Cord had decided to stay home instead of attending veterinary college, to keep the ranch going and look after Mimi, who was never the same after losing her husband. Mimi had died almost six years later, and despite an autopsy, cause of death was never established with certainty. Cord had always believed that grief was the reason.

The horses were a large part of what had helped him get through his own grief. The hours had been long, the work hard, but Cord had never minded those things; Bill had taught him well.

He’d worked with Rebel, using the techniques the old man had taught him, and coming up with a few of his own. Without that horse, and plenty of support and encouragement from Eli—J.P. was still in the military then—Cord thought he might have lost his way.

Word had gotten around. Cord Hollister, people said, had a way with a problem cayuse, just like his granddad, and then they started bringing him their misfits to train, some of them valuable, some simply beloved. Their troubles ranged from simple things, like an animal that refused to take the bit or accept a saddle or cross a creek, to serious cases of trauma, such as abuse, injury and neglect.

As his reputation grew, so did his business. Within two years, Cord was not only working with equine outlaws on the ranch, he was traveling all over the country to work with prized race horses, jumpers and the like.

Thanks to popular demand, he’d begun holding clinics and teaching his methods, and he was good at it. Recently, he’d also contributed to some therapy training when requested and found it immensely satisfying, especially after observing J.P.’s positive experience with Trooper. The right horse, like the right dog, could be a lifesaver in more ways than one.

He was no extrovert, far from it, but he soon discovered that he liked teaching owners and aspiring trainers almost as much as he liked spending time with their horses. He admired men like Monty Roberts and Buck Brannaman and had studied with both of them, even after he had students of his own.

Now here he was, an acknowledged expert, with all the work he could handle.

Sometimes, it still surprised him.

More surprising yet, he’d never once regretted not going back to school and becoming a veterinarian.

He had a special affinity for all animals, but especially for horses, and at times, he felt it bordered on the mystical.

He spoke gently to the little mare, who was still keeping her head down and her hind end pressed against the far wall. Mentally, he joined his heart to hers.

“You’re gonna be all right from now on, Annie-girl,” he said. “You have my word on that.”

CHAPTER FIVE

TINA WALKED INTO the kitchen and marched straight to the coffee maker.