He spent forty-five minutes with the horses, talking to them as he worked—filling the feeders, making sure the automatic waterers were operating, doing a little grooming as needed. He told them about Carly and how they’d meet her, and about the new client who’d be arriving soon. Some of the other local ranchers would no doubt consider him a bit touched in the head, carrying on lengthy conversations with horses, dogs and even the occasional bird.

Finally, he turned four of them out for the day. The remaining two included a Thoroughbred gelding named Chief with a serious attitude problem; Chief was now his. So was a shaggy little black-and-white mare, a pro bono case brought to him by a volunteer with an animal rescue group just two weeks before.

He’d named the mare Annie, and every time he thought of her, another crack opened in his heart. She’d been abandoned, turned loose to fend for herself, and she’d had a rough time of it out there all alone; she was scarred and slat-ribbed and her hooves had grown out, then split.

Annie was still terrified of everything—the other horses, the dogs and Cord himself. Now she huddled in a corner of the stall, hide quivering, and stayed well back from the feeder.

He’d trimmed her hooves when she’d first arrived, washed her down and applied salve to her wounds, and she’d borne his attentions meekly, shrinking from every touch of his hand.

He would get through to her, no doubt about it, but the process was going to take a while. He’d officially adopted her, which was how he’d gotten three of the four horses he owned. Rebel, his sorrel gelding, was the only one of the bunch who’d had a good start in life—he’d been born and bred right there on the ranch, near the end of Bill Hollister’s working days.

For a while after Cord’s grandfather died, Rebel was the only horse on the place. With Cord away at college, finishing his last year, Bill had found new homes for all the others and he’d stopped taking on extras to train or just redeem.

That summer almost thirteen years ago, when Cord was about to begin a veterinary studies program, Bill had suffered a heart attack and died in his sleep, leaving Mimi almost catatonic with shock.

Cord hadn’t been in much better shape than his grandmother, and even Rebel, a yearling at the time, had seemed to feel the loss. Bill had spent a lot of time with that colt, and it had been heartbreaking to see the animal standing at the pasture fence, watching for his friend to come out of the house.