Second-Chance Cowboy. Carolyne Aarsen

Have you asked Tabitha? I helped train her. She’s a natural, though she hasn’t done much of it since she moved back here.”

      Again with Tabitha?

      “Not an option” was all Morgan would say.

      “Will I never be able to ride my mom’s horse?” Nathan said, his chin now trembling. He looked up at Morgan, who was disconcerted by the tears in the boy’s eyes.

      “We’ll figure something out, Nathan,” Morgan said, kneeling down and catching his son by his narrow shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to ride her. Just not right away.”

      “So Miss Tabitha will train her?” Nathan asked, wiping his tears away with the back of one dusty hand.

      “I said we’ll figure something out” was all he said. Though he didn’t like the way the conversation was going, at least Nathan was talking to him. That was a plus.

      Nathan nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer.

      “I better clean out that trailer and get on my way,” Ernest said, pushing away from the fence. “Nathan, you want to help me?”

      “Sure.” Nathan scooted past Morgan looking happier than he had in a while.

      Morgan waited until he was out of earshot, then turned to his brother.

      “So what do you think I should do?” he asked. “That horse isn’t rideable and Nathan seems to think it might happen.”

      “A horse you can’t ride is taking up space and eating valuable hay,” Cord said, ever the practical rancher.

      “But Nathan seems attached to the beast because it belonged to Gillian.” Morgan sighed, resting his arms on the rail, watching the horse going round and round the pen. “He’s the most enthusiastic when he talks about that horse. Nice change from the slightly depressed kid I usually see. But I can’t find anyone to train it except, it seems, for Tabitha.” He sighed again. “And I’m not sure I want to go down that road. Bad enough I have to work with her. At least at the clinic there are boundaries.”

      “If she is training this horse, she’ll need to be working with Nathan.”

      Morgan sighed. “I know, but truth is, I don’t think she has the time. She’s working two jobs and renovating her house.”

      “Probably just as well.” Cord held his brother’s gaze as he released a hard breath. “She broke your heart once before. Word on the street is that she’s only in town long enough to fix up that place her dad left to her and sell it. She’ll take the money and move on, just like her dad. You’ve got a kid now. He’s what you have to think about. Keep Tabitha in the past, where she belongs.”

      “I think I can handle myself with Tabitha,” Morgan returned, feeling a surge of frustration that his brother seemed to think one look into those blue-green eyes would turn him into a mindless lunatic.

      Cord nodded, as if he didn’t believe his brother’s protests.

      “I’ll get the rest of the fencing stuff” was all Cord said.

      But as his brother walked away, Morgan pondered Cord’s words. Worst of it was, even in spite of his tough talk, he knew his brother was right.

      Fool me once, he thought, heading over to where his son was chatting with Ernest.

      He couldn’t afford to trust so blindly again.