Chapter 18

Tag stood on the outside of the ring, watching Steele as he worked with Cinnamon. "Keep the flag lower," he coached. Cinnamon was well-trained, but he didn't like the flag. Tag hadn't thought he'd find himself in the outdoor ring at the beginning of February, working with one of the horses he and Gerty had brought back from Coral Canyon.

And he wasn't in the circle. Steele was. Tag was training Steele on how to work with horses, using horses who could use some exercise, wouldn't give Steele a problem, and who did need to be oriented to how they did things here in Colorado.

Steele didn't look at him, because that lesson had already been learned. Don't look away from the fifteen-hundred pound animal in the ring with you.

"He doesn't need the flag," Tag said. "You've got it in case something spooks him, but you're trying to get him to read your body cues. Follow your voice commands."

"Got it," Steele said, his voice deep and rumbly. One could construe it as grumpy or growly, but Tag had learned that was just how Steele operated. He didn't say much to begin with, but he liked getting together for breakfast sandwiches in the evening, and he never missed a morning of stopping by for coffee.

He claimed he couldn't make the stuff to save his life, and Tag had enjoyed getting to know him in the few minutes before their days got away from them. Steele had trouble keeping track of things, like his keys, his phone, and his wallet. Tag had been to his cabin many times in the past couple of months, and the man didn't have much to have lying around.

He did his dishes every day, and Tag hadn't detected any foul odors. He'd talked about getting his own dog, which Tag had encouraged him to do. If Tag wasn't seeing Opal in the evening, he and Steele might get together and watch TV or play cards.

But Tag saw Opal most evenings. He either came to the farmhouse and hung out there, or he took her to dinner in one of the neighboring towns. More often than not, Opal came to his cabin bearing her blow-up couch, a smile, and questions about his day.

He'd teased her that he had his own couch, but he never complained about cuddling into her on the cushy thing he'd given her for her birthday. The air-filled furniture sort of mashed them together, and Tag really enjoyed holding her close and blaming the couch for making her sit practically on top of him.

Tonight, though, Opal was meeting with a builder, as she'd decided to move forward with plans to construct a house right here on the farm. Gerty and Mike were selling her three acres of land near the epicenter of the farm, where their farmhouse and personal lawn stood.

Tag cleared his mind of all that had happened in the past couple of weeks. Opal couldn't stop talking about having a house to herself, and he wasn't going to burst any of her happiness balloons. He wasn't so sure she'd be the kind of joyful she thought she'd be living literally down the lane from Mike and Gerty.

And him.

He'd worried immediately about what might happen between them if they broke up. Would she leave then? Would he be expected to get another job?

And what if they ended up together? Would he move from his cabin to her house and live on this farm too? Continue to work it? What if he wanted to purchase a place of his own?

Then Gerty and Mike would have an extra house on their land, and Opal would own it and those three acres.

It all felt really messy to Tag, and his thoughts ended up going round and round in circles whenever he let himself linger on the topic. He felt like he'd boarded one of those trains that encircled a Christmas tree, and he couldn't get off.

Cinnamon huffed, and Tag got himself off the crazy train. He couldn't let his mind wander like that while working with horses. Or Steele.

"What doesn't he like?" Tag asked. Boots barked, and that also spiked Tag's adrenaline.

Steele glanced over to him. "I'm not sure. I didn't do anything differently."

Tag hunkered down into his collar as the wind swished by him. A raindrop struck his forehead, and a slight whistle irritated his ears.

Cinnamon huffed and tossed his head, which further alerted Tag to his distress. "Come on out," he said to Steele. "Maybe it's the weather." Animals, particularly horses as they were prey animals, were far more attuned to their environment, and they could sense things in the weather humans couldn't.

Steele climbed the fence and came over it as Cinnamon whinnied. Tag's pulse, which had been slow and even to match Cinnamon's, suddenly skyrocketed. "It's the whistling," Tag said, everything lining up suddenly. "A storm. Let's get him inside, and let's do it fast." He got off the fence and added, "Let's go, Boots."

"Okay," Steele said, and he jogged over to the gate to go back inside and get Cinnamon. The horse pranced left and right, pacing and nervous.

Tag looked up into the sky, which held clouds in every shade of gray God had ever created. In any other situation, he might've taken a moment to experience the beauty of the earth in all her glory. From sunrises and sunsets to angry thunderheads, Tag loved it all.

Another raindrop landed on his bare hand, and then one struck his face. The wind gusted, and a chill ran down his spine. Steele had just brought Cinnamon out of the ring, and Tag stopped standing around and went to close the gate.

The rain started in earnest as they went from the training ring to the stable, and he and Steele ducked inside before they got truly soaked. Thankfully. Cinnamon had a stall about in the middle, and a couple of other horses seemed agitated by the change in weather as well.

With everyone inside, Tag turned back to pull the door closed, but the wind grabbed it and yanked it away from him. It hit the outside of the barn with a terrifyingly loud, sharp bang, and Tag flinched as he swore.

More than one equine made some sort of noise, from a huff to a blow to a whinny. Both Boots and Max barked. None of them sounded happy, and Tag wasn't either. He had to go back out into the rain, and he did that just as another horrible noise filled the air.

It sounded like a series of gunshots being fired. Every nanosecond another one sounded, and they crowded on top of one another. Tag saw the hail in the next moment, and it pummeled him as he took the three steps out to get the flapping door. He hauled it closed successfully this time and latched it.

However, now he and Steele were trapped inside the barn with nine horses where the noise only grew and grew and grew as the hail continued to berate the roof. Max whined as he hurried toward the main room of the barn, but Boots stayed with Tag.

He bent down to pat his corgi. "We're okay, boy. It's just a storm, and heaven knows we've lived through a lot of those." He smiled at his dog and straightened to the horses.

"Hey, Dusty," Tag said quietly as he went by the horse's stall. "You're okay, Ontario." He stroked the gray's nose. "It's gonna be fine, Marigold. You're all right." She stuck her head over the gate and pushed his shoulder. "I know," he said. "It's just a little hail though, and it doesn't last long."

His ears felt like they'd been attacked, because the metal roof took every pelt of hail and amplified it.

"Sounds like they're huge," Steele called from down the row. He had to yell to be heard above the noise of the weather. The scent of dust and straw filled the barn, and Tag didn't hate it. It spoke to him of a good day's work, of living and working outside and with the animals who'd always soothed his soul.

"There you are, Congo," he said to the next horse down. "It's almost over." He gave the horse a neck pat and moved on. "Ah, you made it back inside, Cinnamon." Tag leaned his head against the red's long nose. "Thanks for warning us, or we might still be out there, getting beaten on."

He smiled and paused in front of the next stall, which belonged to Silver. "You're not nervous at all, are you?" He grinned at the calmest horse Gerty owned and looked over to where Florence lived.

Of course, she wasn't there. She was still skittish at best, and as Tag moved closer to her stall, he caught the horse tossing her head, obviously agitated. "Come on, Flo," he said to the black beauty. "It's fine. It's just a little hail." He didn't try to reach into the stall to touch the horse. "You came from Calgary, girl. You've been around snow and hail before."

Maybe not in a good way, and since they hadn't even owned Florence for a year yet, Tag found her to be the most unpredictable. Next to her, they'd placed Ellie, one of the horses they'd acquired from Bryce, because she was sweet as pie, and her energy seemed to help calm both Florence on her left and Rooster on her right.

Sure enough, Rooster huffed and flapped his lips, and that caused Flo to whinny like she was getting ripped up into the sky and would be carried away in the funnel of a tornado.

Tag couldn't comfort her, and in fact, she made him more nervous. So he moved down and stroked both hands down the sides of Ellie's neck. "Tell them to calm down, would you?" She snuffled at his jacket pocket, where he sometimes kept treats. "None today," he said.

Rooster came to the gate as Tag looked his way. "You're okay, Roost," he said. "It's just a little hail." It seemed to have slowed and lightened already, and Tag had hope that he and Steele wouldn't be trapped in here for much longer.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. Opal's name sat there, and surprise darted through him when he realized she was calling, not texting. His brain caught up to his eyes, and he swiped on the call.

"Hey," he said as he lifted the phone to his ear.

"Is there power at the farm?" she asked.

Tag looked up to the lights blazing in the barn. "Yeah. Where are you?" A popping noise came through the line, and Tag didn't like the sound of it.

"I pulled over on the side of the road," she said, her voice a bit breathless and definitely tinged with fear. "There's a hailstorm, and I can't see anything."

"We just went through the hail," he said. "Steele and I barely made it into the barn with Cinnamon."

"I was on my way to meet with the general contractor, but I think I might just cancel. I checked the weather, and it's supposed to start snowing and not stop until morning."

"I looked earlier," he said. "It wasn't supposed to start snowing until nine or ten."

"Well, it's four-ten," Opal said matter-of-factly.

Tag smiled to himself. "It sure is, honeybear."

"Don't tease me, Tag." She sighed, and he could just picture her pushing her hair back as she tried to see the solution to her current problem. "I swear, it's like every time I decide to take a step forward, something pushes me back two. Or three."

He frowned as he sank onto a stool. "What do you mean?" He watched Boots circle next to Max and lie down. Steele moved about the barn, putting away lead ropes and doing some general tidying up.

"I mean, I'd finally decided to buy the acreage from Mike, right? And the banker I need to sign my forms is out of town until next week. On vacation in Mexico, if you can believe that. And now that I'm on the way to go over plans for the house, I can't get there. It's just so irritating and frustrating."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. He pressed his eyes closed and tried to hear the Lord whispering to him what he should say. He'd definitely had help from On High with Opal in the past, and he needed it again. "I don't think it means you shouldn't be doing what you're doing."

"No?" she asked, her voice a touch higher than normal. "It feels like it." She sniffled, and Tag hated that she was crying on the side of the road somewhere, alone. A roar sounded in his ears, and he simply wanted to be with her to shore her up and help her feel better.

"Life can just be life sometimes," he said. "It's wintertime, and everyone wants to escape. Heck, if I could be in Cancun right now, I would be." He smiled as he said it, because he much preferred mountains to beaches, but he would take some warmer weather about now.

He thought of his brothers in Texas, and he bet they weren't dealing with loud-mouthed hail and nervous horses and crying girlfriends.

"Honeybee," he whispered. "Let's talk about Valentine's Day, okay?"

"Okay," Opal said, and Tag's heart got wrung out at her agonized tone.

"I got a reservation at this great place your cousin told me about."

"Which cousin?" Her voice sounded stronger now, and Tag ducked his head as Steele came to sit beside him. Pinging still sounded on the roof, though it had quieted quite a bit. It was probably turning to rain now, but Tag didn't want to go out in that any more than he did hail.

"Hunter," Tag said, employing his Southern accent. "He said he was allowed to tell two people about it, because they're doing a special menu, and they're not open to everyone."

"Sounds interesting," Opal said.

And expensive, but Tag didn't say so. "I'm told they'll have all of your favorites."

"By whom?" Opal asked, her voice now guarded instead of emotional.

"Gerty," he said with a smile. "Don't you trust me, Opal?"

"I do," she said.

"Yeah, I'm convinced." He laughed and looked over to the indoor chicken coops. None of the birds seemed worried about the hail or rain or the agitation of the horses. "It's going to be a great night. It's over in Littleton, so a bit of a drive, and I've been told I need to tell you to dress nicely."

"Define that, please," she said.

"I'm wearing a jacket," he said. "Or we can't get into dinner."

"So sequins-dress-nicely."

"I guess," Tag said. "I've never been out with anyone who wore sequins."

"Oh, I bet you have," Opal said.

"When?" Tag challenged, as Opal had known him for less than a year, and he'd lived his whole life.

"A prom date," Opal said. "Most prom dresses have sequins."

Tag glanced at Steele, who cut him a look out of the corner of his eye too. "I never went to prom," he said.

A small smile touched Steele's face, and he shook his head. "Me either," he murmured while Opal said, "You're kidding."

"Didn't see the point," Tag said.

"Didn't see the point?" Opal repeated, her tone much more scandalized. "Taggart, the point is you would've made someone's whole year."

His face grew a bit warmer. "Is that what I'm doing for you this Valentine's Day?" He half-turned away from Steele, wishing he could flirt in private. "Making your whole year?"

"I—why are you whispering?" Opal asked.

"Because I'm not alone." Tag's embarrassment grew, and he realized he'd been hunkered down and hunched over. He drew his shoulders back and lifted his head. "It's almost passed here, honeybee. I'm sure you'll be able to get to your appointment in no time."

"I'm worried I won't be able to get back to the farm."

"You could stay with Jane," he suggested.

"I'll call her."

Tag put his hand in his pocket and drew out his notebook. "Okay, sweetheart. I have to go, because we'll have to get out and check a few things before we head home."

"Okay," she said. "Thank you, Taggart, for talking to me until I calmed."

"Anytime, honey." He hung up, and he pulled the pen out of the coil at the top of the notebook.

"Anytime, honey," Steele mimicking, his voice just as slow and twangy as Tag's had been. He chuckled, but not in a mean way. "No wonder she's smitten with you."

Tag flipped open his notebook. "Is that what she is?" He found his place and read the sentences he'd put there earlier. Worried about Opal buying land here and building a house, but I'm having a hard time articulating why.

Need to call Flint and Sawyer. Their birthday is coming up soon. Set an alarm for it.

"Seems like it," Steele grumbled. "I don't know how you do it. I can't talk to women."

Tag was going to write about the hail and his call with Opal, not sure why it needed to go into the notebook. But he'd stopped trying to figure out what got jotted down and what didn't. When he felt like writing something down, he did it, no questions asked.

He looked over to Steele. "They make you nervous?"

"Oh, yeah," he said.

"Why's that?" Tag asked. "You're a good-looking man. You work hard. Anyone would be lucky to go out with you."

Steele looked up from his phone, which he texted on. Tag had never seen him actually speak to anyone on it, but surely he called his momma from time to time. Something else Tag needed to do.

"You mean that?" he asked.

"Of course I mean that," Tag said.

Steele's face colored, and he dropped his attention back to his device again. "Thank you, Tag," he murmured.

"If I knew any women, I'd set you up." Tag looked at his notebook and started writing. Hailed today, and it scared the horses—and me. Been a while since I've been caught in a hailstorm. So loud on the roof.

Opal called, scared and pulled over on the side of the road. I know I shouldn't be glad about that, but it was nice to see her be less-than-perfect.

We talked about Valentine's Day, and I'm so nervous about our date. She'll be gone tonight, so I'm going to watch those dancing tutorials again.

Satisfied with his thoughts, he flipped the notebook closed and replaced the pen in the coils. Back it went into his pocket, and he got to his feet. "I think it's just rain now."

"I'll come do the evening feeding tonight," Steele said.

"I can help too," Tag said. "Opal's off the farm."

"Take the night to yourself then," Steele said. "If I need help, I'll text you."

Tag wasn't going to argue with that, so he simply nodded. They went out the front door of the barn, because the back one couldn't be locked from the outside. That meant Tag had to walk around the barn in the rain. It wasn't exactly pouring, and the drops felt thicker than regular water as they landed on the brim of his hat, his shoulders, and his boots.

"Slush," Steele said with disgust. "There's slush falling from the sky."

"Gonna be snow soon enough," Tag said. "I'll text Gerty with where we are when I get to my cabin. Do you want to come over for dinner? Pizza night."

"Sure," Steele said.

"Max, go to the farmhouse," Tag said. The shepherd looked at him, and Tag nodded over to the house. "Go on. They'll let you in."

Max whined and barked, but he ran toward the kitchen entrance on the side of the house. He barked and barked, and he'd definitely get let in that way.

Tag walked with Steele and Boots back to his cabin in silence, and as Tag went up his steps, Steele finally added, "See you in an hour."

"Yep." Tag followed Boots into his cabin and closed the door against the weather behind him. He sighed in the silence of his house, in the way he felt so safe here, in how different his life here was from other places he'd been.

"Dear Jesus," he whispered into the silence. "I don't know why it makes me nervous to have Opal build a house here. But I want her to be happy, so please, bless her that her path toward this house will be open and clear."

His furnace blew, and Tag found he didn't need to ask God for more. So he shed his jacket in the kitchen and hung it by the back door to dry. Then he went down the hall to shower away the cold, the noise, the worry, believing that no matter what came next, he had God on his side, and he'd be able to cope.

"With God…and Opal?" he murmured to himself, and that alone told him how intertwined he'd allowed his life to become with hers. How much he wanted his life to be intertwined with hers. And how much rode on the upcoming Valentine's Day dinner and the building of Opal's house.