I nodded, jaw tight. “I was thinking about asking him.”
He didn’t respond, just slowly lowered Whiskey’s hoof and stood. Turned to face me, eyes narrowed under the brim of his worn-out hat.
“You want to leave?”
I shrugged, looking away. “I think it’s best.”
“Is it?” Gray asked softly. “Or is this about Matty?”
I stiffened.
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Hudson,that boy’s got a temper on him, sure. Stubborn like his mama. But he means well. And don’t take what he says to heart. He runs hot when he’s hurtin’.”
I didn’t answer.
Gray stepped closer. “I don’t know what happened between you two. I got my guesses, but that’s none of my business. What’s my business is this ranch. And you’re a damn good hand. Ivy’s a joy to have around. She fills Ozzie’s days so he’s not bored. It would be my loss—hell, the ranch’s loss—if you left.”
That knot in my throat tried to strangle me again. I bent to check the tool bag, just to have something to do.
“But,” he said, voice gentler now, “if you’re set on going… if you think Lawson’s better for you and Ivy, then I’ll write him a recommendation myself. Glowing.”
I nodded once. I hadn’t made a decision yet, but maybe I should be less selfish about staying at the Bristle M. Matty would probably heal faster if I weren’t constantly an eyesore.
A shadow passed over us, and we both looked up. One of the hands was approaching from the barn. Gray tipped his hat forward and cleared his throat.
“We can talk some other time,” he said. “Let’s finish the back hooves before it gets any hotter.”
“Yeah.” I grabbed the rasp again. “Sounds good.”
My mind drifted as Gray returned to the horse’s hoof. Whiskey snorted hard, jerking against the reins. His muscles bunched under his coat, twitchy and agitated. I murmured softly, trying to settle him.
Whiskey snapped his leg back in a violent, lightning-fast kick.
The sound it made when it connected with Gray’s head was sickening, like a branch splitting. Gray went downinstantly, crumpling sideways into the dirt with a grunt that cut off into silence.
“Shit—Gray!”
Instinct kicked in. I yanked the reins firmly and backed Whiskey away, muscles tight and trembling under his coat. He was agitated now, stomping and snorting like he didn’t even know what he’d done. I kept my voice low and steady, talking him down as I led him to the fence and tied him off with a quick-release knot. Safe. Out of the way.
Then I sprinted back to Gray.
He was on his side, one hand twitching slightly, blood trailing from above his ear, soaking into the dirt. His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.
“Gray?” I dropped to my knees. “Hey, Gray, can you hear me?”
He groaned, but it sounded wrong—wet and weak and barely there.
Boots thundered behind me.
“What the hell happened?” Warren, breathless, skidded to a stop.
“Horse kicked him. Hard. In the head.”
Clayton arrived a second later, eyes wide. “Shit. We should take him to the clinic.”
“Help me keep him still. Warren, get the truck.”
Clayton crouched beside me while Warren took off running again, yelling.
