253. Awesome
The view before her was awe-inspiring even at eighteen. Wide-open and half wild fields of green dotted and bordered with tall trees of varying evergreen and deciduous species. Mountains not too far off in the distance and their rocky foothills giving way to large boulders and craggy chucks of granite that littered the expanse of land completed the vista. Almost. There were the sounds to consider as well. Birdsong, insects chirping, somewhere there was the sound of free flowing water babbling and it couldn’t be too far off because she could smell it too.
She shivered, not from the cold snap in the air, but because of the excitement and pride she could sense rolling off her brother in tangible waves. Acres. Acres and acres of land, far larger than anything her parents owned themselves. Pristine and untouched. Gorgeous. Wesley’s.
“Flint Creek. Is that really what you’re callin’ this place, Wes?” She looked up at him with a skeptical tilt of her head and a bit of a furrow to her brow.
He smoothed his fingertips over those creases and smirked. “Damned right, baby girl. Flint Creek Ranch is going to be right here. You’re standing right…about…” He took her by the shoulders and moved her several steps to the left. “Smack in the middle of what’s going to be the stockyards.”
“You’re a damned fool, messin’ all this pretty up with cows.”
“What do you mean, jellybean? I know if it were up to you it’d be horses running wild, but Lainy there’s no profit in that. Just beauty. And hell, I’ve got you for that, right?”
“Kiss my butt.”
He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close for a hug. “Naw, that’s Jack’s job. I can’t believe I’m letting my baby sister marry Jackson Anderson.”
“You’re just jealous because you can’t have him.”
“Lainy, he ain’t my type. I like them handsome.”
She elbowed him in the side, laughing until she snorted. “Jack’s handsome! He is and you-Oh, my god, Wes, look at that!”
Laine Jansen was pointing to a break in the tree line, or more specifically, pointing at the stallion standing there. Wes let out a low whistle and the horse responded by lifting his head and flicking his ears forward. Laine, on the other hand, stood stock-still.
“Ain’t that somethin’?” She finally managed in a hushed gush of wonder, her eyes never leaving the beast’s form. “He must be sixteen hands high, easy…”
Forgotten was the beauty of the land she stood on replaced by the image of that wild stallion. Strong lines, sleek coat-even in this cooler air he hadn’t put on the winter shag and thick fur-and then as if he knew he was being watched and measured, the horse reared up on his hind legs. He let out a loud squealing nicker, neighing with his head held high. Laine held her hand up in return, as if saying hello to the animal. She was fairly certain he saw her. She was even more confident that some day there would be horses at Flint Creek.
She shivered, not from the cold snap in the air, but because of the excitement and pride she could sense rolling off her brother in tangible waves. Acres. Acres and acres of land, far larger than anything her parents owned themselves. Pristine and untouched. Gorgeous. Wesley’s.
“Flint Creek. Is that really what you’re callin’ this place, Wes?” She looked up at him with a skeptical tilt of her head and a bit of a furrow to her brow.
He smoothed his fingertips over those creases and smirked. “Damned right, baby girl. Flint Creek Ranch is going to be right here. You’re standing right…about…” He took her by the shoulders and moved her several steps to the left. “Smack in the middle of what’s going to be the stockyards.”
“You’re a damned fool, messin’ all this pretty up with cows.”
“What do you mean, jellybean? I know if it were up to you it’d be horses running wild, but Lainy there’s no profit in that. Just beauty. And hell, I’ve got you for that, right?”
“Kiss my butt.”
He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close for a hug. “Naw, that’s Jack’s job. I can’t believe I’m letting my baby sister marry Jackson Anderson.”
“You’re just jealous because you can’t have him.”
“Lainy, he ain’t my type. I like them handsome.”
She elbowed him in the side, laughing until she snorted. “Jack’s handsome! He is and you-Oh, my god, Wes, look at that!”
Laine Jansen was pointing to a break in the tree line, or more specifically, pointing at the stallion standing there. Wes let out a low whistle and the horse responded by lifting his head and flicking his ears forward. Laine, on the other hand, stood stock-still.
“Ain’t that somethin’?” She finally managed in a hushed gush of wonder, her eyes never leaving the beast’s form. “He must be sixteen hands high, easy…”
Forgotten was the beauty of the land she stood on replaced by the image of that wild stallion. Strong lines, sleek coat-even in this cooler air he hadn’t put on the winter shag and thick fur-and then as if he knew he was being watched and measured, the horse reared up on his hind legs. He let out a loud squealing nicker, neighing with his head held high. Laine held her hand up in return, as if saying hello to the animal. She was fairly certain he saw her. She was even more confident that some day there would be horses at Flint Creek.