High-Riding Heroes Read Online Free PDF

catchall.
    Tools lined the walls and the floor. Old harnesses and saddles, blankets, moldy hay, and various pieces of trash were strewn here and there. Victoria shook her head. Never had their barn and stables been in such a state. Of course, in Virginia there had been stableboys and grooms to see to such things. Out here you had your own two hands wrapped around a pitchfork and a broom.
    Rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, Victoria started at the end closest to the door. Her hands had already begun to callus from some of the work she had done and from learning to work with some of the horses. Twice, one of the more stubborn mustangs had pulled the leather through her hands. She preferred the gentle company of her own gelding to some of the less disciplined mounts here, but she didn’t mind it really. She found a certain amount of satisfaction in the doing as opposed to the directing. She lined the tools up according to size. The older, nonfunctional ones were thrown in the wheelbarrow. Half this stuff was going to the dump.
    Not many people were awake at this hour. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, sending strong beams of light through the morning haze. The stillness was broken only by the sounds Victoria made as she moved around the barn and the early morning birds in search of the elusive worm.

    Joey Light
    As she worked, Victoria looked around, planning. Once the floor was cleaned down to the packed dirt, she would start on the stalls. They hadn’t been used for horses in years but she planned on bringing Tonka up here from the new barn on the back lot. She liked that it was authentic and not a metal building with a cement floor.
    They could advertise a dance for Saturday nights. Tables could be set up nearest the office, laden with pies and cakes and punch, just as she had seen on TV. A not so very authentic stereo system would serve until she could find a few fiddlers and a caller. Square dancing. It would be the social event of the county.
    Romantic slow dances. The Western two-step. It could become a monthly event bringing steady streams of new money into Glory Town. Aside from the tourists, people from the surrounding towns could enjoy them, too.
    A small anvil resisted Victoria’s efforts to move it. Pushing her sleeves up farther and taking a deep breath, she bent down and grabbed it on both ends and tugged.
    “Trying to give yourself a hernia?”
    Without breaking her pace, she dragged the heavy iron block toward the tack room door. “You’re up early, Mr. Cooper. Funny, I didn’t figure you for it.
    Some of the men around here are as lazy as sheep and…” She felt the heat of embarrassment. The last time they had been together in the same room, she had been naked A slight rush of pink flushed her cheeks.
    He moved past her and lifted the anvil as if it were filled with helium.
    Returning, he cast her an absent smile. “Ladies shouldn’t pick up anything that weighs that much. There’s plenty of men around here who would be glad to do it for you.”
    Grabbing the rake, she pulled hay and straw toward the door. She watched him as he looked around and moved to one corner, then began pacing off the 30
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    High-Riding Heroes
    distance with a cocky, long-legged stride. Curious, she leaned her cheek on the rake handle and watched him.
    He reached for a pad and pencil he had stuffed in his rear pocket and began to scribble notes on it. Walking to the door, he stepped off the distance to the back wall.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, setting the rake against the paddock door just a mite incensed that he was here, making some sort of plan…in her barn.
    “Measuring. I intend to set up a few classes in here. We can use the haymow for the falls. Here, I can choreograph the gunfights and practice instinct shooting.
    I think we need a good sharp-shooting show. That always keeps the tourists interested.” He tested the strength of the beams holding up the loft.
    Her chin