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Putting a kid on him would be like setting a sixteen-year-old into a Ferrari to drive.
Two hours later, he’d just finished riding Remington when a gray Dodge Durango pulled up and parked beneath the black spruce. At least he was two out of three on the horses. Finally, a glimmer of redemption. Remington was an honest horse, probably near twenty. Patient and well-mannered.
A slender boy bailed from the back seat and scrambled up the side of the corral, and Dylan followed from the SUV.
Remington lifted his head but kept his feet still. Grayson reached down and rubbed the sleek, warm coat.
“Can I pet him?” the boy asked.
“Eli, you can’t climb on things without asking.” Dylan stepped up to the rail next to Eli.
“I asked to pet the horse.”
Dylan laughed. “Not what I meant—you climbed the fence. You probably don’t remember Grayson. The last time you saw him, I think you were around four.”
Eli shook his head. “I was too young back then. I’m ten now.”
Grayson laughed. The kid said it like he was a college student now. He had Dylan’s blue-green eyes and Marie’s light-blonde hair. Well, if she hadn’t lost it all. “You like horses?”
Eli nodded. “I’m coming here to camp next week. I signed up to do the trail rides every single day.”
“Oh, you are, huh?” Grayson gave Dylan a glance.
In return, he got a shrug. “That’s the plan. As long as camp is running.”
The boy’s face fell and he turned toward his dad. “You registered for it, right?”
Dylan nodded. “I did, but Aunt Beth’s working out the details.”
Grayson stepped down from the horse and led Remington over to them. “He likes having his face rubbed right here.” Grayson demonstrated by giving a good rub to the broad spot on the bay’s forehead. Remington dropped his head into it and pressed against it.
“So, what are you doing out here? Gearing up for next week?” Dylan asked, nodding toward the horse.
“You’re ruthless and relentless,” Grayson answered. “These are the maniacal horses your sister mentioned.” He patted Remy’s neck. “As you can see, I didn’t go all wrong. Two out of three isn’t bad.” At least, that’s the story he was telling himself.
“What’s his name?” Eli asked.
“This one’s name is Remington—sometimes I call him Remy.”
“Hi, Remy.” Eli put his small hand where Grayson’s had been. “My mom likes horses. She has cancer.”
Grayson braced against the memory of his own mom, the emotions threatening to capsize him. How she’d loved animals of all kinds. How Eli’s small voice captured the uncertainty of the future in those three words. “Your dad told me that. I’m sorry about your mom’s cancer. I think horses are pretty special too.”
“Me too. Can I ride Remy today?” Eli waved when an older blue Honda Pilot parked next to the Durango. Beth exited the vehicle. She wore jeans and hiking boots, her light-brown hair loose around her shoulders. She gave a tentative smile and walked toward them, her hands full with a stack of file folders, binders, and pens.
Eli turned his attention back to Grayson when Beth walked their way.
“I can’t let you ride Remy today, but you can help me take all this tack off of him and brush him. How does that sound? If it’s okay with your dad.”
Dylan checked his watch. “Sure, we have a few minutes.”
“Yes!” Eli pumped his arm.
He climbed off the panel and followed Grayson to the hitching post. With each piece of tack removed, he obediently followed directions. Dylan and Beth sat on the weather-worn bench nearby, their conversation swallowed by Eli’s chatter and questions.
“That’s all,” Grayson said, dropping the brushes Eli handed him into the grooming bucket. “Time for this guy to head back to the pasture.”
Dylan and Beth stood, waiting with Eli while Grayson turned Remington loose. The horse gave a robust shake and wandered off to graze.
