Ross turned to Jubal as Susan walked swiftly toward what was obviously the stable. “Does she ever slow down?” he asked.
“Not that I’ve noticed. Josh calls her Wonder Woman. Nearly every veteran who comes here falls in love with her, regardless of their age. All she offers is friendship but that’s still a gift.”
“I take it that’s a warning, but it’s not necessary,” Ross said. “I avoid mixing pleasure with business. I like her. In fact, I’m in awe of her, but that is as far as it goes.”
Jubal just raised an eyebrow, then said, “Speaking of irresistible women, come and meet my wife. She’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
Once they were inside a comfortable living room, a tall fine-looking woman entered the room. Jubal put an arm around her. “Ross, meet Lisa. She’s a doctor and the brains behind the program. Also cook and bottle washer. She’s been in the kitchen making a giant salad for the cookout tonight. The vets are doing the rest.”
Ross nodded. Lisa Pierce was an attractive woman with expressive dark brown eyes. The former SEAL had married well. Lisa gave him a blinding smile. “I’m delighted to meet you. You’re the glue we need to get this thing going.”
“Glue?”
“We have horses. We have good trainers and riding instructors. One of them is a national champion women’s barrel racer. Now that we’re open, we’re getting interest from the VA and some sponsors. What we don’t have is a physical therapist to help us with the conditioning and tell us what not to do.”
“I’m just here temporarily,” Ross replied but softened it with a wry smile. “I think it’s great what you’re doing here,” he added, although he was beginning to think Covenant Falls was a Venus flytrap for veterans.
“Gotcha,” Jubal said, but Ross thought he saw a gleam in his eyes. He was having none of it. Two weeks max. Not one day longer.
Lisa left them and during the next hour, Jubal talked about the program and where he wanted to take it.
“Luke’s more like a father than a partner. He’s in his seventies but he has more energy than someone half his age. Between the two of us,” he continued, “we have twenty-five trained riding horses. Eighteen are designated for the veteran program. The others are for our personal use or, in Luke’s case, breeding. We started with twelve vets, grew to fourteen today. We want to go to sixteen, including the physically impaired. The program is six weeks long, the last week being a weeklong trail trip into the mountains.”
Ross found himself impressed with what the former SEAL had accomplished in the twelve months since they’d started planning New Beginnings.
“The program is based on research prepared by Travis Hammond, former army major and another army friend of Josh’s,” Jubal said. “He’s a high school coach here now and helps out when he can.” Jubal picked up a thick notebook and handed it to Ross. “He visited a number of existing programs and gave us options. It’s all in there.”
Ross looked at the book dubiously. “No electronic format?”
“We have an official version online but the notebook includes personal handwritten notes about individuals,” he said. “A lot of it is private, and to tell you the truth we don’t have the electronic expertise to ensure the privacy of individuals. This will give you more of a feel for what Travis thought about the programs he saw and the people he met. His wife’s comments are in there, as well. She’s a reporter and a big fan of the program. I think you’ll find their comments interesting.”
Ross took it, saw the name and blinked. “Travis Hammond? I know him. Has Josh recruited the whole damn unit to help?”
“Just a few of the best,” Jubal replied. “I’m about the only outsider. And maybe Danny. He’s a young amputee who came here with Travis. It’s amazing how riding has helped him gain confidence. He could get a job at any ranch now. If you need anything, and I’m not here, go to him.”
“That’s another goal of ours,” he continued. “We want to create new job possibilities for these guys. After six weeks, they’ll be good horsemen. They will be living, thinking and dreaming horses. That was one of Travis’s recommendations. Create new job avenues as well as rebuild confidence and comradery.” It’s the beginning of the football season and he’s swamped, but he’s going to try to be here tonight. You can ask him questions then.
“The big question,” Jubal continued, “is whether we now need a full-time physical therapist or whether you can help develop a physical therapy program that will work for most of the veterans in the future, one they can take home with them.”
“I like what you’re doing,” Ross said. “Just off the top of my head, at a minimum I think you should have a physical therapist on hand with each new group to assess their PT needs and develop a plan for each one. Be better if he—or she—can return midterm or even more often to reassess their progress.”
Ross hesitated, then continued, “It would be preferable, of course, to have a full-time therapist if the money is available, but I don’t think it’s essential unless you accept severely physically impaired individuals.” Another pause, then he added, “I assume you have psychologists involved.”
“Two,” Jubal said. “One is an army psychologist in Texas. He helped develop the program and recruited a local doc from Pueblo to hold weekly sessions with the guys and be available when necessary.”
Jubal walked over to the window and stared out at the riding ring. “I was a mess when I came here. Josh probably told you some of the story. My body was a wreck after two years of near starvation and chained to a side of a hut or a tree. Not to mention periodic beatings. I no longer qualified physically for the SEALs. I was in a downhill spiral. No place to go. Nowhere to belong. Luke and this town probably saved my life. It did the same for Josh.
My greatest fear now,” he continued, “is moving too fast and causing harm. We need someone to say ‘whoa, you’re moving too fast, or you need more professional help or you’re missing a component.’” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’re all military. We sometimes expect more than we should.”
“I’ll do what I can in the next two weeks,” Ross said, and changed the subject. “What about Susan? What part does she play in this?”
“Organizer. Promoter. She works with the Veterans Administration to identify potential participants. And that’s just the beginning. Give her an idea and she’ll run with it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Interested?”
“Just...curious. Her study was full of books of every type, including a lot of travel books. Made me wonder why she stays in a small town.”
“Her study?” The question came quick.
Ross hurried to explain. “There were no available rooms at the inn when I arrived last night. She offered a room in her house. I might add that Vagabond disapproved, especially when I brought a dog with me.
“Vagabond disapproves of everyone,” Jubal said.
“I take it the entire town feels protective,” he added, “although I doubt she needs it. She warned me that she knew Karate.”
Jubal chuckled. You have that right. She is one of the town’s favorite people and like a sister to most of us vets. Her personal goal is to grow a town where young people can stay and thrive. Until recently there were few opportunities. Now it’s growing, mainly because of her and Andy, a former army surgical nurse who heads our Chamber of Commerce.”
Ross nodded. “As to the program, I’ll do what I can.”
“I admit to hoping you could stay beyond two weeks. You can ride our horses. Explore this area a little. It’s really breathtaking, particularly our falls.”
“Tempting, but I’ve been planning a bike trip up the coast for years. I’ve had to postpone it twice. I promised myself I won’t do it again.”
“We’ll take what we can get,” Jubal said. “Let’s go out to the stables. You can meet some of the vets. Maybe take a ride with a group we’re taking out in an hour.”
“I don’t ride,” Ross said.
“Have you ever?”
“When I was very young,” Ross admitted reluctantly. “I doubt anything stuck.”
“Strangely enough, it does,” Jubal said. “I felt the same. Hadn’t been on a horse since I was seven. Then I sat on Jacko, my horse now, and something clicked. Riding is something you never really forget.” He added, “You’ll understand the program better if you do.”
Ross wanted to say no. Too many bad associations. But hell, they were asking these vets to overcome their demons and apparently riding helped Jubal. Maybe it was time for him to slay some of his memories. “I’ll give it a try.”
Jubal grinned. “Great. I know the perfect horse for you. His name is Cajun. He’s a great riding horse but he’s bigger than the others, which is probably why he wasn’t selected by one of the vets. They get to choose the horse that will stay with them throughout the program.
Ross nodded reluctantly. There was no way he could connect with the guys without sharing some of their experiences, including, he suspected, the aches and pain.
Jubal held out his hand. “Welcome to the gang.”
After delivering Ross to Jubal, Susan headed toward the stables with Hobo in her arms. She didn’t worry about his running away. A tortoise could outrun him with his injury. But she didn’t know what his reaction would be to the horses and new people.
After finding a temporary caretaker for Hobo, she wanted to check on the inn and change into riding clothes now that she was invited to ride with Jubal and a group of the vets. Her to-do list also included a stop at the drugstore—the only store open on Sunday—to pick up a collar and leash for Hobo. She suspected Jubal would keep Ross busy all morning.
She reached the stable, which was fairly quiet this time of day. Today was the first day of actual instruction for this new wave of vets. Yesterday had been spent choosing horses and getting to know them. Grooming had been the first lesson. Grooming and just visiting with their horse.
She’d escaped the inn long enough yesterday to watch the horse selection process. The available horses were gathered in the outdoor riding ring, and each veteran walked among them until magic happened and he or she just seemed to pick each other out. She’d noticed—or someone noticed for her—that shy individuals usually selected shy horses and outgoing ones would select a more active horse.
More than half of the participating vets had little—if any—experience with horses and were apprehensive at first. Once they selected a horse, or a horse picked them, the rider and horse would stay together throughout the length of the program, each day strengthening that first tentative bond. It was their horse and it was the best horse. Each was determined to prove it.
From the moment of selection, the veteran was responsible for feeding, watering, exercising and grooming their horse as long as they stayed. After leaving the program, they were welcome to return to ride the horse, or just visit. Susan thoroughly enjoyed watching the bonds with and pride in their animal grow as each vet first mounted a horse, then learned over the weeks to trot, canter and gallop. Even herd cattle.
But today she had other things to do and, first, was to find a temporary caretaker for Hobo. She saw Scott Wilson, who was feeding his chosen horse a carrot. She’d met Scott when he’d visited the ranch and applied for the program. He’d stayed at the inn that weekend.
He turned toward her when she approached with Hobo. “Whatcha got there, Ms. Hall?”
“It’s Susan, Scott. I don’t answer to ‘Ms.’”
He grinned. “You just did.”
“So I did, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it the next time,” she said. “Do you have an hour or so free?”
“Sure do. I’ve groomed, watered and fed Brandy. “My lesson isn’t until two. I’m just hanging with my girl, here,” he said as he cast a look at a bay horse.
“Could you look after this little guy for about an hour? He belongs to the new physical therapist, who is talking to Jubal. I have some errands to run.”
“Sure. I like dogs. I’ll take care of him like he was my own,” Scott said.
“How did you like the pageant last night?” she asked. All the incoming vets had been invited. Most accepted.
“Liked it a lot,” Scott replied. “Tell you the truth, I didn’t want to go. I heard there would be a large audience and I’m...not comfortable with loud noises, but I was fine with the other guys there.”
“That’s terrific. Maybe next year you can be in it.”
“No. I don’t...”
“I heard you have a good voice. Maybe you’ll sing something tonight at the cookout.”
“I... I don’t know...”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s up to you.” Susan handed the dog over to Scott. “Thanks for looking after Hobo. He’s had a hard time.”
“I sure will, Ms.... I mean Susan.”
Pleased she had broken through his shyness, she hurried out. She could have taken Hobo with her, but she knew how important it was for the vets to take responsibility.
When she arrived at the inn, Mark was back in a chair behind the desk working on the computer. He’d always worked extra hours on Sunday so Judy could go to church with her family.
He was happy to do it since he could study when it was slow.
“All is peaceful,” he said. “Mr. and Mrs. Murray and their friends have decided to stay another day, but they’re out for the day. They decided to do the Jeep trip to the gold mines.”
“Great. Horace will be a happy man. That’s three trips this week. He loves putting on the old-time miner persona.”
“Oh, and we’ve had several new reservations, including the couple you helped last night. They want to come back and do some exploring. They’re also thinking about holding a family reunion here.”
“Wow,” Susan replied. “That paid off.” The reservation more than made up for giving away Ross’s room.
“How does the new group of vets look?” Mark asked.
“Raring to go today, but I wouldn’t want their aches and pains tomorrow.”
He grinned. “I already sympathize.”
She loved that the entire town had taken an interest in New Beginnings. Everyone wanted to help. Maude, who owned the most popular restaurant in town, had promised freshly baked rolls and cakes for tonight’s cookout. Ranchers donated meat. Farmers sent veggies.
“Thanks for filling in today,” she said.
“It’s quiet and I can study. I expect it will stay that way all day.”
When she arrived home, Vagabond complained bitterly about being abandoned. Susan tried to soothe her by running her hands through the cat’s thick fur. Didn’t work. Several pieces of chicken did. All was forgiven.
A coffee cup and one dish had been rinsed and placed in the sink. That and Ross’s jeans and shirt in the dryer were the only reminders of her unexpected visitor last night. She grinned as she recalled the frustrated look on his face amidst the flood in the bathroom. She took his clothes from the dryer and folded them.
She changed from her business clothes into a shirt, jeans and riding boots. Although her family had never owned a horse, this was ranch country and she’d been riding since she was eight. Luke, in fact, had taught her to ride.
She used a touch of lipstick and worked her hair into one long braid as she usually did when riding. She stared at herself in the mirror and tried to see herself as others did. Ordinary dark brown hair. Ordinary blue eyes. Medium height. Medium build. Nothing outstanding or memorable. For a tenth of a second she wondered what type Ross liked; then she pushed the thought back in a box where it belonged. She didn’t care. It was nothing to her.
She had friends, a job she loved, a life that suited her. She’d tried the love thing, and it hadn’t been satisfactory. In truth, it had been a nightmare, and she had no intention of stepping into another one. She’d fought too hard to gain control over her own life.
She refilled Vagabond’s food and water bowls. “Sorry, kiddo,” she said. “Gotta go, but I promise, no visitors tonight.”
She grabbed Ross’s now-clean clothes, then headed to the town drugstore. She would just make it back for the afternoon ride with several of the vets who’d had some riding experience. She wondered whether Ross would ride along, as well.
Or did he not ride anything other than his humongous motorcycle? She didn’t know much about him. She knew he liked dogs, or at least couldn’t leave an injured one. She knew he rode a motorcycle, but not whether he had a car in addition to the bike. She knew he didn’t have a permanent home. On a sudden whim, she used her cell phone to search Ross Taylor, physical therapist.
To her dismay there were a large number of Ross Taylors who were physical therapists. She started running through the list, discarding this one and that one. She visited several websites without success. She finally found a mention of her Ross Taylor through an article with a photo.
She scanned the article. The headline was titled Physical Therapist to the Stars.
Huh!
She knew it was her Ross Taylor by the photo. It was not posed. He was obviously caught by surprise while exiting the home of a popular action film star.
The article mentioned that he wouldn’t talk to reporters but that he apparently had worked with several action stars and stuntmen who’d been injured in films and needed a quick return. The actor’s agent later identified him. The obviously frustrated reporter added in the story that he couldn’t be reached for comment.
She read the article again and did some more searching. Nothing. No website, no other social media. He apparently avoided attention like the plague. There was no question in her mind that those stars paid a lot of money to a physical therapist who didn’t talk to reporters.
One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t be staying long. No wonder he carried so few belongings with him. He could buy new ones wherever he went. It was interesting, she also noted, that Josh hadn’t given her more details. But then Josh had always been a man of few words. He probably figured it was none of anyone’s business.
And, she told herself, it certainly wasn’t hers.
But it definitely added another side to Ross Taylor and made it even more apparent that she should avoid him like the plague. His lifestyle was definitely not hers. His patients were wealthy actors rather than those who needed help for everyday living. In Las Vegas, she’d been exposed to stars and glamour and the excess that often went with it. Never again.
Yes, she really did need to avoid him. The problem was Covenant Falls. It was too small not to bump into the same people every day. Not only that, he was staying in her inn and working in a place that meant so much to her.
Horse feathers! The old cowboy expression was all she could come up with to express her frustration. She refilled Vagabond’s water and food dishes and hurried out.
After finishing their meeting, which took all morning, Jubal made them both some sandwiches before walking over to the stable area. The smell of smoking meat came from behind the long building Ross now knew was the bunkhouse. Several men were riding horses in the ring as an older woman gave instructions. “That’s Luke’s wife,” Ross explained. “She’s a great instructor. This is first time in the saddle for this group of riders.”
To the left, another group of vets stood next to saddled horses.
Jubal steered him over to them. “This is the group going out now. They all have some previous riding experience,” Jubal said. “Luke and I are taking them on a trail ride to determine how much.”
He introduced Ross to Luke, a tall lean man with thick white hair and a slow smile. Luke shook his hand. “Good to meet you,” he said. “You were the missing piece.”
Jubal turned to the others and introduced them to Ross. “Sorry I’m late,” Jubal said to the group of veterans. “This is Ross Taylor, physical therapist, friend of Josh’s and ex-Ranger medic. He’ll be joining us for the next two weeks and you’ll all have sessions with him. He’ll work you hard, but he’s a good man to have around.”
As Jubal introduced them, Ross shook the hand of each of the budding riders, including the woman. Kate was thin. Her eyes looked hollow. But she summoned up a half smile.
“I’m taking Ross to the stables,” Jubal told the riders. “You go on. We’ll catch up with you.
Having no logical excuse to delay, Ross walked with Jubal into the stables. It was the moment Ross dreaded. The scent of hay stirred memories he’d tried to suppress: the body swinging from a rope attached to a support beam in the barn, the anxious whinnying of horses that sensed something was wrong. It was the night his childhood ended. That night—and the aftermath—haunted him for years and became even more real when he entered a barn or stable.
He’d had flashbacks from his army days as well, particularly when there was a sudden bright light or the sound of loud thunder that could have been rocket fire, but they didn’t bring back the horror of that barn.
He clenched his fists and followed Jubal into the barn, willing himself to ignore the images that swept through him as he walked past a line of stalls. He’d feared it would happen when he accepted Jubal’s offer, but he hadn’t been able to refuse. He knew the hell of PTSD, the inability to fit back into a civilian community that didn’t, couldn’t, begin to understand PTSD or the loss of a close band of comrades who shared years of life and death experiences.
But damn, maybe it was time to face some of those demons as Josh and the others were asking these veterans to do.
“Anything wrong?” Jubal’s voice broke through the flashback.
Had he been that transparent? “No,” he lied.
Ross was grateful Jubal didn’t ask more questions. Instead, Jubal led the way into the tack room. Twenty or so saddles sat on racks along the walls. Bridles hung above them.
Hobo barked from where he sat beside a young man who was polishing a saddle, then limped over to Ross while making little crying noises.
“You must be Mr. Taylor,” the young man said as he stood. “I’m Danny. I took over this little guy for you.”
Ross nodded. “Make it Ross,” he said. “How has Hobo been doing?”
“I think he’s been looking for you,” Danny said. “Every time someone comes in, he stands and looks, then his head droops and he sits again, never taking his eyes from the door.”
Probably thought he had been abandoned again. Ross knew that feeling.
He picked Hobo up and rubbed his ears. The darn dog was getting to him. He hadn’t had a dog since that last night in the family barn. He’d learned in succeeding years not to get attached to people or animals.
Jubal apparently didn’t notice his distraction or, if he did, chose not to mention it. “Hi, Danny,” he said, then turned back to Ross. “I told you about him. He’s on staff. He’s worked here since the beginning. If you need anything, ask him. He knows all the horses, all the volunteers and where everything is. He even helped build the bunkhouse.”
“Thanks for taking care of this guy,” Ross said while rubbing Hobo’s ears.
“He’s a good dog,” Danny said.
“Can you keep him a bit longer?” Jubal asked Danny. “I want to show Ross the stable.”
“Sure,” the young man said. “Hobo and I are friends.”
Ross handed Hobo back to the young man. He followed Jubal through the door to the stall area and down the aisle past several horses until they reached the next to last one. A handsome buckskin stuck his head out and nuzzled Jubal.
“This is Jacko,” Jubal said. “I wanted you to meet him. He’s responsible for all this. When I stopped in Covenant Falls to see a friend, I was in a bad way. While running one day, I saw some horses grazing and stopped at the fence to watch. Jacko came over to the fence and we were instant buddies. Luke appeared and we started talking. He asked if I wanted to ride Jacko. When I got onto the saddle, I felt at peace with myself for the first time in years. I started to feel I might have a future.”
He ran a callused hand down Jacko’s neck. “Luke’s neighbor wanted to retire to be near their kids. I’d accumulated a lot of pay during the years I was held captive, and I bought his ranch. I had a lot of learning to do, but Luke helped. So did the entire Covenant Falls community. Now I have a wife and two great stepkids along with Jacko. I’ll always be grateful to him.” He paused. “That’s why this program is so important to me. I don’t know if I would have discovered a future without him.
“I don’t expect that to happen to everyone else,” he continued, “or even a few. We can only hope it opens new possibilities and gives them ways to cope with some of the problems.” He gave Ross a half smile. “Now let me introduce you to Cajun.”
Jacko picked that moment to nuzzled Jubal until he received a carrot.
Jubal’s cell phone rang and he answered it. “We’re at the stables,” he told the caller. “Can you come over here and help show Ross around? Maybe get him on a horse and meet us at the pond.”
Some of the tension in Ross’s body drained away as Jubal hung up and turned to him. “That was Susan on the phone. She just arrived. Are you ready to join us on the ride?” He didn’t wait for an answer and added, “I should catch up with the group, but Danny can get you started with Cajun and then Susan will take over.”
Ross hesitated.
Jubal seemed not to notice. “Susan’s a good rider and teacher.”
Before Ross could reply, Jubal disappeared down the aisle with his horse, leaving Ross thinking black thoughts about the former SEAL. Dammit, he’d been had. Maybe Jubal had sensed his reluctance. Ross hadn’t wanted to explain it wasn’t the horse he feared. It was the memories.
But wasn’t that what this program was all about?
A minute later, Danny appeared with a saddle pad tucked under his arm and a brush in his hand. “Jubal asked me to help you saddle Cajun. He sure is a good horse. He’s my favorite. Real easygoing. Nothing ruffles him.”
“Where’s Hobo?” Ross asked.
“He’s in the tack room. Not to worry. The door is closed. I’ll get him when Susan gets here.”
“You’re in this, too,” Ross accused him. He was beginning to feel smothered by expectations he’d never anticipated. The plan had been simple. Stay for two weeks or less and make physical therapy recommendations. It certainly hadn’t included riding a horse.
“In what, sir?” Danny asked with real puzzlement in his voice.
It had been years since someone had called him “sir.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Ross said wryly.
Danny put the saddle pad on the stall door. “I’ll look after Hobo while you’re gone,” he said. He added with awe, “He sure is attached to you. He hardly moved until he saw you.”
Great! That was all he needed to hear.
“Anything wrong?” the young man asked.
Everything. He had a dog he didn’t want, a horse he didn’t want to ride and an attraction to a woman he had no business being attracted to. But he couldn’t very well admit any of that. He shrugged. “No, just haven’t ridden since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,” he said. The words popped out. One of his father’s favorite expressions. How? Why? He hadn’t thought of it in years.
But then waves of memories were washing through him. The night. The next day. The next year. The succeeding years. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them. This barn wasn’t anything like the old one that haunted him. This was new and military clean, at least as clean as a barn could be. His family’s barn had been old and full of years of smells.
The young veteran slipped a halter on the horse, who neighed and tossed his head as Danny led him out of the stall. He was a chestnut and taller than the other horses he’d seen.
“He’s pleased,” Danny said.
“How can you tell?”
“You just get to know after a while. He’s a social horse. He likes to go out with the others. Danny handed him a brush. “Brush his back before you put the pad on. You don’t want anything there that will irritate him while riding. Then you can pick out a saddle in the tack room.”
“Sounds good.” Ross tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. Anything to get the images from his mind. “Jubal tells me you’re irreplaceable,” He said as he started brushing the horse and tried to ignore the sounds of horses munching or moving in their stalls.
The young man blinked, then broke out in a grin. “Thank you, sir.”
“Not me who said it,” Ross said, “and there you go with the ‘sir’ thing. We’re not in the army now, and tell that to the others. It’s Ross for everyone. And it’s Jubal who thinks so highly of you. I don’t think he says things like that lightly.”
“You knew him when he was in the SEALs?” Danny asked.
“Nope. I was a medic in the Rangers with Josh Manning. I left years before he did.”
Ross turned back to brushing Cajun’s back, hoping the action would tamp down memories. He’d saddled horses before. He’d stood on a stool and tossed a saddle over his horse, but the horse and saddle were much smaller then...
He finished brushing Cajun and placed the saddle pad in place. Danny, he noted, had left. Cajun nudged him, wanting something in return for his cooperation. Ross ran his hand down Cajun’s neck, and the horse nickered back in appreciation.
Ross smiled and leaned against the horse. He’d forgotten how good it felt. Just being with the horse dissipated the lingering shadows inside him. He was beginning to understand the power of the Horses for Heroes programs.
“I sense the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
He turned around. Susan stood there, looking thoughtful.
“You two were communing,” she said. “Hate to interrupt but we’re supposed to catch up with Luke and Jubal. Jubal certainly picked the right horse for you. I’m glad it’s Cajun.”
“Why?” he asked suspiciously. Darn, but she was pretty in a tan shirt and snug jeans. Her brown hair was pulled back in a neat braid.
“I think it hurt his feelings that no one wanted him,” she said. “It’s his size. It’s intimidating for most new riders but just right for you. He’s a big softie.”
He considered that. Did she mean he was a softie, too? None of his patients thought so.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ll pick out a saddle for you.”
They took Cajun with them toward the tack room and hitched him just outside. Ross looked at the row of saddles on the racks lining the room. Susan went right to a large one and turned. They bumped into each other and his arms went around her to steady her. He caught the gentle whiff of a light flowery scent and their gazes met and held. Damn but her eyes were a fine shade of blue.
For a whisper of time she leaned against him and he had the oddest feeling that she belonged there. But then she pulled away and turned back to the saddle, and he knew he was wrong. She wasn’t like the other women he dated. Her commitment to the town and this program was obvious as was the community’s obvious affection for her. A fling would never be enough.
“I think this will do,” she said in a voice that sounded a bit shaky.
Well, he felt a little shaky, too. “Here,” he said. “I’ll take it.” He needed to get out of the room and into fresh air.
He carried the saddle to where Cajun waited patiently. Ross placed it over the saddle pad, then tightened and buckled the cinch as Susan watched.
“How did I do, Teach?” he asked, making his tone light.
“You didn’t need help, after all,” she said suspiciously. “How long did you say it’s been since you rode?”
“Too many years to count,” he replied and then added with a deadpan expression, “But I watch a lot of Westerns, and I know you mount from the left. Or is it the right?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What about the bridle?”
“Oops,” he said with his most charming grin. “You mean I can’t steer with a halter?”
She gave him a dour look.
“Okay, bridle it is,” he assured her.
Under her watchful eyes, he removed the halter and placed the bridle she handed him over Cajun’s ears. The horse tried to avoid the bit and closed his mouth tight as Ross’s hand neared his mouth—just as Bandit had. Memories again. These damn memories.
“Ross?”
Susan’s voice snapped him back. His fingers were on the bit but they weren’t moving. He breathed slowly again, then saw her concerned face. He took a deep breath and tried again to ease the bit into Cajun’s mouth. This time the horse cooperated.
She simply nodded. “Looks good.”
Thank God she didn’t ask questions, just walked ahead.
He looked down at his hands. There was still a tremor in them. But he’d succeeded. At one time, he’d thought he could never go near a barn or stables again. Well, he’d made it this far.
“You can wait outside and make friends with Cajun while I saddle Brandy,” she said. “She’s Lisa’s horse, but she shares her with me.”
“Can’t I help?”
“Nope. I’ve been doing it since, well, for a long time, and she knows me. Take a carrot or two, and Cajun will be your friend for life.”
He did as ordered. He respected competence and she certainly had that. A lot more in horse care than he did. He led Cajun outside, grabbing a carrot from the bucket as he did. He looked ahead as Cajun happily chomped on the treat and nudged him for more. Cajun nudged him again.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he said. “You have to wait until we get back. Right now we’re waiting for Susan and your friend. Brandy is your friend, isn’t she? Noncommittal, huh? Good position. Never reveal your cards.” He ran his hand over the horse’s shoulder. He’d been taught that by his father.
Cajun gave him a horse grin and nudged his chest.
“Okay.” Susan’s voice came from behind him. He turned and watched her approach. “Stop mooning with each other,” she said. “We’re running late.”
Cajun nodded his head as if agreeing. Or maybe it was just a greeting.
“Can he understand English?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Sometimes I wonder, but I think it’s because he’s eager to go.”
“Are we too late to catch up?” he asked.
“We don’t have to,” she replied. “They’ll either be at the pond or on their way back, and we’ll meet them.”
He turned and looked at her. No businesswoman now. Riding gloves peeked out of her jeans’ pocket, and her riding boots were old and scuffed. She looked all cowgirl.
“I’m playing hooky from the inn,” she said. “The last few weeks were really busy, and now I intend to relax and enjoy being part of this. I love seeing these guys start to unwind. Wait until tonight. They’ll probably be a little sore, but they’ve survived the first two days and there’s usually music and fun.”
She swung up into the saddle, and he followed, wondering whether he would make a damn fool out of himself. Then he settled himself into the saddle and hoped Jubal was right about people never forgetting how to ride.