Allie stepped into the barn before Clay. Sunshine streamed in through the windows and the air vents until there were rectangular blocks of light throughout the barn. The smell of sweet hay mingled with that of horse. None of the Appaloosas turned to look at Allie and Clay when they walked farther into the barn, but Allie noticed the goat, Billy Boy, stood next to the stallion and gave them a warning bleat.
“We’re harmless,” Allie said to the goat.
Billy Boy dipped his head, but didn’t make another sound.
Allie let the silence surround her as she watched Clay walk toward the animals. When he came to one of the mares, he held his hand out.
“Easy now,” he whispered as he ran his hand along the mare’s spotted flank.
Allie could sense how much Clay liked being with the horse. Chocolate-brown splotches mixed with the light cream of the animal’s coat.
Clay looked over the horses back to the water trough and turned to Allie. “Looks like the pump is working.”
Allie nodded. She felt like she had come home in a way that she hadn’t felt in years. The Nelson ranch had always had horses. Even though she didn’t like the way her father had done things, she couldn’t be sorry that these horses were here.
She walked over to a different mare from the one Clay had claimed. She made sure she was on the right side of the mare so the animal could see her out of the one eye that seemed to be working.
Allie ran her fingers across the sway in the back of the young mare. The horse backed away and nickered a little. Allie took her hands off the animal and waited until the mare came close again. Allie rested her hand on the mare’s back this time without moving it. She could feel the nervous tension in the horse.
“Easy,” she murmured as she started to stroke the horse again. A riot of gray spots covered the white coat of this one. She had always liked Appaloosas; they were like some impressionistic painting hanging in a museum. They used to be the horse favored by the Plains Native Americans, too, so they were in their share of famous artwork.
“Those spots on her look like smoke going up a chimney,” Clay commented to Allie as he studied the horse she was working with. “Wonder what her name is.”
“The only information in the paperwork about the horses are numbers,” Allie answered. “The horses were stock, not pets. I doubt they have names.”
“Even the goat has a name,” Clay said. “I can’t see calling the horses by numbers.”
“They were part of a larger herd,” Allie said. “No one names a hundred horses. But for these, it’s going to change.” Allie stroked the mare’s neck. “Isn’t that right, Zee Zee?”
Clay looked over at Allie in surprise. “I figured you’d go with something like Spot. You know, an animal’s name. Zee Zee sounds like a rock star.”
Allie pointed to the mare’s neck. “Doesn’t that cluster of spots form a Z?”
Clay nodded. “Close enough.”
“Besides, she’s a classy lady,” Allie added as the mare finally turned to her and nuzzled her hand. “One who expects a little sugar now and then.”
Clay was silent as Allie kept petting the mare’s neck. Finally, she looked over at him. He was staring at her like he was puzzling over something.
“What?” she said.
“I always wondered what a classy lady would want,” Clay said with a wry twist to his mouth. He had walked closer and no longer stood by the mare he’d singled out earlier.
Allie felt her mouth go dry. She worked so many hours in Jackson Hole that she didn’t date. She was, however, used to men flirting with her. That seemed a perennial problem for any woman who worked in the ski resorts. She’d handle this the same way she would if she were on the job.
“What do ladies want?” Allie stopped stroking the horse. More sunshine was coming into the barn, but it was still dim enough for the barn to feel intimate. She waited an extra moment to be sure she had his attention. “Most of the ones I know want someone to clean up around the house.”
Clay grinned. “I thought it was diamonds.”
“That, too,” Allie said, flashing him a cocky look. She was relieved he had been teasing.
“Well, that leaves me out,” Clay said then as he started walking to the barn’s door. The wood floor echoed with each step of his boots.
Allie fell into step with him as he passed. She wore tennis shoes and she made no sound.
She told herself she had handled that well. She supposed it was only natural that she and Clay would flirt with each other a little until they found their rhythm again. They had both grown up since they had been friends before. Their lives had changed. Yet some of their teasing still seemed to be in place.
As Clay reached for the barn door handle, Allie decided she might as well ask the question she wanted answered.
“But how about you?” she said. “What is it that you want? I mean, with your girlfriend.”
He hadn’t mentioned any woman, but Mark always said Clay had women coming on to him all the time. She’d spent her sixteenth year jealous of phantom girls who she never knew even existed. It wasn’t wrong, she told herself, to want to know if her old friend had a connection with someone.
Clay stopped and considered a moment. Then he turned and looked directly at her. The dim light in the barn darkened the blue in his eyes. His lips quirked slightly, and he reached out to gently touch her cheek. She parted her lips as he trailed his finger down her cheek until it rested near her lips. He leaned downward in slow motion, and she arched up on her tiptoes.
He kissed her, and Allie felt the warmth of it curl inside her. It was the gentlest kiss she’d ever had, scarcely more than a brush of his lips, but she didn’t want it to end.
Clay rested his forehead against hers for a few moments before eventually pulling away.
“All I want is for someone to trust me,” he whispered. “To believe me and know what I say is true.”
“Oh.” Allie knew then that this had also been the saddest kiss she’d ever had.
“I’m not sure if I’ve met her yet or not,” he whispered.
“I can’t choose you over Mark.” She felt a moment’s anger that he would ask that of her, and then she remembered she had been the one to bring up the question.
“I’m sorry,” she added.
“So am I,” he answered.
He pulled away then, and they stood there looking at each other.
She knew without asking that he would not compromise on this point. They were on opposite sides here.
Clay finally moved to open the door, and they walked out of the barn. The midmorning sun had warmed everything outside. The snow was melting, and that made it even harder to put one foot in front of the other.
Sometimes, Allie told herself, a woman had to stick with her family even if her heart wished she could believe something improbable. That was part of being a grown-up. Things did not always go the way one wanted. That night could not have happened the way Clay remembered. But he’d been tried and convicted of armed robbery. The court might have some doubt that Clay was the one who planned the holdup, but for the past four years, Allie had refused to believe her brother had been the one to do so. Clay had to be the one most at fault. If only Clay would admit it, she could forgive him.