Georgia's Gamble [A Historical Fiction Novel; The Pratt Chronicles Book 1]

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Benjamin Tucker

The sun was still high when I decided to take a walk around the ranch, hoping to clear my head after the bustling morning. The incident with the stable hand and Miss Pratt left me a little dumbfounded, and that was a rare occurrence. As I wandered through the grounds, I found myself heading towards the stables, drawn by the familiar sight of Frontier King's stall.

When I arrived, I noticed that the stable was unusually quiet. The only sound was the gentle rustle of hay and the soft, rhythmic noises of a horse. I peeked inside and spotted Miss Pratt herself, her back turned to me as she busily tacked up Frontier King. She was dressed in a comfortable dress that flowed gracefully with every movement, paired with rugged boots and a cowboy hat perched on her head. Her hair tumbled down her back in gentle waves, the way it did the previous night.

I watched her for a moment, admiring the ease with which she worked. There was something about the way she interacted with Frontier King that was both captivating and calming. I cleared my throat, making my presence known. "Well, well, if it isn't Miss Pratt. I didn't expect to find you here."

She turned around, her expression shifting from surprise to a playful smile. "Mr. Tucker. Fancy meeting you here. I suppose you've come to check on Arlo and I?"

"Indeed," I said, stepping further into the stable. "I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the great horse in action. Seems like you're quite the expert with him." And I was struggling to tame the untameable.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Tucker," Georgia teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I appreciate the sentiment. I'm just preparing to take Arlo out for a trail ride with my cousin Katelyn. Thought it might be a nice break from the ranch work."

"Well, that sounds like a delightful outing," I said, leaning casually against the stable door. "Though I must admit, I'm a bit envious. I haven't had the chance to explore the trails around here yet." Mostly because I was working.

"You're welcome to join us," Georgia offered, a hint of challenge in her voice. "Though you might have to keep up with us. Katelyn and I have been known to set quite a pace."

"I'm up for the challenge," I said with a confident grin. "Just be warned, I'm not one to back down from a good race."

Georgia's smile widened. "A race, huh? You're on. But if you lose, you'll owe me a favour. Deal?"

"Deal," I agreed, extending my hand for a shake. "And if I win, you owe me a dance." I'd been dying to dance with her since that night of the social.

The memory of that night flickered through my mind like an old film reel—her dress swaying with every step, the way her laughter carried through the air, light and sweet like a summer breeze. I had watched her from across the room, wanting nothing more than to pull her close, to feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine. But the moment had slipped away, lost in the sea of other dancers and the polite conversations that kept us apart.

Now, the thought of holding her in my arms made my heart beat faster, anticipation and longing mixing together in a heady rush. I imagined the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips, the way her hand would fit perfectly in mine. There was something electric in the idea of her moving with me, her body following mine in time to the music, our breaths mingling in the space between us. It wasn't just the dance I wanted—it was the connection, the closeness. To know what it felt like to have her so near that I could catch the scent of her hair, feel the curve of her waist as my hand rested on her back, guiding her through each step.