Chapter One
Horses. They were what I knew. What I’d grown up knowing, riding, grooming, tacking in the small Alberta town where I’d lived.
I missed small-town life. Ottawa wasn’t a huge city, but it was big enough, crowded enough, it made me crave the peace and quiet of a smaller life.
My friend Mitchell hadn’t told me much about the Braided Crop Ranch except to say the place was secluded deep in the heart of the Muskokas in Northern Ontario, which turned out to be an understatement.
From my calculations I was only about twenty minutes away, but the brush had thickened, and the GPS wasn’t making sense. There wasn’t even a proper road. Out of desperation, I pulled my car over to the gravel on the side of the dirt track. I left the car on, air conditioner blasting, while I looked up the name of the man who’d interviewed me over the phone: a Mr. Adam Marsland. I found the number quickly in my contacts and hit call.
“BCR, Connor speaking,” a chipper male voice announced after a few rings.
The voice didn’t belong to Mr. Marsland.
“Uh,” I hesitated. “Hi. I’m trying to reach Adam Marsland?”
“Who’s calling, please?”
I cleared my throat, feeling like an idiot. Nothing like starting a new job and not being able to find the place. “This is Jensen Moriarty. I’m supposed to be there at noon, but I—”
“Oh, hi, Jensen. I’m Mr. Marsland’s personal assistant. Would you like me to get him for you?”
“I just need directions. My GPS isn’t making sense.”
Connor laughed. “He should have told you not to rely on the GPS. You should be using the map from the email.”
Email? “What email?”
There was a pause. “You didn’t get the welcome email? The one outlining our policies and practices? I’m sure I sent the form to you a few days ago…”
I wracked my brain but didn’t remember seeing an email. Unless the message had gone into my spam folder. “No, I didn’t get it. A map would be…helpful.”
“Sure, yeah, let me text the map to you. Hold on a second.”
“You might as well text me the other info as well.”
Connor cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’ll let Mr. Marsland explain everything when you get here.”
I heard a notification and saw the map had come through. I opened the file quickly and had a look.
“Looks like I’m not too far.”
“Okay, come to the main building when you get here. You’ll see the BCR sign on the wall.”
“BCR?” I asked, wiping a crushed mosquito off the dash.
“The Braided Crop Ranch. That is where you’re trying to get to, right?”
“Yes. I just— Yes, that’s where I’m headed.” God, could I make a worse first impression?
“I’ll make sure Adam is here to greet you.”
“Thanks,” I said.
As I’d suspected, I wasn’t far out. If I followed this dirt road and turned onto another called Rattler’s Revenge in about three miles, I’d be there.
Would they put me to work right away, cleaning stalls and looking after the horses? Mr. Marsland hadn’t described my exact duties during our phone interview, but Mitchell had said they were looking for a stable hand.
Marsland had seemed like a nice guy. He’d appeared more interested in the kind of person I was rather than in any experience I’d had. I’d explained I needed a job that would give me some direction along with a decent salary so I could pay off my student loans.
