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Ethan nodded but seemed civil. Cricket didn’t tattle as she’d threatened. I couldn’t have cared less, but I found that interesting. I discreetly winked at her and her eyes shot wide before narrowing in promises of lethal force.
Jonah said, “Hey, Spencer! You’re with me right now. We’ll take this half of the stalls, and Ethan and Cricket will take the other side.”
Damn. “Cool.”
“So what’s on the docket today?” I asked him, taking in my surroundings.
The barn was about fifteen-feet high, and had approximately ten horse stalls running half the back length of the barn on either sides, creating twenty stalls in all. The front half was a giant open space, though I wasn’t sure what it was for. I could see from the road the day before that the horse barn was the biggest building on the property, and it was obvious once I was inside that was the case. I took in all the rustic wood surrounding us and couldn’t imagine how many man-hours it must have taken to forge each log and plank.
The horse stalls themselves were made of wood as well. Their doors easily slid away on tracks from the opening. Each stall had swinging doors leading to the outside as well, but I could tell those were hardly used, at least not in the winter.
“We’re going to be mucking out the horse stalls,” Jonah explained. “We do this about once a day, unless the horses have been kept inside for some reason, then we’ll hit them twice.” He walked toward a wall, picked up two pitchforks and handed one to me. I followed him into the nearest stall. “Okay, so you’ll want to wedge the fork underneath the pile of manure. With the fork low to the ground, tightly shimmy it back and forth, freeing any loose pine pellet bedding. We do this so the manure doesn’t break up and we save clean bedding.”
Together we cleaned the stall in around five minutes, moving to the next with the wheelbarrow, tying up or “racking up” the horse outside the stall, then returning the horse, dropping a new bale of hay, and filling its three-pound feed bucket with grains. We went from one stall to the next and the next until all ten stalls on our side were done. We didn’t talk much but fell into an easy rhythm. In about forty-five minutes, our stalls were clean and our horses fed. I’d never worked like that with someone, and it felt like I’d actually accomplished something.
“Good job, greenhorn,” Jonah said, slapping me on the back.
“Dude, what in the hell is a greenhorn?” I asked, eyeing Cricket as we made our way toward the main house for breakfast.
She and Ethan had two stalls left. I reveled in the fact that she watched me the entire way.
Jonah laughed. “You’re a greenhorn. It’s essentially a newbie, Spencer.”
“Ah, guess there’s nothing I can do about it then.”
“Nothing,” he said, but smiled and slapped me on the shoulder again. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
Chapter Sixteen
At breakfast, Cricket came in a little too late for my taste. In fact, I knew for a fact they should’ve been in shortly after Jonah and me. I studied them from across the room. Cricket’s raw lips gave away her little game, and Ethan’s fucking grin pissed me off beyond belief.
“Hello?” I heard to my left.
“Huh?” I said.
“I was talking to you, Spence,” Bridge said, rolling her eyes when I finally made eye contact.
“Never mind,” she huffed. “I’m going to pee for the seventh time this morning. I hope Ellie didn’t think I was trying to get out of work.” She got up and headed for the restroom.
Cricket looked at me from the corner of her eye. I raised my brows in question but she ignored me. I began to stand up to join them, but Bridge rushed back into the dining room, startling me. There was a look of panic on her face.
“I’m bleeding,” she whispered.
“What?”
She shook her head up and down, her eyes glassing over, biting her thumbnail.
My heart jumped into my throat. “Okay, okay, let’s not panic. Uh, let me think,” I said, running my hands through my hair. My eyes searched the table and met Cricket’s.
She read something in my expression, jumped up and crawled over her bench, practically sprinting over to us. “What’s wrong? You okay, Bridget?” she asked, reaching up and running her hand over my sister’s hair.
“I’m bleeding,” she whispered again.
“Oh, God. Okay, don’t panic. I’ll be right back.”
Cricket approached Ellie and they spoke in hushed whispers.
