Page 40

He released her hand so he could open the stall door. Lydia stepped aside, giving him room to pass. While he collected Lola’s halter, she brushed a few stubborn pieces of straw from her sleeves.

“You’ve got some in your hair, too,” he said.

She reached up and found a stalk caught near her ear. “That explains why you couldn’t stop looking at me.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “That wasn’t it.”

Her fingers paused against her hair. Then Lola stretched her nose toward the halter, and Lydia had a moment to compose herself while he slipped it on.

She followed them out of the barn. Sunlight warmed her arms, and she took a fuller breath than she’d drawn inside. Chet shortened the lead as they crossed the yard, keeping Lola beside him.

Lydia matched his pace. She’d walked this path with him plenty of times, usually talking faster than he could answer. Today, the quiet between their footsteps stood out.

“How’s Misty doing?” she asked.

“She let me get the saddle on her.”

Her head turned. “Really?”

“Stood while I put a foot in the stirrup, too. We’ve still got work to do before I take her out.”

“I knew you’d get there.”

He glanced at her, his smile fading into a softer one. “I wanted to tell you.”

She looked toward the meadow where Misty grazed. “I would’ve liked to hear.”

He nodded. Neither of them went back over the days they’d missed.

At the paddock, Lydia moved ahead to open the gate. She held it while Chet led Lola through, then waited as he turned the mare to face them and removed her halter. Lola stood beside him for a moment before lowering her head to the grass.

“All that fuss, and now she’s in no hurry,” Lydia said.

“She likes to make sure I know she’s doing me a favor.”

“Smart girl.”

He gave Lydia a sideways look. She smiled and swung the gate closed once he stepped through.

In the neighboring meadow, Misty lifted her head. Lydia rested her arms along the fence as the mare took a few curious steps toward them.

“I’ve missed her, too,” she admitted.

“You can come see her whenever you want.” Chet paused beside her. “You don’t have to stay and help me work.”

She turned toward him. That distinction might never have mattered before. Today, she appreciated it.

“I like helping.”

“I know. I like having you here.”

Misty stopped short of the fence, and Lydia held out her hand. The mare sniffed her fingers, then let Lydia rub the side of her face. Chet stayed beside her without offering instructions.

For a little while, she let herself enjoy the sunshine and Misty’s warm breath against her wrist. Nothing else had to be settled while she stood here.

When Misty wandered back to the grass, Lydia lowered her hand.

“I was thinking we could have dinner at The Steer House,” she said. “You know, where this whole thing started.”