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“Jo said he needs regular workouts.”
“That he will, especially now that the Derby is approaching.”
Cheyenne spun back to face him again. “The Derby? At Churchill Downs?”
Brooks laughed. “That’d be the one, kid.”
Cheyenne beamed, her eyes skittering over to Jo. “Can I ride him? Will you show me how? Brooks said I’m a fast learner. I could learn so f—”
“Whoa, there,” Jo said, holding up a hand. “If you want to get anywhere near that thoroughbred, you need to learn the basics first.”
Cheyenne smirked. “What basics? Throw on a saddle and hop on?”
“The basics that involve Another Round’s daily care,” Jo said patiently. “As in checking for potential health issues, bathing and brushing him, learning his likes and dislikes, his personality and—”
“His personality?” Cheyenne tilted her head. “You talk like he’s a person.”
Jo’s brows rose. “Not at all. Horses are better than people in my opinion. They have their own standards and expectations, which don’t change depending on who’s around them, and they’re always honest about how they feel.”
Cheyenne turned her head and gazed at Another Round, a new, curious light in her eyes.
“The position of groom is a great place to start,” Brooks said, glancing at Jo. “From what I’ve been told, Jo’s not only a fantastic trainer but she was the best groom on the backside, too.”
“The backside?” Cheyenne asked.
“Behind the racetrack and out of the limelight,” Brooks said. “Where the hardest work is done by people whose top priority is to protect and care for horses. A groom dons many hats when caring for a horse—parent, vet, protector—and a good one is the first to know if a horse is not feeling well, has an injury, or is having a bad day.”
“I can do that,” Cheyenne said. “I can take care of him. Will you show me how, Jo?”
Jo returned Cheyenne’s eager stare, her eyes studying the teen’s expression, an almost excited light appearing in her own eyes.
Brooks grinned. Perhaps Jo hadn’t put teaching behind her as completely as she’d thought. “What do you say, Jo? You willing to give her a shot? I’m game to help. Another Round needs a groom and while Cheyenne’s learning the ins and outs, I can have that exercise track of yours cleaned up and leveled for workouts. Then maybe, if Cheyenne performs her duties well, she might graduate to exercise jockey at some point.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jo said, laughing. But she seemed to consider the idea, the tip of her tongue touching one corner of her mouth endearingly as she thought it over. “Cheyenne’s a smart girl,” she said gently, eyeing the teen. “I think she could handle the duties of a groom if she’s willing to be patient and follow directions.”
Cheyenne practically jumped up and down with excitement. “Fantastic! When can I start?”
Jo raised her hand again. “Easy,” she said. “I’m not promising anything. I’m just saying we can give it a try. How does tomorrow morning sound? The sooner we get a routine in place for Another Round, the better.”
Cheyenne contained her excitement—just a tad. “That’ll work,” she said. “First thing?”
“Not exactly the very first thing,” Jo said, smiling. “But after we muck the stalls, yes.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes at the mention of mucking stalls but seemed satisfied with that response. Her gaze sought out Another Round again, an eager but somber expression appearing.
“It’s time y’all had a break.” The back door of the main house opened and Frankie bustled out onto the newly built deck, carrying a large tray stacked with bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, several bags of potato chips, and three large bottles of spring water. “Oh, my.” She glanced around at their handiwork, admiring what they had done. “This is better than I imagined it would be. Earl is going to love it.”
“How’s he doing?” Jo asked, striding across the deck to relieve Frankie of the tray.
“He’s doing very well.” A laugh burst from Frankie’s lips. “Though he’s giving his physical therapist a fit. He’s having Earl start with small exercises and take things slow, and Earl’s champing at the bit to jump out of that wheelchair and hit the ground running.”
“It’s good the therapist is making him take things slow,” Brooks said. “The more time he takes to build his muscles up, the sooner he’ll be able to walk out here on his own without the wheelchair.”
Frankie nodded. “I better get back. I don’t like leaving Earl alone with that physical therapist for too long. He’s a great therapist and we don’t want to scare the guy away right off the bat.” She spun on her heel and headed for the door, calling out over her shoulder, “Y’all eat up. There’s plenty more if you’re still hungry afterward.”
“Break time?” Cheyenne asked, eyeing the sandwiches on the tray Jo held.
“Break time,” Brooks confirmed.
