He learned this as a boy growing up on the ranch. It had just been a long time since he’d used it in a quieter context.

He hadn’t been allowed to.

He’d known every horse on the ranch as a boy. He’d spent all his free time outside. Riding, exploring. And he’d known it was in his blood.

Waking up one morning to find that his horses were all being sold had been like losing a piece of his soul.

He knew even now that Hank didn’t understand that. That his connection wasn’t about liking to skip out of school or ignore his homework.

That it had been something deeper.

Something that had been damaged in a deep and real way that day. He’d spent years after waking up on a ranch with no horses.

And at that point the rodeo he’d never really wanted to be part of had looked pretty sweet by comparison. Bonus points for pissing his dad off.

For proving to him that he couldn’t win.

Still, in moments like this when Gabe realized how long it had been since he’d truly connected with one of the animals, he wondered if Hank had won in a more profound way than he realized.

“You a horse whisperer?”

He looked over at Jamie, who was watching him with amusement, her arms crossed, that sassy mouth of hers quirked up to one side, a groove there deepening.

“You’re not the only person who knows how to find a connection with an animal,” he said.

“Then why weren’t you doing it the other day?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Lying.

He knew why. This whole thing was uncomfortable, this fit back into the ranch, when he wasn’t really here. When his plan was to leave.

When he had so intentionally put off the desire to do this. When he had so intentionally run headlong into the thing his dad hadn’t wanted him to do.

His version of revenge, he supposed.

Become a rodeo champion.

It was complicated in a family like his. His father wasn’t an irredeemable villain. He might have done underhanded things, but when it came to his kids, he’d done it to try to give them what he’d thought would be a better life. He had the subtlety of a damn sledgehammer, but his motives were often good. Hank Dalton loved his kids, and they loved him. He was charming, and he was fun. And he provided a lot of the very important pieces that made Gabe who he was.

A lot of important pieces. A lot of shitty ones.

“Well, you better find some intuition today.” She swung her leg up over the horse in one fluid motion, firmly in her element again and with all her cockiness right in place.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“You giving out the orders now, Jamie?”

He mounted Gus, moving alongside her. And suddenly he could see that lost little girl in her eyes. The one he’d glimpsed earlier when she’d been battling with the gate.