EMMETT (The Corbin Brothers Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: Lexie Ray
strong and confident and with a plan in place. It was all the better that Hadley asked me to save going back to work for tomorrow. I had business with Dax Malone.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. I’d learned from plenty of people around the region to build my knowledge of the horses, shadowing vets and folks who’d learned equine know-how from facts passed down from their ancestors. But I’d never stumbled upon the idea of actually going to Dax Malone and learning about a breeding operation from a breeder himself. Probably because he was a rotten bastard. And because I didn’t want it to get back to my brothers.
I put Sugar out to pasture after removing her saddle — she deserved a little fresh air — and commandeered a truck. We had three we juggled among ourselves, which was usually enough. They weren’t used for much more than Zoe making a supply run for groceries and toiletries, or Tucker going in to town to drink a little bit every so often. I wondered whether Chance was still poring over all the bills and cattle logs inside before hauling myself up and retrieving the keys from the sun visor.
Dax Malone’s outfit was a good 45-minute drive from the ranch. It was a bit of a haul, but that was just the nature of living in ranching country. You had to drive past everyone’s sprawling parcels of land before you could do any business face to face. The first thing I noticed, though, finally getting onto Dax’s land, was just how nice he kept his fence line. Our ranch was so big and our needs so immediate that we just had simple posts from mesquite or cottonwoods or whatever branches we could find, wrapped with barbed wire to dissuade the cattle from making a run for it. Dax had pretty four-board fences, all painted a perfect white. It confirmed to me that he was making more than enough money on his operation to keep things looking pretty good around his land. Wouldn’t Chance get a kick out of four-board fences? Maybe we’d paint them a crazy color just to mess with people.
I steered the truck down a winding gravel road kept neat and free from ruts and divots, bordered on both sides with that ubiquitous four-board white fence. It was almost too much, that fence, now that I was surrounded by it on all sides, but I had to appreciate the effort it had to take to keep it looking as nice as it did. On either side, the pasture lands rolled, and horses grazed on the grass. I wondered if he watered the fields, or had some kind of irrigation system rigged up. They looked like they hadn’t suffered at all with the drought plaguing everyone else in the area.
I stopped the truck at the first barn I came to and got out, feeling like a fish out of water, but strangely excited. What would my breeding operation look like once I got it up and running? Would my brothers take it as an affront if I portioned that area of the ranch off with four-board white fences?
It probably wasn’t a good idea, walking up to the old man’s barn announced. I’d heard legends about his penchant for shotguns and asking questions much later than he should’ve. But I needed advice and I needed it now. I’d waited long enough, doing all the research I could manage. There wasn’t a book I hadn’t read about horse breeding operations. Dax Malone was the horsing resource I required.
“What’s a Corbin doing away from his family’s cattle?”
I stopped short in my tracks, unwilling to provoke a man I knew — at least from town gossip — to have a volatile temper.
“I just wanted to have a quick chat with you, sir, providing you’re not too busy to,” I said, trying to look and sound as nonthreatening as possible. I took my hands from my pockets and held them down to my sides, palms facing outward.
“I’m busy all the time, Corbin,” he barked, peering at me from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “And you should be, too. I know what kind of shit your ranch is in. Same as all the others in this area — minus
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. I’d learned from plenty of people around the region to build my knowledge of the horses, shadowing vets and folks who’d learned equine know-how from facts passed down from their ancestors. But I’d never stumbled upon the idea of actually going to Dax Malone and learning about a breeding operation from a breeder himself. Probably because he was a rotten bastard. And because I didn’t want it to get back to my brothers.
I put Sugar out to pasture after removing her saddle — she deserved a little fresh air — and commandeered a truck. We had three we juggled among ourselves, which was usually enough. They weren’t used for much more than Zoe making a supply run for groceries and toiletries, or Tucker going in to town to drink a little bit every so often. I wondered whether Chance was still poring over all the bills and cattle logs inside before hauling myself up and retrieving the keys from the sun visor.
Dax Malone’s outfit was a good 45-minute drive from the ranch. It was a bit of a haul, but that was just the nature of living in ranching country. You had to drive past everyone’s sprawling parcels of land before you could do any business face to face. The first thing I noticed, though, finally getting onto Dax’s land, was just how nice he kept his fence line. Our ranch was so big and our needs so immediate that we just had simple posts from mesquite or cottonwoods or whatever branches we could find, wrapped with barbed wire to dissuade the cattle from making a run for it. Dax had pretty four-board fences, all painted a perfect white. It confirmed to me that he was making more than enough money on his operation to keep things looking pretty good around his land. Wouldn’t Chance get a kick out of four-board fences? Maybe we’d paint them a crazy color just to mess with people.
I steered the truck down a winding gravel road kept neat and free from ruts and divots, bordered on both sides with that ubiquitous four-board white fence. It was almost too much, that fence, now that I was surrounded by it on all sides, but I had to appreciate the effort it had to take to keep it looking as nice as it did. On either side, the pasture lands rolled, and horses grazed on the grass. I wondered if he watered the fields, or had some kind of irrigation system rigged up. They looked like they hadn’t suffered at all with the drought plaguing everyone else in the area.
I stopped the truck at the first barn I came to and got out, feeling like a fish out of water, but strangely excited. What would my breeding operation look like once I got it up and running? Would my brothers take it as an affront if I portioned that area of the ranch off with four-board white fences?
It probably wasn’t a good idea, walking up to the old man’s barn announced. I’d heard legends about his penchant for shotguns and asking questions much later than he should’ve. But I needed advice and I needed it now. I’d waited long enough, doing all the research I could manage. There wasn’t a book I hadn’t read about horse breeding operations. Dax Malone was the horsing resource I required.
“What’s a Corbin doing away from his family’s cattle?”
I stopped short in my tracks, unwilling to provoke a man I knew — at least from town gossip — to have a volatile temper.
“I just wanted to have a quick chat with you, sir, providing you’re not too busy to,” I said, trying to look and sound as nonthreatening as possible. I took my hands from my pockets and held them down to my sides, palms facing outward.
“I’m busy all the time, Corbin,” he barked, peering at me from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “And you should be, too. I know what kind of shit your ranch is in. Same as all the others in this area — minus
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