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“I know it’s gross, but Granny is old, and you’d really be helping her out if you could get it done,” Dad says.
“You’re right,” I agree. “The thing is, Dad, I don’t know anything about horses or how to take care of them. All I know about cleaning stalls is what I’ve seen on TV.”
“Avery—”
“I’ll help her, Mr. Jenson,” Tyler interrupts. “That is if you don’t mind that we take a break here for a bit.”
Dad nods. “Go ahead. I’ll finish cutting these last two-by-fours and then break for lunch.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” he tells my dad before turning toward me. “Lead the way.”
We don’t have to walk far. The two-story barn is only about four car lengths away from the house. The red paint that once covered the boards has peeled away over time, leaving the old wooden boards exposed. Dad says that when Grandpa bought this house, the barn was already in place and that it was customary to keep the barn fairly close because most families lived on the milk and eggs they farmed every day. It made it easier back in the day.
I lead Tyler to the front door and push it open. The barn smells just as bad as I expected and it takes everything in me to not plug my nose shut. There are six stalls, but only three of them have horses in them. I stare at the magnificant animals who stand so tall and regal as we walk past them.
Tyler pats the side of one of the stalls. “This old place is in pretty good shape. It’s been well kept.”
“This was my grandpa’s man cave. Dad says he spent a lot of time in here fixing things and making sure the horses were well taken care of.”
“It shows. This place has got to be at least one hundred years old,” Tyler says. “You ready to get started?”
I shurg. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Tyler picks up a pitchfork and then hands it to me. “The first thing we have to do is move the horses out to pasture while we clean their stalls.” He reaches in and pats the horse gently on the nose. “You have to show them that they can trust you. It’s no different than any other relationship. Trust is key.”
I like hearing this explanation from him, and it makes me think that he believes this in every facet of his life. I want to trust Tyler and so far I do. He’s never done anything to make me think that he doesn’t deserve my faith in him.
Tyler lifts the latch on the stall and leads the horse out of the barn like he’s done it a million times before.
When he returns, he takes the pitchfork from me and says, “Now it’s your turn.”
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nbsp; “Me?” I ask hesitantly. “I don’t know if I can.”
Tyler smiles and takes my hand. “Don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you, and I’ll be right by your side.”
His words are comforting and I suddenly feel a surge of bravery shoot through me, knowing that he’ll be there to make sure things go right.
I lean the pitchfork against the wall and then make my way toward a stall that has a tall, tan horse with a dark brown mane. I uncurl my fingers and stretch my hand toward the horse and it neighs, causing me to jerk my hand back.
“It’s okay,” Tyler encourages. “Try again.”
I swallow hard and then attempt again to touch the animal. This time it allows me to pat the smooth spot just above its nose.
A smile creeps over my face. “It’s so soft. I haven’t been in here since I was a little girl.”
Tyler watches me openly as I overcome my fears. “Now you know there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”
“Thank you for this—for helping me.”
Tyler reaches up and pushes back a loose strand of my dark hair away from my face. “Anytime.”
I bite my lip, loving the feel of his touch, and as I’m about to lean in and kiss him, Tyler clears his throat. “Let’s knock these stalls out so we can break for lunch.”
“Okay.”
After we lead the other two horses out of the barn, Tyler shows me the best way to hold the pitchfork and scoop the straw and poop out of the barn. When he’s statisifed that I can manage on my own, he picks up another pitchfork so we can finish in half the time.
