Page 1 of When a Cowboy Falls Hard
Chapter One
Fighting a mild headache, Monty Bridger shrugged into a denim jacket, left his cottage and headed for the barn to meet his mom. A warm breeze caressed his freshly shaven jaw. He could’ve skipped the jacket.
He paused to draw in a cleansing breath. The bright aroma of new growth and loamy, fertile earth was so strong he could almost taste it.
Raindrops from an early morning shower sparkled on blades of grass poking up in his front yard. A stand of pines to his right glittered as if they’d been strung with fairy lights.
His headache eased. God, he loved this ranch, especially in June, and not just because he had a birthday coming up in two days. This was the time of year folks in Montana greeted with relief and joy.
Then again, he enjoyed all four seasons. The predictable shift from one to the next kept things interesting. He was good with that level of change in his life.
But abrupt and unexpected changes made him nervous. Which explained his headache this morning. He adjusted the fit of his Stetson and continued down the gentle slope toward the barn.
His mom waited for him by the open barn doors. From this distance she could be mistaken for a teenager dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, especially with her salt and pepper hair tucked under her Stetson.
She’d been his rock the past couple of years, grounding him and the rest of the family as they’d navigated life without their dad. She was the strongest person he’d ever known.
As he approached, he listened for the distinctive rumble of Graham’s new truck on the ranch road. Couldn’t hear it yet.
“Hey, mijo.” His mom gave him a smile. “Were you gathering your forces just now?”
He returned her smile. “More or less. Nice choice on the sweatshirt.” Luis’s wife Jordan had given one to each of them for Christmas—bright green with Bridger Bunch across the front.
She nudged back her hat and gazed up at him. “Figured it would be a fun thing to wear when we meet our new farrier. I wondered if you’d do the same and we’d be matchy-matchy.”
“Mine’s in the wash.”
“Might be just as well. One sweatshirt is folksy. Two is more of a statement. Graham said his niece is freaked out about shoeing our horses since we’re his oldest and biggest account.”
“I’m a little freaked out, myself. Graham Harrison’s been shoeing our horses as long as I can remember.”
“Same here. He was the ranch’s farrier when I married your dad.”
“It’s gonna be strange having someone else do it.”
“I suppose, but it’s not like he’s retiring. He’ll work alongside her, especially at first.”
“Are you positive he’s not sick or something?” He winced as pain jabbed at his temple.
“Si, mijo. I grilled him about his health. He says he’s fine.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do. I threatened to make his life a living hell if he was lying to me.”
“Then I don’t get why he’s taking on an assistant. He’s never said the work is getting too hard, at least not to me.”
“He’s not the complaining type.”
“Do you think he needs the help?”
“Possibly. He’s the same age as your dad.” Her breath caught. “Or the age your dad would’ve been.” She cleared her throat. “It’s a physically demanding job.”
“Are you sure he’s not sick?”
“I’m sure.” She gazed at him. “He knew why I was quizzing him. He’s been a fixture around here.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Thanks to him, I’m a better vet. He’s taught me to look for things I might have missed.”
