He had her there, and it would be saying yes to a new opportunity.I might have to consider adding some parameters to that mission statement.
He let out a holler, kind of a “Hee-yah!” and the horses started plodding toward the fence.
Fear tap-danced on her heart as she watched the horses stroll toward them, manes wisping back, muscles gleaming. “They come to you, just like dogs.” The thumping in her chest finally slowed.
A big black horse was the first to the fence. He hung his head over and lowered his face against Adam’s shoulder. “This is Ace.”
“He’s so regal looking.”
A golden-maned palomino pushed his way through two other horses to get some of the attention. Six were all gathered now, and instinctively she backed away. They were so huge, and the fence didn’t look like it would hold the animals in if they decided otherwise.
“It’s okay,” Adam said. “They are just looking for treats. Let me grab them a couple flakes of hay.”
She stood there, too scared to approach them, although she really wanted to. It took only a minute for Adam to come back, and she was happy to know that apparently a flake of hay was a big square pad of it. She’d pictured something small that the giant horses might fight over.
He tossed the hay over the fence, and the horses nickered and jockeyed for the best spot to get their fair share—or more.
Adam reached his hand out to her. “Come here. Let me introduce you to Chips.”
She took his hand, and he walked her toward the black-maned buckskin. He lifted her hand and placed it on the side of the large horse.
“He’s beautiful.”
Adam moved her hand along the horse’s thickly muscled neck.
“How did he get his name?”
“He has a long registered name. Great heel horses in his lineage, but I just call him Chips because he’s crazy about tortilla chips.”
“And you know that how?”
“We used to have this Mexican restaurant in town, and one night I had a bag of leftover tortilla chips that I’d brought home. I’d stopped to check on the horses, and this guy shoved his nose into the bag and started snacking. He loves them. That started a tradition of me bringing all the leftover chips on the table for him. He’s been Chips ever since.”
“That’s funny.”
“It was great until the restaurant closed down,” he said. “Now that little habit costs me an extra thirty bucks a month in store-bought chips to keep my guy happy, since I buy him the organic ones.”
“Even those can’t be good for him.”
“He’s a little spoiled, but I make sure he gets all the right nutrition. This old guy deserves a splurge or two. He’s twenty-nine years old. I say if he wants chips, he should have them.”
“Twenty-nine? How old do horses get?”
“The average life span is somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five. I once heard a guy claim his horse was fifty. Don’t know if it was true or not, but Grandpa had one that was thirty-seven.”
She braved placing her hand on the horse’s face. Chips blew soft air, making her laugh.
“He likes you,” Adam said.
“I don’t want anything this big not to like me.” She could feel herself smile.
“Come over here, and I’ll show you how to brush him. He loves that.”
She walked over, trying to look braver than she felt. She stepped up next to the horse.
Adam grabbed a flat brush from the fence rail. “You have to use some pressure, else you’ll just tickle him. Use even pressure. One long sweep and then out and away. That’ll loosen dirt and debris.”
She took the brush in her hand. “Like this?”
