She frowned. “You keep it locked–?”
I shook my head. “No. You can come and go as you please.”
She looked nervous, but of course she did—and I needed to get the gate, so I hopped out to get the chain. When I got back in the truck, I glanced into the rearview and caught Sawyer with a shit-eating grin on his face, like he knew I was down bad even if I hadn’t admitted it yet.
I pushed that to the back of my mind.
Right now, I had a job to do.
We drove through the pastures first—the east field with the Longhorns in the shade of the live oak stand, their horns catching the afternoon light, a dozen of them unbothered and enormous. Then the horses at the fence line—two quarter horses who ambled over to say hello.
Millie looked over with wide eyes. “Are they friendly?”
“They don’t bite, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I said, glancing over at her. “But uh…”
I reached behind the front seat, where I kept a stash of carrots just in case, then handed her one.
“They’ll like you better if you come bearing gifts.”
We slowed to a stop and I waved Sawyer around, letting him pass in his own truck, the trailer rattling behind him. We didn’t really need it; she hardly had any possessions to her name, but it felt good to do this for her regardless.
Millie rolled down the window and the horses came right to it.
“What are their names?” she asked.
"The bay is Shiner," I said. "The roan is Lone Star."
She turned to look at me.
"My dad named them," I said.
"Your dad named the horses after beer."
"Mom named the goats after country musicians. Dad named the horses after beer. The cattle don't have names."
"The cattle don't have names," she repeated.
"There's a hundred and eighty of them."
"Fair enough." She turned back to the window. Shiner had his whole enormous nose through the gap and was investigating her with the focused enthusiasm of a horse who has identified a carrot. She held it flat-palmed the way you're supposed to, which I noticed, and he took it with the delicate politeness of a horse who has just found their new best friend.
"Hi," she told him. Quiet, like she was introducing herself. "I'm Millie."
Shiner breathed on her hand.
"He likes you," I said.
"He likes the carrot."
"Same thing, at first."
She smiled at that without looking at me and fed the last of the carrot to Lone Star, who had been waiting with slightly less patience than his paddock mate and made his feelings known about the wait by exhaling loudly directly into her face.
She laughed and pulled back and wiped her face and I handed her another carrot without being asked.
She did it again.
I watched.
