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They dug into the BLT sandwiches with gusto, relishing every mouthful as they sat on the edge of the deck and dangled their legs off the side. Cheyenne sat between Brooks and Jo, and the three of them gazed at the horses as they milled about in the pasture.
“How much more do we have to do?” Cheyenne asked between bites of her sandwich.
Brooks shielded his eyes and glanced up. The sun had dipped lower toward the horizon but there was plenty of daylight left. Enough so that they might be able to finish the ramp by dark.
“Oh, we’ve gotten the worst part of it out of the way,” he said. “If we get started as soon as we finish eating, we should be able to knock out the rest by dark.” He glanced over at Jo, who drank deeply from a bottle of water. “This time tomorrow, Earl will be sitting out here, watching the horses, and feeling the sun on his face.”
Jo set the bottle of water on the deck, leaned back on her hands, and smiled, meeting his eyes. “Thank you so much for this, Brooks.”
Brooks held her gaze and smiled back. His hand, resting on the deck behind him only a couple feet from hers, itched to reach out and glide along her soft cheek. But he refrained, choosing instead to admire her smile and savor the warmth in her voice.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered.
They sat there for almost an hour, admiring the view, soaking up the warm sun and the cool fall breeze, and watching the horses amble about the pasture.
Then Cheyenne, still gazing at the horses, whispered, “I kinda like this.”
Brooks glanced at her somber expression. “You like what?”
Cheyenne looked down at the empty sandwich wrapper and bottle in her hand, then sneaked a shy glance at him and Jo. “The horses, food, drink, and work. Being here with y’all.” She peered ahead, her gaze fixed on the dancing leaves of the oak trees that bordered his property in the distance. “I like not being alone.”
“Yeah.” Brooks studied her, then Jo, seated by his side. Watched the way they studied the peaceful view before them in the comforting stillness. “So do I.”
* * *
It was amazing how one thoroughbred could change everything.
Jo stood in the pasture behind the main house at Lone Oaks Crossing and smiled at the chestnut colt standing in front of her. “Whatcha think, baby boy? You feel up to meeting someone new today?”
Another Round dipped his head and nudged her shoulder. His nose worked overtime, sifting through the unfamiliar scents floating on the fall air of his new home.
“You all right over there, Cheyenne?” Jo asked, eyeing the teen as she slowly walked across the grass to join them.
“Yeah.” Cheyenne’s eyes remained fixed on Another Round. “Will he . . . um, bite?”
Jo shrugged. “I can’t tell you with one hundred percent certainty what he will or won’t do. Horses have a mind of their own. Likes and dislikes. Preferences. If one of us were to do something he didn’t like, he might very well nip. But if you’re respectful of his space and comfort level, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
Cheyenne listened intently to her words, but the eager excitement she’d displayed yesterday afternoon about becoming Another Round’s groom had faded overnight—or at least, once she had come face-to-face with the thoroughbred.
Jo didn’t blame her. Horses could be intimidating to a lot of people, especially if they hadn’t had prior experience with them. But despite her obvious worries, Cheyenne had seemed more than willing to embark on the new adventure of learning to groom the thoroughbred.
After they’d finished building the wheelchair ramp yesterday evening, Brooks had said his goodbyes and returned home, leaving Jo and Cheyenne to join Frankie and Earl for dinner, then retire for the night. Jo had been anxious to show the new deck and wheelchair ramp to Earl, but his eyes had grown heavy at the kitchen table during dinner, and it had become obvious that he would not stay awake for much longer. Instead, Jo and Frankie had helped Earl to bed early while Cheyenne had washed the dishes. Jo had thanked Cheyenne once more for her help that day and reminded her to set an alarm, be up, dressed, and down at the stables by the time the first light began to trickle over the horizon the next morning.
Cheyenne had done exactly as instructed. Earlier, she’d been waiting by Another Round’s stall when Jo had arrived, and they’d led the other horses out to a pasture, while Another Round enjoyed a separate pasture of his own; then they’d mucked the stalls. Now, here they stood, under full morning sunlight, a stack of grooming tools nearby and Another Round waiting patiently for attention.
“So, what do I do first?” Cheyenne asked, eyeing Another Round.
“He’s going to need extra attention compared to the other horses,” Jo said. “To be a great groom and for a racehorse, you need to do certain things in a certain order every day,” she stressed. “But first, you need to let him get to know and trust you.”
Jo moved closer to Another Round’s side, stroked his neck gently, and whispered in a low voice to him. After a moment, she glanced over her shoulder at Cheyenne. “Do you hear the way I’m speaking to him? Slowly, calmly, and with reassurance?”
Cheyenne nodded.
“This is how you should always approach him,” Jo said. “You need to be consistent with your demeanor, touch, voice, and interactions. Once you get to know him better, you can relax a little, share more of yourself, and he’ll share more with you. But for now, you need to play it by the book.” She held out one hand toward Cheyenne. “Come closer.”
Cheyenne walked over slowly, placed her hand in Jo’s, and allowed her to lift and settle her palm against Another Round’s neck.
“There,” Jo said softly. “Talk to him. Touch him gently and allow him some time to get to know your voice and touch.”
