Craving My British Cowboy novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: Reginald

He told it on the porch steps, plainly, to the cattle.

"My mother's name was Cecily."

His hands were wound together between his knees.

"She kept eleven horses at Pengelly Hall, in a stable on the cliff above the sea."

I did not interrupt.

"I was seventeen when she went out on a young mare in a gale."

"The mare came back without her."

I put my hand on his back.

"My father sat in his study through the funeral," Rex said. "The week after, he had every horse sold."

"Every one?"

"A dealer came with lorries on the Tuesday, and the stable was bare by dark."

"He padlocked the doors."

"I stood in the yard and watched them load her grey."

His voice did not shake, which was worse.

"I said nothing for a year and a half. Then I bought a one-way ticket to Texas and took her old saddle in a kit bag."

"And her name."

"Carew. So he couldn't send people for me."

"He did anyway."

"He's known where I am for four years. He never wrote, never rang." His mouth twisted. "He only paid for things."

"What things?"

"A vet bill I never owed. A winter of hay. Anonymous, he thought."

My stomach turned over.

"And now a pipe on your creek," I said slowly.

"To dry me out, so I'd go home."

"That's insane."

"That's my father."

I was on my feet before I knew it.

I walked across the yard and into the barn, and stood in the middle of it with my hands shaking.

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