“Good. Do you need any help?” Micky’s concerned gaze flickered to Seth’s injured hand.
“Could you get the palomino filly? I don’t know how much I can do with my hand the way it is, but I’ll try to get her used to me.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take her to the arena for you.” Micky nodded, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor.
“I appreciate it.” Seth walked along the barn’s wide aisle, scanning for Ryan. Her SUV was parked outside, so she was around somewhere.
“Good morning, Seth,” Red called, his weathered face creasing into a smile beneath his worn Stetson.
“Hey, Red. Is Ms. Carroll around?”
“She’s with Cull. He took her up to the north field to check how the oats and corn are coming along after that rain we had last night, and to fix a section of fence that’s down.”
“Okay. I’ll be in the arena.”
“Are you able to work?” Red nodded at Seth’s hand, which was mottled purple around his swollen knuckles.
“As I told Micky, I’m just going to try to get the horse used to me. It’s all I can do until this heals.” He held his bruised hand up, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain up his arm.
“Damn, that looks nasty, but he deserved it. Let me know if you need me.” Red grinned, touched the brim of his hat, then strode from the barn, spurs jingling softly with each step.
Seth took a deep breath of the crisp morning air as he walked to the arena. His hand throbbed with each heartbeat, a painful reminder that he couldn’t do any proper training today. But since he hadn’t worked much with the spirited young filly, he’d at least get her used to his scent and voice, building that crucial bond between man and horse.
When he entered through the door, he saw Micky leading the palomino filly inside the metal rails. The morning sun caught her gleaming coat as Micky unhooked the leather lead from her halter. Released, she bolted across the arena with her head and tail held high, hooves kicking up small clouds of dust with each powerful stride.
“Micky, could you get an apple for me and cut it up?” he asked, leaning against the metal rail.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” Micky jogged to the nearby barn, returning moments later with a shiny red apple in his hand. He pulled out a worn pocketknife, the blade glinting in the sunlight as he sliced the apple into neat wedges. “Where do you want it, boss?”
“On that old shelf over on the other side, please.”
“Sure thing.” Micky strode across the arena, his shadow stretching long across the packed earth, and set the apple pieces on a wooden shelf before turning back. “Anything else you need, boss?”
“No, Micky. Thanks.”
“Just holler if you change your mind.”
Seth nodded, his eyes never leaving the filly as she pranced in nervous circles, her muscles rippling beneath her glossy golden coat that caught the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the barn’s high windows. Frustration burned in his chest like a hot coal; he was furious that his swollen, purple-knuckled hand prevented him from working with her properly, though he didn’t regret for a second landing that punch squarely on Hayes’ square jaw, feeling the satisfying crunch beneath his fist.
As he watched her trot around the sawdust-covered arena, delicate ears flicking back and forth like radar dishes, his phone vibrated against his thigh from the front pocket of his worn Wranglers, and he instinctively reached for it with his injured hand and hissed in a breath at the lightning bolt of pain that shot up his arm.
“Son of a bitch,” he said through clenched teeth, as he gently removed it with two fingers, wincing as he hit the green button with his thumb.
“Harrison,” he answered, voice gruff with pain.
“Mr. Harrison, this is Doris Cox with Western Living magazine.” Her voice was crisp, professional. “I want toapologize to you for Mr. Hayes. What he said and did was unacceptable.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, Ms. Cox. You did nothing wrong.” Seth leaned against the weathered wooden fence post, keeping one eye on the skittish filly.
“Still, he was my employee. He’s not any longer.” Her tone left no room for argument.
Seth grinned and nodded. “He’s no reflection of you or the magazine.”
“Thank you. If you have time, I’d like to interview you over the phone. His article is in the trash where it belongs.”
Seth chuckled. “Alright. Let me call you back. I’m in the barn right now with a nervous horse who needs my attention. It will be later though.”
“Anytime is fine. I’ll be in the office all day until five. The number I called from is my personal phone. Call me on that.”
