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“He must be something special to inspire that kind of loyalty.”
Jock ambled down the aisle, checking pails for water, mangers for hay. “Aye. He’s quiet. And downright scary. That’s what throws people off. They don’t look past that to see the man inside, that’s what.” Pausing outside a stall door, he pointed back up the aisle. “Would ye bring me that carry-all there? It’s got my brushes in it.”
“Jock? Are you in here?” Shadows fell across the stable floor. Startled Ellery into dropping the box.
Conor seemed just as surprised. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” His words were bitten off and sharp.
At breakfast she’d had the family to act as a buffer. Here, it was only Jock. Her face went hot, but she met him stare for stare. Showed him how little he meant to her. “I came to check on the horses we st—, I mean borrowed from Evan.” She snatched up the tote full of brushes, hoping he’d understand she didn’t want to talk.
It didn’t work. A gleam lit his eyes. “They’ll go back this afternoon. With remittance in full.” He glanced down at her load. “Is Jock making you help? Or is it your own sense of guilt causing you to worry over the hacks?” He leveled an unsettling stare on her. “I’m sorry, Ellery.”
And she knew he wasn’t speaking of the stolen horses. She looked away. Afraid of the regret she saw in his eyes. She didn’t want him to get past her defenses. Allow her to dream again. Even if she knew her dream was a fool’s wish. Conor was off-limits. End of story.
Jock broke the awkward silence. “The bay’s got a bruised heel, Capt’n. He’ll take a day or two before he’s sound. The chestnut’s tired, but she’ll do for travel.”
“Then we’ll send at least word that they’re safe. Evan will have to accept that for now. Good enough?” he asked.
Ellery nodded stiffly. “You make me sound like a missish, old do-gooder.”
“I’d never accuse of you of being old.” He offered her a tired smile, and she remembered how ill he’d been only yesterday. Had it been so soon? Had he recovered so quickly?
Jock entered the stall of a round, dappled gray. He snapped a lead to her halter and brought her out to the ties. “What brings ye out here, Capt’n?”
Conor seemed to come back to his surroundings. “Looking for Mab. Have you seen her? Cook’s sent me with some scraps.”
Jock chuckled. “More like you’ve swiped ’em from under her nose. If ye want that old, lazy hound, she’s where she always is. Layin’ in the sunshine by the tack room door.”
Conor started down the aisle, his movements careful, his gait slow. Not quite recovered, then.
“Follow him, miss.” Jock motioned her on, a knowing light in his eye. “I’m thinkin’ he doesn’t scare ye so easy, that’s what.”
She wanted to stay and help Jock, but it was obvious the old man didn’t need her. He’d already turned to the horse, crooning to it as he picked its hooves. She put the tote down beside him and deliberately walked back up the aisle in the opposite direction, away from Conor. A few weeks and she’d be gone. In the meantime, avoid him. Easy enough to do. Right?
Outside, she was greeted by two dogs, one short and terrier-like, its ears perked, its tail snapping like a whip. The other was huge with paws like dinner plates and a coat like sheep’s wool. She tried backing away, but they followed, circling her, barking and whining until the giant rug jumped up on her chest for a better look.
“Down, Fang.” Conor’s order was obeyed instantly. He’d come around the corner of the stable, a third dog at his heels, and now stood watching the tumult, his face shuttered of emotion.
The rug returned the look, growling low in its throat. The terrier’s yapping became frenzied, its back bristling in fear. Conor never blinked as he stared them down. Finally the two dogs scuttled away, yielding to the force of his gaze. Only the third dog remained. Still glued to Conor’s leg. Still looking up at him with something close to worship.
“The dogs weren’t bothering me.”
“No? Then I apologize. Not everyone appreciates Fang’s unbridled enthusiasm and warm welcomes.”
“He doesn’t seem to welcome you.”
“No. Dogs don’t take to me. All animals, really. They sense the Heller in me. Makes them nervous.”
“And that one?” she asked, pointing to the dog, now seated patiently at his feet.
“Old Mab? She’s the only one who forgives me what I am.” His pointed comment stung. But she couldn’t forgive him. Not even if it cost her. The sun chose that moment to dip behind a cloud, and she wrapped her arms around her, suddenly chilled.
He squatted down, scratching the dog’s ears while it wiggled and whined its happiness. It pushed a whitened nose into his armpit. “Smell the bones, do you? Hold on.” He looked over his shoulder to Ellery. “She’s all but blind. But she’s still got the best nose in the county.”
“Is she yours?”
“Simon’s.”
Her surprise must have shown.
