“I’m definitely ready for this. She’s not even old,” Jamie said. “I bet she could get back in fighting shape really quick.”

“You know,” he said, “maybe this is the answer to some of your problems.”

“What problems?”

“Weren’t you just saying that you needed some time with the right horse to get on track with your barrel racing? Maybe Gem is your answer.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yes. But I’m not sure that... I don’t know if I could afford a new horse, not with the way that I’m trying to save up.”

“Obviously, I would give her to you. At least use her. I’m not planning on keeping any of these horses, and I’m not looking to turn a serious profit here.”

“Really?”

He wasn’t really sure why he was offering the horse to Jamie, except that...

Jamie had a passion for all of this that he couldn’t seem to find in himself. And it made him want more. Want more in a way he’d avoided for a long damned time.

He...wanted to feel.

That was a shock. But seeing Jamie, that fire in her, it reminded him of what it had been like to really want something. To really care.

To live a life that went past just being lost in a haze of the roaring crowd, strong whiskey and easy touch of the newest buckle bunny who’d set her sights on him.

To want something bigger. More.

“Let’s get the horse secured into a paddock, and we’ll give her a few hours. Then why don’t we do some evaluation.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jamie said.

When they got back to the barn, Jamie took responsibility for their new acquisition, and Gabe went off to see to some of his own chores. He was sitting in the office, making some phone calls regarding potential incoming horses, when the door opened.

He didn’t know why, but he was half expecting it to be Jamie, so when it proved to be Hank, he was surprised. “Can I help you?” he asked his father.

“I figured I would come out and check on your changes,” Hank said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the door frame.

“I didn’t think you would care much about the changes I’d made.”

“Why do you think that? I’m the one who asked you to take the helm around here.”

“Sure,” Gabe said, “but this isn’t what you wanted me to do.”

“You’re in your thirties now. It’s the kind of work you do, whether or not I wanted you to do it back then. There’s no fight to have about it.”

Gabe gritted his teeth. “Sure.”

He regarded his father for a long moment, and the older man leaned back and crossed his arms. It took Gabe a moment to realize he was leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed in just the same way.

He relaxed his posture and rested his hands on his desk.

“I wish you’d stick around here.”