Texas Forever. Janet Dailey

you’ve had your breakfast, we can go together. All right, Erin?”

      “Sure.” Erin filled Rose’s coffee cup, then refilled her own.

      “Erin’s our number two horse expert on the ranch,” Will said. “Sky’s been training her since she was no higher than a horse’s belly. He claims she’s got a gift. Since she ruled out college to become a horse trainer, all I can say is I hope he’s right.”

      “Erin strikes me as a young lady who knows what she wants and how to get it. I’m sure she’ll do fine.” Rose added milk to her coffee, then turned to Erin. “I’ve done a little horse training myself. Maybe I can learn some things from you.”

      “Or we can learn from each other,” Erin said. “Wait till I show you my stallion, Tesoro. He’s spectacular.”

      “I’m looking forward to seeing him.” Rose downed her coffee and a triangle of buttered toast. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

      The horse paddocks and adjoining pens were a hundred yards from the house, convenient to hay, water, and tack. The brood mares, foals, and stallions were kept here, as well as horses for the family and the regular mounts for the ranch hands. Other horses were corralled at the line camps out on the range, or allowed to graze loose until needed at roundup time.

      “What time will Beau be here?” Rose asked as they crossed the ranch yard. “I was fond of him as a boy. I’m looking forward to meeting the man he’s become.”

      “He’ll be here with his wife and daughter this afternoon,” Will said. “I’m guessing they won’t stay much past the funeral tomorrow. He’ll be glad to see you, but he’s pretty much washed his hands of this ranch—and me.”

      “I’m right sorry to hear that,” Rose said. “It would break Bull’s heart to know how things turned out between his two sons.”

      Will shook his head. “Bull saw it coming. Something tells me he wouldn’t even be surprised.”

      “I’d like to visit Bull’s grave,” Rose said. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, but we parted friends. He was one of a kind.”

      “He was. Even his enemies would agree to that.”

      Erin lent half an ear to their conversation, but as they passed the windmill and rounded the barn her attention was fixed on the smallest of three metal-sided pens, where Luke Maddox was working. Walking ahead of Will and Rose, she slowed her steps as she neared the enclosure.

      A dozen or so young foals, still gangly-legged, were milling together on the far side of the pen. With his back toward Erin, Luke was bent against the side of a chestnut foal that was tethered to the fence with a soft nylon lariat. One hand gripped the foal’s tail, holding it with a twist. When Erin moved farther around the fence, she could see how one small front hoof rested on his knee. He was using a metal rasp to gently trim and smooth the hoof’s edge.

      By now, Will and Rose had caught up with Erin. Glancing up, Luke gave them a brief nod, then finished the hoof before releasing the foal to scamper back with the others.

      Only then did he straighten and turn, taking off the baseball cap he wore and raking back his dark, wavy hair. It was still early, but the day was already hot. The light chambray shirt he wore clung damply to his muscular body. A heavy leather apron, split up the center, circled his waist and covered his legs almost to the ankle. A wooden toolbox, open at the top, sat near his feet.

      “Mr. Tyler.” He gave Will a nod, ignoring Erin. “Excuse me if I don’t shake hands.”

      “That’s fine,” Will said. “I’m glad to see you’re already working, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re doing with these foals. They’re not old enough for shoes.”

      “Let me explain,” Luke said. “Or better yet, let me show you.”

      He walked to the clustered foals and eased one of them away from the others, coaxing it gently as he slipped a lead around its neck. “Now, take a look at his legs. Foals have short necks and long legs, so they get in the habit of spreading their legs to graze, even when they no longer need to. If that isn’t corrected, those spread legs will cause problems as they grow. Now watch what we can do about that—it’ll only take a few minutes.”

      Facing toward the rear, with a left-handed grip on the tail, he positioned himself on the foal’s right side, reached down, lifted a front leg and placed the hoof on his knee. “Because of the spread legs, the hooves tend to wear away on the inside edge. I’m going to rasp away the outside edge of the hoof so that it will be level. Like this.”

      With an unbelievably delicate touch, he cleaned the hoof, then used the rough side of the rasp to level off the outside edge. Then, using the finer side of the rasp, he smoothed the surface. The foal showed no sign of pain or distress.

      “That’s all there is to it. Now we do the other hooves.” He moved toward the foal’s hindquarters. “These little fellows are so calm, they’re easy to handle.”

      “That’s because we imprint them,” Erin said. “We handle them as soon as they’re born, so they get used to us.”

      “Good idea.” He didn’t look up. It took him only a few more minutes to finish all four hooves with a few swipes of the rasp. “There,” he said, stepping back. “Take a look.”

      “I’ll be damned!” Will said. “The legs are straight up and down, not spraddled!”

      “Keep them that way, and you’ll have a stronger animal. You can prevent all kinds of problems just by making sure a horse is standing level on its feet.”

      “I’ll be damned,” Will said again.

      “I should be done with the foals and yearlings by the end of the day.” Wasting no time, Luke chose another foal and led it to the fence. “I know you’ll be busy with the funeral tomorrow, but Sky said he’d see that I had plenty of work.”

      “Sounds like everything’s under control,” Will said. “Come on, Erin. Let’s show Rose your stallion.”

      They continued on past the barn to the smaller stud barn. The Rimrock had just three stallions. Two of them were retired cutting horses, with the qualities of strength, stamina, and cow sense needed for working a herd. Over the years, they’d passed these qualities on to their offspring, to produce many fine horses for the ranch.

      Erin’s horse, a magnificent, high-strung palomino, nickered and looked over the stall gate as he heard her voice. She’d been present at his birth, and with him through the seven years of his life. Tesoro, whose name meant “treasure,” was a show stopper, commanding handsome stud fees, especially after a few of his foals, out of chestnut mares, were born with shining golden coats like their sire’s.

      Sky had helped her break and train him, but there was a wild spirit about the stallion. Erin had no trouble handling and riding him, but the men, except for Sky, had learned to leave him alone.

      “He’s beautiful.” Rose raised a cautious hand and stroked the satiny neck. A quiver passed through the stallion’s body, but he tolerated her touch.

      “He was promised to me before he was born,” Erin said. “When we saw that golden coat, we knew we’d want to breed him. My mother was dead set against my having a stallion. She wanted me to choose another foal. But Tesoro was already mine. I wouldn’t budge, and my dad supported me.”

      She glanced at Will. He looked away, as if stung by the memory.

      “Rose, I need to go into town and get a few things for the funeral,” he said. “You’re welcome to come with me. You might enjoy seeing how Blanco Springs has changed in thirty years. We can even get a beer at the Blue Coyote.”

      “That old bar is still there? I can’t believe it!”

      “It’s passed through a number of hands since you were last here. The man who owns it now is Abner Sweeney, who used to be sheriff. That’s