“I can’t fault him for focusing on a pretty girl rather than Horses for Heroes. Plus, he’s been gone a considerable while.”
Owen tilted his head toward Carly. “She blames me, and she’s not letting go of that bone any time soon.”
Carly rolled her eyes. “If this were a group session, we’d have a separate instructor and leaders, but with only one client it’s easy to do both. My job is to lead the horse while you—”
Owen didn’t hear the rest of her comment, instead he glanced at the horse and, sure enough a lead rope was clipped to the animal’s halter. “You’ll be leading me around the arena like a toddler on his first pony ride? How does that do me any good?”
“This is an example of what I was talking about and why you’d be better working with Joni.” Carly’s face flushed the color of Texas Indian Paintbrush wildflowers. “Say you’ll reconsider.”
“I’m not going around that mountain again. All I’m asking is you’re clearer with what’s going on and why.”
“I would have if I’d been allowed to finish. I’d have said we want clients to control the horse as much as possible, and we adjust to their abilities. Therefore, individuals who need less help, are given less. While I’ll technically be ‘leading’ I primarily concentrate on your therapy and ensure the horse remains calm and focused.”
Owen stepped forward and stared down at her. “You should’ve started with that, rather than waiting—”
“If you’d show a little patience, quit jumping to conclusions, and follow directions,” Carly said as she poked her finger in his chest, “which you should do better at considering you’re in the military—”
A shrill whistle sliced through the air. Both he and Carly froze and turned to Dennis. Owen rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the heat building there. How could he have forgotten they weren’t alone? Somehow whenever Carly got within fifty feet the rest of the world slipped away.
“What’s going on with you two? First you two were lockin’ eyes, and now you’re scrappin’ like two barn cats with one mouse.” The older man shook his head. “You remind me of me and my wife. There’s never been any middle ground with us either.”
Owen hid a smile behind a cough. The old man’s vision was still twenty-twenty. Maybe twenty-fifteen.
“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Carly sputtered.
“You’re not trying to sell me that bum steer, are you Missy?”
A pebble claimed Carly’s attention as she used her boot tip to cover the rock with dirt.
“The world may have changed since I dated Brenda, but there’s no mistaking the looks you two gave each other in the tack room. Trouble with his helmet, my aunt Fannie.”
Owen stood with his lips clamped together, hoping if he kept his mouth shut, he’d stay out of storm Dennis’s path.
“What you do on your own time is up to you, but here with me, this picking at each other will stop.” The former drill sergeant pointed a gnarled finger at Carly. “You quit acting like him asking somethin’ means he’s questioning the pope’s faith.”
“But, what if—”
“But nothing. I wasn’t asking. I was tellin’.”
Carly nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Then Dennis leveled his no-nonsense-scare-the-crap-out-of-any-recruit-at-fifty-paces stare on Owen. “And you, quit thinkin’ everything she says is questioning your manhood.”
The words denying the accusation sat perched on Owen’s tongue, but instead of speaking, he nodded, and mumbled a,yes, sir, but the older man’s words gnawed at him. Was Dennis right? Did he fight Carly for control and question her because he feared she saw him as less than the man he’d been? Nah. While he had a helluva lot to prove to the Army, the same wasn’t true of Carly. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No need to get your peacock feathers ruffled. We’ve all gone through it after coming back from overseas. It changes us in ways we don’t even realize.”
Owen didn’t know what to say.
“Now, so we get started while I’m still handsome and have all my teeth, I’m gonna tell y’all what’ll happen today,” Dennis said.
Owen and Carly chuckled at the older man’s comment. The tension broken, Dennis explained how Carly would give direction, but he’d walk quietly beside Owen watching his balance. “If I start yammerin’ you’re likely to get distracted.”
“I’m guessing the most Dennis will need to do is hold your boot near your ankle, but if he thinks you need more support, he might grab your belt or put his arm across your thigh,” Carly added.
Owen smiled at the older man. “If you get that friendly, I’ll expect you to buy me a beer.”
“Sounds like a fine plan to me,” Dennis said. “Now mount up.”
