully. “Doc Evans, the vet in Johnson Springs, always lets us know of animals needing a home. We take in the strays, and he gives us a deal on vet care. We like to keep space for emergencies.”

As we enter, the horses recognize their chances for attention, food, or both, and let out a few neighs. Beau grabs a bucket of apples hanging near a high window and feeds one to a beautiful mare .

“And they all ride in the rodeo?”

Even as the question exits my lips, I’m eyeing up some of these animals. They look healthy and well-cared for.

“Gosh no,” Beau takes an apple from the bucket. “Only a handful. And the rest, we hope to include… in time. For now, we simply show them. Or not. We leave it up to the horses. Our rodeo is a little bit different.”

My forehead crinkles. If I’m going to ride, make my cash, and vamoose, I need to get a grip on what I’m dealing with.

“How so?”

“Good boy,” he says to a striking black gelding. “This is Jasper. He’s Billie’s horse. Or maybe I should say Billie is his human.”

After only meeting Billie once, Jasper seems like the kind of horse she’d ride—powerful and majestic.

“Billie rides him in the monthly rodeo exhibition,” he continues.

“We shifted to calling it that a few years ago. Rodeos, in general, were getting a lot of heat, and for valid reasons. We aim to be a compassionate ranch. It’s in our charter.

We’re here to rescue and rehabilitate, so our rodeos reflect that. ”

My head tilts as Beau talks, and Jasper sniffs at the apple in his palm.

“We prioritize animal welfare by altering the traditional events. Our goal is always to minimize stress and potential harm to animals and the riders. It’s why we have fewer animals participating.

By prioritizing the well-being of our animals over aggressive displays of dominance, we can maintain the spirit of a rodeo without jeopardizing our animals. ”

I shoot Beau a glance through squinted eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He leans in and softly kisses Jasper’s nose. “Trust me, I’ve heard it before— the woke agenda has finally ruined rodeos . But we find there are much bigger rewards this way. Because we treat our animals with respect, they thrive.”

With my lips pulled in, I nod. When in Rome, and all that bullshit.

A tiny horse, barely up to my thigh, trots over, pushing at Beau’s butt, and even though I try to stifle it, a laugh escapes.

I’ve seen mini horses before, but never one so mini.

He’s dark brown with a few white patches that look like clouds scattered across his miniature body, and he’s clearly in need of an apple or two.

“Okay, Dennis, okay.”

Beau offers an apple, which Dennis snatches, crunches, and then proceeds to pace up and down the barn aisle.

“That’s Dennis. Yep, named that because he’s a menace.

He’s a mini, but don’t let his size fool you—he’s a total handful.

A complete pill, really, always getting into mischief and causing a ruckus wherever he goes.

Despite all his troublemaking, though, he’s become the unofficial mascot of the ranch.

Everyone here knows Dennis by name and adores him. ”

At the sound of his name, Dennis comes trotting over, kicking up a cloud of loose hay as he goes. With a playful snort, he makes a quick turn and bolts straight out the front door.

“Even if he’s a little chaos warrior in disguise.”

“Bet he’s a hit at the rodeo,” I say.

“Oh gosh, yeah.” Beau’s face cracks into a huge smile. Funny, he doesn’t have the dimple like his brother. “He has a way of stealing the spotlight.”

“So, your rodeos, there’s no bull riding?”

Beau shakes his head .

“Steer wrestling?”

“Nope.”

I clasp my hands under my chin. “Roping?”

“Breakaway only,” Beau says with a shrug. “Nobody complains.”

“Especially the calves,” I reply.

This elicits a small chuckle from him.

I’ve seen breakaway roping at events, mostly with younger or female riders. The roper catches the calf but doesn’t tie it. If that’s what I gotta do to stick around and make some quick cash, so be it.

“Do you use spurs?”

“Don’t typically need 'em,” I say.

He gives a knowing nod, recognizing I’m a seasoned rider.

“Billie found some gentle ones we use when needed.”

Whimpers and whinnies from a few other horses interrupt us as Beau pats Jasper’s soft nose, and he chomps the apple.

“May I?” I ask, moving my hand forward.

“Of course.” He rubs his fingers along the bridge of Jasper’s nose. “He loves to be pet right here.”

I follow his lead. With the horse under my touch, Beau takes the bucket of apples and begins feeding the other horses.

“Looks like Benny’s already done the morning muck out before breakfast. He’s up with the rooster.”

“Does everyone take their meals together?” I move my hand away to follow Beau, but Jasper nudges my palm, and I return to petting his velvety muzzle.

“Boone demands it. Unless there are special reasons. Since our parents died, he’s kind of become the mother hen.

” He looks up at me with hazel eyes. “Don’t tell him I called him that.

Ah, never mind, he’d probably love it. He takes care of us,” Beau pats his stomach, “so we can take care of the ranch.”

“And you guys are identical?”

They look alike, but brothers—twins or not—can be like that.

“He’s two inches taller. His hair is shorter, but otherwise…” He moves his face toward me, giving me a good look, and yup, they’re the spitting image of one another. “...identical.”

Beau doesn’t give me the same rocked-to-my-core feeling that his brother does. I guess it’s not just looks, but something else. Something inside. Pop used to say folks have an energy, and I suppose looking the same would have nothing to do with that.

“He’s a good egg, Boone. He’ll make some guy very lucky.”

Guy .

Heat rushes my neck at the thought of Boone Adams with a man.

“Is everyone here…” I hesitate, unsure of the right word.

“Queer?” Beau smiles. “Pretty much. We’re open with the community. Damn, it’s in our name—so we attract folks who want to work in an inclusive place.”

When I first heard about Rainbow Ranch, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I wondered if it had to do with colorful landscapes or if it had a connection to the queer community.

“And all four siblings? That’s got to be some sort of record.”

“Nah. Just sort of happened.” He extends an apple to a smaller mare, whose lips curl and smack. She then nibbles and takes a big chomp. “And you… ”

Don’t talk about myself much like this, but Beau seems so open about it. I take a deep inhale through my nose and speak.

“Yeah. I mean… gay.”

The word feels strange in my mouth. The moment it leaves my lips, I realize I don’t think I’ve ever said it aloud. It’s always been unspoken, leered at. But here, it seems as natural as the wind blowing.

“We accept everyone here. Every letter of the alphabet.” He turns to me, eyeing me up and down. “If you ever get hungry during the day, head into the kitchen. Boone will take care of ya.”

He winks, and my stomach gallops at the thought of his brother. Those thoughts can just mosey along.

Beau approaches the last stall where a large, blood bay gelding stands, head down. He’s got a rich reddish-brown coat like a worn penny with a glossy black mane and tail. Even with his head lowered, there’s no denying he’s the most handsome horse I’ve ever seen.

“Now, this here is Noodles.”

The horse snorts, nostrils flaring wide as he avoids Beau’s hand, which holds a nearly rotten apple.

“Noodles?”

“Yeah, I know. Pepper, one of the teens, named him while cleaning his stall the day after he arrived. He arrived without a name, and they thought he needed something endearing.”

“Okay, but Noodles?”

Beau shrugs and continues. “He came to the ranch from a bad hoarding situation outside of Stillwater. An older couple collected animals without the means to care for them properly. They had to euthanize quite a few, but we were able to rescue him. Billie, Benny, and I have all given him lots of attention to no avail. In a fit of frustration, I tried to ride him bareback last year, and landed ass up in the stream near the edge of our property. It took Billie and Benny the rest of the day to corral Noodles, and nobody’s tried to ride him since. ”

Beau moves his hand toward the side of the horse’s head, and he shudders, jostling back. “Right, Noodles?”

I recognize the fear in those giant black pools. It reverberates through the stall, and I wait for an opening.

“Would love to have him shown at the next rodeo.”

“When’s that?” I ask.

“Three weeks. First Saturday of the month.”

I take a step closer. The sunlight from the window highlights his muscular frame, rippling with power beneath his beautiful coat.

His mane and tail are long, wild, and untamed.

His eyes tell a different story—wide, alert, and filled with deep, wary intelligence.

There’s a flicker of distrust in his dark orbs as if he’s constantly calculating the safest distance to maintain.

“Be careful,” Beau says. “Steady, boy.”

I’m fairly certain he’s talking to the horse, not me, but I proceed with caution.

Noodles stands with a slight tension in his body and a subtle arch in his neck.

His large and strong hooves shift restlessly on the shavings, and given a chance, I’m sure he’d bolt.

I take a half step closer, and his entire demeanor changes—his ears flatten slightly, and his gaze hardens, flicking back and forth as if deciding whether to flee or face me.

Noodles’ nostrils flare, and his chest rises and falls with a quickened breath. He begins to shift back, but his hindquarters bump against the two-by-fours of the barn wall.

Without making eye contact, I kneel, bringing my head lower than his, and take my hat off. When he doesn’t move, I lower my gaze to the ground and lift my free hand, palm outstretched.

The silence in the barn is palpable. The air escaping Noodles’ nose mixes with the loud drumming from my chest. Beau remains still and quiet.

I inhale deeply through my nose and raise my palm slightly as I exhale through pursed lips. After another breath, the soft, smooth skin of the horse’s nose makes contact with my skin.

“Well, I…” Beau whispers.

Keeping my palm steady, I rise slowly, settling my hat back onto my head as my other hand moves to gently support Noodles’ chin, feeling the soft hair against my fingers.

“Good boy.” I keep my voice low. “Good boy.”