She moved her hand as if she wanted to touch me on the arm but thought better of it. Probably for the best, since any soft gesture from her would likely hurt one way or another.
“It’s just business.”
“What about the other owners, are they comfortable with a little delay?”
The question of the day. “Seem to be. For now. I can’t predict no one will change their mind in a few weeks.”
She gazed at me a minute, and something soft and tender stretched around inside me. That was one thing I couldn’t have.
“Don’t,” I said, turning to head back into the barn.
“Don’t what?” she asked, keeping pace at my side.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
I stopped to face her. “Like that. Like you’re feeling sorry for me. I’m not the first trainer to get injured by a horse, and I won’t be the last. It happens. It’s not the end of my career.”
“I’ll try to look at you differently, then.”
She had a way of sounding perfectly innocent when she got her sass in.
“Come on. Are you ready for today’s set of chores?”
“Absolutely.”
I led her to the hose on the outside of the barn, where I tried to casually lean against the wall without looking like I needed the rest. I’d done too much to help Jenkins collect his horse and tack, and the effort left my chest aching. Done too much, that was rich. I never thought the day would come when standing around watching while another man did all the work would be too much for me.
“Before we bring the horses in from turn out, we’ve got to get their stalls ready with feed and water.”
“Sounds great.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Her rosy optimism charmed me, even if it proved just how naive she was about what I did. “You pull the water bucket off the stall wall, bring it out here, dump it, scrub it out, and hang it up again. Then drag the hose over and refill it, and don’t get any water in the bedding.”
“I can do that.” She moved away, ready to get started.
“Wait.” I pulled a small bundle out of my back pocket and passed it over to her. “You need these.”
She took the black and tan women’s work gloves like I’d given her a bundle of flowers.
“You bought me gloves?”
I tried to shrug it off but couldn’t move my shoulders like that anymore. “They need to be the proper size if you don’t want your hands to get torn up all over again.”
First thing this morning, I’d gone into town to get them. I’d bought a few new pairs for myself, too, hoping Mike Torres at Ranch and Home wouldn’t notice the smaller pair among the rest. Of course, Mike had noticed, and I’d had to explain that yes, I’d bought them intentionally. For a friend.
A friend who was currently looking up at me with doe eyes.
“That is really…decent of you.”
The praise this woman doled out. “Stop, you’re too kind.”
“I would have said sweet, but I didn’t think you’d like it.”
Oh, I’d like it, all right. Too damn much. “How are your blisters this morning?”
“They’re not so bad. I changed out the bandages, so I think they’ll be all right.” She pulled the gloves on over her hands, flexing her fingers a few times to test them out. It pleased me more than was reasonable to see they were a perfect fit. “Thank you.”
