A white, tan, grey, and black blur raced from the stables, tongue lolling at the side of his mouth. I lowered myself to one knee and cupped the Aussie’s head in my hands, scratching his favorite spots with my fingers. “Where is she, boy?”
His ears perked.
“Is she with the horses?”
Pulling his head from my hands, he raced back to the barn where we stabled the mounts.
I followed more slowly, trying to think of something to say.I’m sorrysounded trite, and really, the apology should come from Henry…if he could talk past the fat lip I wanted to give him.
Maybe a joke would distract her from the pain she must be feeling.
What sickness did the cowboy get from riding a wild horse? Bronc-itis.
I groaned. I wanted to make her feel better, not worse.
Jocelyn’s soft voice drifted down the barn’s central aisle and tripped my feet. Domino had his head over the stall door, his jaw resting on Jocelyn’s shoulder as she ran her fingers across his long neck.
“Do you know what it’s like, boy? To have people think the only reason you got a job was to fill some sort of diversity quota? Forget about qualifications. Hard work. Dedication. You know, actually being good at the job and deserving it. Earning the position on merit.” Her voice broke. “It would be like the other horses claiming the only reason Malachi wanted you was because you have a white diamond mark and none of the other horses have them and the ranch has to have at least one horse with a diamond. He didn’t pick you because you’re strong or experienced or gentle. Only because of the white marking between your eyes.”
I shifted into the shadows. She’d already found the best listeners on the ranch.
Jocelyn pulled away. Looked Domino in the eye. Rested her forehead in the width of his. “Don’t listen to those other horses, boy. They’re only upset because they thought their cousin should get this stall.” She scratched under his chin, shoulders rising and falling in deep breaths as she breathed in his scent.
Did she feel it? The slow unwinding of strain, muscles loosening with each heartbeat shared with a horse? A grounding. Settling. Opening to peace and the fresh reminder of rightness in the world.
“It’s safe to come out now,” Jocelyn called as she lifted her head.
I stepped to the side, the warmth from the sun’s rays shining past the open barn doors immediately heating the back of my legs, matching the familiar rising temperature wrapping around my ears. How many times would I embarrass myself in front of this woman?
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
She turned to face me, Domino’s head pressed against the length of her middle, Scout curled up at her feet. She looked like a queen among her devoted subjects. “Heard about our little corporate pow-wow, did you?”
“What he said—”
She held up a hand, palm out. “Isn’t anything I haven’t heard before.” And by the set of her jaw and the line of her shoulders, something she wouldn’t let define her.
I walked to the other side of Domino and stroked his cheek. Animals were useful to have around for more than just work. They provided an excuse to keep my hands occupied when I didn’t know what to do with them. “Our in-house therapist do his job?”
Her mouth relaxed into a gentle smile as she peered into the animal’s round eyes. “Would I sound crazy if I said being with him stirs something deep down inside me? Like he can reach out and awaken my soul. The warmth of his body and his musty scent transcend the problems crowding me and unlock a well of harmony in a world of chaos.”
Words to my own unspoken feelings.
I reached up and pressed my fingers to the dents in the crown of my cowboy hat, lifting it from my head and placing it atop hers. Too big, but the width of the brim fit over the knot she’d tied in the bandana wrapped around her head.
My breath hitched.
My dog, my horse, my hat. If I didn’t know she lived in the big city with a fancy job, I’d swear she belonged right here where she stood.
Moistening the inside of my mouth, I made the joints in my knees unlock. “There,” I said as I gave the roll of the hat a little tug. “If you’re going to sound like a cowgirl poet, you’ve got to look like one.”
Her smile arched. “Oh yeah?” She yanked the hat lower onto her head and hooked her thumbs into the loops along the waistband of her jeans. Her knees bent and she walked with an imitation of Nate’s swagger that pulled laughter from my chest. “Am I a cowgirl now?”
Scout barked, jumping around like he wanted to be a part of whatever was going on too.
I raised my voice to be heard over the dog’s happy yaps. “According to Miriam, to cowgirl up means to never let up, ease up, shut up, or give up. What do you say to that?”
“I say yee-haw.” She pivoted in a circle, twirling an invisible lariat over her head.
