A Valentine's Choice: A Montana Sky Series Holiday Novella (The Montana Sky Series) by Debra Holland Page B
Authors: Debra Holland
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a similar magical effect on Bridget. Just thinking of her reaction, he couldn’t help but grin.
Inside the barn, he saw Bridget talking to Patrick Gallagher while she stroked his horse, and James’s cheerful feelings gave way to jealousy. He stalked toward them, nodding at Gallagher but giving Bridget a warm grin. “Are you ready for your tour of the barn?”
“I am, indeed.”
Patrick frowned. “I’ll go lunge Thunder.”
Bridget cast the man a reluctant glance, as if wanting to see him work the horse. She gave a final pat to the stallion’s nose. “I’ll see ye again, sweet boy.” With a smile at Gallagher, she moved to James’s side.
“Come this way.” He led her to the middle of the barn. “I’m assuming you’d rather see the horses than the tack room or the hay loft.”
She nodded, a wide smile on her face.
“Wyatt had these doors shortened so the horses can see over them.” He gestured for her to look into a stall.
Bridget peeked over, and her eyes widened. “Oh.” She inhaled sharply in obvious delight at seeing the tiny black mare. “Why, I’ve never seen the like! Tell me, Jamie—” the nickname slipped out “—what is this dear wee creature? Surely not a pony. She’s too small.”
There’s the smile I was hoping for. He liked how Bridget called him Jamie , the word taking on a different cadence when uttered in a musical Irish accent. Although he might have to beat up a man who called him Jamie, the name coming from her seemed intimate. With a sense of longing, he wondered if he’d ever hear her whisper his name while they were together in the dark of the night.
James realized Bridget was waiting for his answer. “A Falabella. Her name’s Chita, and she belongs to Daniel. Mrs. Thompson brought them from Argentina.”
“Them? There are more?”
“Yes. And you’ll see more around town because we only kept one foal. Let me introduce you to each Falabella, then you can choose which to get acquainted with first. They’re all good-natured and very playful.” James took Bridget’s hand and led her down the row, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. He tried to act casual, but his heart thumped so loudly he heard the pulse beat in his ears. “The chestnut is Bonita, the brown mare is Pampita. Mariposa is the gray. The Falabella stallion is Chico.”
“Such darlings.” Her face glowed. “I’m in love already.”
So am I. He cleared his throat. “They do have that effect on people.” He stopped before the last shortened door. “This brown sweetie was born here. She belongs to Christine, who named her Tulip.”
“’Tis adorable, she is. I’ll start with her.”
“Go right ahead.” He opened the stall door and stood back.
Bridget took two steps inside and sank to her knees in the straw. Luckily, Deuce had already mucked out this stall.
At first, James thought to wander off and do some work, for there were always jobs around the barn. But he couldn’t tear himself away for long. Instead, he grabbed his bridle, a can of linseed oil, and a rag, and rubbed the leather while he leaned against the opposite stall and watched Bridget.
She never even noticed his regard, so absorbed in the Falabellas was she. She moved from stall to stall, spending about five minutes with each Falabella.
Right now, James could see by the way she smiled and caressed the horses, even kissing their noses, that no worries about her sister or her aunt crossed her mind. He wished he could make this time last—always keep her free from care. But at least she has a respite.
After about half an hour, he stirred from his spot and quietly called out. “Bridget, if you want to see the rest of the animals, we’d best be going.”
“Oh, goodness, yes.” She ran a hand over Mariposa’s gray back and stood. “Sally will be waking soon, and I should be back by then.”
He took her toward some of the other horses, pulling a carrot from his pocket when they reached Dusty and offering it to
Inside the barn, he saw Bridget talking to Patrick Gallagher while she stroked his horse, and James’s cheerful feelings gave way to jealousy. He stalked toward them, nodding at Gallagher but giving Bridget a warm grin. “Are you ready for your tour of the barn?”
“I am, indeed.”
Patrick frowned. “I’ll go lunge Thunder.”
Bridget cast the man a reluctant glance, as if wanting to see him work the horse. She gave a final pat to the stallion’s nose. “I’ll see ye again, sweet boy.” With a smile at Gallagher, she moved to James’s side.
“Come this way.” He led her to the middle of the barn. “I’m assuming you’d rather see the horses than the tack room or the hay loft.”
She nodded, a wide smile on her face.
“Wyatt had these doors shortened so the horses can see over them.” He gestured for her to look into a stall.
Bridget peeked over, and her eyes widened. “Oh.” She inhaled sharply in obvious delight at seeing the tiny black mare. “Why, I’ve never seen the like! Tell me, Jamie—” the nickname slipped out “—what is this dear wee creature? Surely not a pony. She’s too small.”
There’s the smile I was hoping for. He liked how Bridget called him Jamie , the word taking on a different cadence when uttered in a musical Irish accent. Although he might have to beat up a man who called him Jamie, the name coming from her seemed intimate. With a sense of longing, he wondered if he’d ever hear her whisper his name while they were together in the dark of the night.
James realized Bridget was waiting for his answer. “A Falabella. Her name’s Chita, and she belongs to Daniel. Mrs. Thompson brought them from Argentina.”
“Them? There are more?”
“Yes. And you’ll see more around town because we only kept one foal. Let me introduce you to each Falabella, then you can choose which to get acquainted with first. They’re all good-natured and very playful.” James took Bridget’s hand and led her down the row, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. He tried to act casual, but his heart thumped so loudly he heard the pulse beat in his ears. “The chestnut is Bonita, the brown mare is Pampita. Mariposa is the gray. The Falabella stallion is Chico.”
“Such darlings.” Her face glowed. “I’m in love already.”
So am I. He cleared his throat. “They do have that effect on people.” He stopped before the last shortened door. “This brown sweetie was born here. She belongs to Christine, who named her Tulip.”
“’Tis adorable, she is. I’ll start with her.”
“Go right ahead.” He opened the stall door and stood back.
Bridget took two steps inside and sank to her knees in the straw. Luckily, Deuce had already mucked out this stall.
At first, James thought to wander off and do some work, for there were always jobs around the barn. But he couldn’t tear himself away for long. Instead, he grabbed his bridle, a can of linseed oil, and a rag, and rubbed the leather while he leaned against the opposite stall and watched Bridget.
She never even noticed his regard, so absorbed in the Falabellas was she. She moved from stall to stall, spending about five minutes with each Falabella.
Right now, James could see by the way she smiled and caressed the horses, even kissing their noses, that no worries about her sister or her aunt crossed her mind. He wished he could make this time last—always keep her free from care. But at least she has a respite.
After about half an hour, he stirred from his spot and quietly called out. “Bridget, if you want to see the rest of the animals, we’d best be going.”
“Oh, goodness, yes.” She ran a hand over Mariposa’s gray back and stood. “Sally will be waking soon, and I should be back by then.”
He took her toward some of the other horses, pulling a carrot from his pocket when they reached Dusty and offering it to