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The day passed in a blur of cleaning stalls, checking tack, grooming horses. Everyone stayed busy getting ready to handle the summer season of tourists that would kick into high gear after Memorial Day. Jon and Mandy took a group of three guests out for an hour ride in the afternoon, leaving Britt to work with Kelly for the last couple hours while Mark and Casey attended a managers meeting.
Kelly had been fine all day with the others around, so when it was just the two of them, Britt gave him a friendly smile, hoping to put their previous encounter behind them. “Mark asked me to finish some paperwork for him, so if you want to polish the rest of the saddles in the tack room, you can head out when you’re done. I think there’s five left.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
The edge of antagonism in his voice grated on her nerves. “That’s fine. You can shovel the manure in the back, instead.”
“Who made you boss?”
“Mark did. I’ve been here a heck of a lot longer than you, and I know what needs to get done.”
“Good for you.”
She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Kelly.”
His glare didn’t diminish as he spun around to stride toward the tack room. She went into the office and ignored him as much as she could until he’d clocked out an hour and a half later. Glad to have his unnerving presence gone, she strolled out to the arena to check on the mustang.
The lengthy afternoon shadows were beginning to camouflage the brown mare. She moved restlessly about the circular enclosure now that the tranquilizer had worn off.
Britt spoke softly to get the mare accustomed to the sound of her voice, but she didn’t go inside. That would wait until tomorrow.
* * *
Bright sunlight didn’t deter the brisk wind that rustled the spring leaves on Britt’s walk from the parking lot to the arena Tuesday morning. The barn doors were open, and she assumed Mark was in his office, but a glance at her watch confirmed she had just over an hour before the morning staff meeting he held each day to hand out work assignments. Enough time to get a feel for how to proceed with Gypsy’s training.
The mare paced in the enclosure, ears flicking back and forth, eyes taking everything in as she monitored her surroundings. She was constantly on the move, pausing only to snake her head down every so often for a bite of hay.
Britt gave it about ten minutes, then took a deep breath and bent to slip between the boards. Mark had likened the animal to a bull, but how bad could she really be?
Taking slow, unthreatening steps, she started a one-sided, soft conversation and made her way into the middle. The mare seemed calmed by her voice; her movements less agitated, her ears pitching forward with interest.
Look at that. Maybe all she needs is someone to show her gentleness.
Gypsy stopped and faced her. Her pulse kicked up a notch, but when the mare made no move, she willed her heartbeat to slow. Satisfaction brought a small smile to her lips.
“There you go, girl. See, no one’s going to hurt you here.”
In the blink of an eye, the horse’s ears flattened to her head and she charged. Britt spun and made a run for it. The thunder of hooves vibrated in her chest, sending an additional surge of adrenaline through her legs.
She launched herself the last three feet, scrambling to climb the fence. Dirt sprayed as Gypsy skidded to a halt and slid into the boards beneath her. Momentum carried Britt over the top. As she tumbled over, her cotton shirt caught on a knot in the top board. It held long enough to change her trajectory, then ripped.
Her head slammed against the fence post as she hit the ground. Stars twinkled on the edges of her vision. As she caught her breath, she turned her head to peer between the boards while the mare retreated. Two seconds slower and she would’ve been pinned against the hard wood by a crazy horse.
“Shoulda thought that through a bit more,” she muttered.
A quick glance around the empty stable yard confirmed she was speaking to no one but herself. The fact that Mark hadn’t come rushing out meant he hadn’t caught the action from the window, either, thank God.
She pulled herself to her feet, one hand gingerly pressed to her tender cheek. Gypsy paused long enough for a mouthful of hay before resuming her restless stride.
“Round one goes to you, girl,” Britt conceded dryly.
When she walked into the barn office, Mark barely glanced up from his paperwork as he offered a greeting. “Mornin’.”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here so early?”
The mirror on the wall revealed a raw scrape and blossoming bruise on her left cheek. She glanced down at the rip in her shirt, and her dusty jeans. Thankfully, the knot in the board hadn’t ripped through the tank top she’d layered beneath her blue
