“That gal with the clipboard liked Noodle’s looks. And Fitz said he didn’t want Pete.” Nudge rolled a wad of tobacco from one side of his jaw to the other. “It’s okay to let them check out the stock, right?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. Anything they want, within reason.” Ellie sighed. “But there’s nothing wrong with Pete. He’s a good pick for this job. The director liked him well enough.”
“Oh, Fitz liked him well enough, too,” said Nudge with a shrug, “but he said he was hoping for something a little more quick on the draw.”
“Pete’s okay.”
“Pete’s pokey, Ellie. Everybody knows that.”
“Yeah, but he won’t shy, and he won’t throw some Hollywood dude on his million-dollar ass.”
“I don’t think Fitz is worried about that.”
“I’m sure he’s not.” She rubbed at a tight spot on the back of her neck. “That’s why I get to do it for him.”
“I don’t think you’re gonna have to.” He nodded toward the arena. “Go take a look.”
“I just might.”
“Okay, then.” Nudge lifted the bridles. “Better go get these cleaned off and hung up before the spit dries on ’em.”
By the time Ellie claimed a viewing spot among the crowd hanging on the arena rails, Fitz was switching mounts again, pulling a saddle off Noodle. Brady Cutter, the ranch’s bowlegged stable hand and farrier, was standing to one side, smoothing a blanket over Hannibal, her oversize sorrel gelding.
Not Hannibal. Not my boy.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIE TENSED, READY TO CALL out and put a stop to the proceedings, but she bit her lip.
Why not Hannibal? Sure, he was a little green and more than a little headstrong, but if Fitz knew anything at all about horses, it’d only take a minute or two for him to figure it out. And if Fitz didn’t know as much about horses as he claimed, it would only take Hannibal a minute or two to figure that out—and then Fitz would be getting an education, fast and hard, down on the ground.
She watched Fitz sling the saddle over Hannibal’s broad back and then step aside to take the reins while Brady fussed over the cinch. The actor stood just to one side of the horse’s head, a serious and solemn look on his face, but whatever he was murmuring to Hannibal must have been amusing enough to have Brady throw his head back with a bark of a laugh.
And then Fitz stepped up into the saddle with the ease of a lifetime of practice and wrapped those long legs around Hannibal’s ribs, and the horse began to move. A leisurely walk, a smooth slide into a slow jog, a sudden turn to the center of the arena followed by a stiff-legged stop.
Ellie’s chest squeezed in suspended panic as she waited for the big horse to shimmy or break. But through the next few minutes of shifting gaits and motionless pauses, though she studied the way the actor’s boots rested in the stirrups and the way his fingers curled around the reins, she couldn’t fault his style. Heck, she couldn’t even catch half the cues he was giving. The gelding had never looked so good with someone on his back.
“Whoo-ee,” said Nudge, clambering up beside her. “Will you look at that?”
“I’m lookin’,” called Milo from another side of the arena. “Not believin’, but lookin’.”
“Hey, Ellie,” Jake shouted from his perch next to Chico, “Whad’ya think?”
“I think I’d better get back to work,” she answered.
Her comment cleared the hired hands off the rails faster than the dinner gong. Soon only a few film crew members remained with her to watch the rest of the show.
There wasn’t much left to watch. Fitz took Hannibal over a couple of low jumps and let him stretch his legs in another set of loping circuits, but soon he reined the horse into the center of the arena, where Brady waited with a halter and lead.
Will ambled over from behind the stables and headed toward Ellie. He waited for her to climb down, and then handed her half a sandwich and a bright red mug full of lemonade. “Heard Hannibal finally found himself a match.”
“Hmph.” Ellie bit into the sandwich and ripped off a satisfying chunk. “Probably having an off day,” she muttered as she chewed.
“Maybe he liked the signals he was getting.” Will turned his back to the arena, resting his elbows on the rail behind him. “Sounds like Fitz knows how to give ’em.”
“Maybe.” Ellie started to take another bite, but hesitated with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “I wonder what Tom would have done about this, whether he would have put a stop to it. I mean, that crazy actor could have had a fall and broken his leg, and then where would we be? Maybe I should have done something. Tom would have, don’t you think?”
“I don’t spend too much of my time wondering what Tom would have thought or done about this or that. He’s not here, Ellie. You are. And you did the right thing. No broken leg today.” Will glanced over his shoulder. “That crazy actor could still break something, though. There’ll be plenty of chances.”
“Yeah.” She took a smaller bite as the first one tossed around in her stomach. “That’s what’s been keeping me up nights.”
Will gazed up into the cottonwood trees, squinting at the glare of the sun where it peeked through the fluttering, shimmering leaves. “You don’t like him much, do you, little girl?”
“Who?”
“Fitz.”
She shrugged and took a sip of lemonade. “What’s not to like?”
“Nothing much. Maybe that’s the problem.” Will shot her one of his painfully neutral looks and then climbed over the rail and dropped into the arena.
FITZ SWUNG DOWN from the big horse and rubbed a hand along its neck. “I’ve got a few minutes to kill,” he told Brady. “I’ll take him in, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” Brady handed him the tack. “I’ll set his things out by his stall.”
As Fitz looped the halter around Hannibal’s neck, he noted Ms. Pointy Nose watching him like a hawk from her perch on the rail as her sidekick made his way across the arena. He’d been pushing his luck, waiting for the two of them to be occupied elsewhere so he could take a closer look at their stock.
He stood his ground as the ranch foreman approached. “Afternoon, Will.”
“Afternoon.” Will lifted his elbows and arched his back a bit with a groan. “Is that all the later it is?”
Fitz smiled. “Heard you had an early morning.”
“Yep. Too early for these creaky bones.” Will glanced at the stable entry. “Brady comin’ back out?”
“Nope.” Fitz slowly ran his hand down Hannibal’s face, tracing the thin white blaze. “I’m going to take him in.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
Fitz glanced over Will’s shoulder at Ellie. “Figured you might.”
Trish jogged out of the stable and into the arena. “Fitz! Burke’s looking for you. Nora’s here, and Mitch wants to get some publicity shots of the two of you. And Van Gelder’s got some rewrites for tomorrow’s scene.”
Rewrites. Damn. He tightened his grip on the lead as he guided Hannibal past her. “I’ll head back in a while.”
Trish hesitated before ducking into the breezeway behind the men. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Fine,” Fitz said. “If I get the okay from the people in charge, I’d like to work with