“I remember when we picked him for Nic,” Jack said, turning to her. “We went out to that farm in Herriman. We could see the copper mine on the western mountains and that’s how you picked the name.”
“I do remember.” She also remembered the tension in the car and the fact that they knew this horse was more than a replacement for Whistler. He was a way to ease Nicole’s pain when they told her they were splitting up. “That farm’s gone,” she said, not wanting to think of those dark days. “Herriman is a beautiful upscale suburb of Salt Lake City now.”
“Ah, progress.” He reached into a bag next to the stall, grabbing a peppermint. “You ready to take a ride on the sleigh, big fella? I guess you do more work than ride, but I’ll go easy on you, I promise.”
He held out the peppermint that Copper slurped up, opening the latch to guide him out.
“You get him comfortable, Cin,” Jack said. “I’ll get the equipment.”
Copper was a little tense when Jack went to the storage cabinet and pulled out the harness, so Cindy walked him outside to the paddock, offering peppermints as they strolled.
A few minutes later, Jack had dragged everything to the sleigh and hustled back up the hill to the paddock.
Copper watched warily, but let them lead him out, down the path, and right to the sleigh that sat outside the ski shed. Jack had laid out the equipment. He walked ahead, picking up the padded collar and traces to buckle them together, inspecting each piece for wear.
“You remember how to do this?” Cindy asked as she and the horse got closer.
With each step, Copper’s hesitancy grew more obvious as he whinnied and kicked at the snow.
“I could do this in my sleep. Bring him closer?”
She tried but Copper stayed planted in place.
“Except Whistler was a bit more obedient,” Jack said, looping the bellyband. “Want to hook up the breeching?”
While Copper watched from a few feet away, they worked side by side, adjusting straps, brushing off snow, laughing as they fumbled with frozen buckles. They’d done this a million times together, Cindy thought, using muscle memory to finish the task.
Once everything was prepped, Jack began slipping the padded collar over Copper’s head. The horse resisted immediately, backing up.
“Don’t go all diva now,” Jack said. “This is your job.”
Copper let out a loud, indignant snort.
Cindy laughed and grabbed a peppermint from her coat pocket and offered it with a coaxing smile. “There you go, buddy.”
Copper took the mint—and then stepped on Jack’s boot.
“Ow! Okay, now it’s personal.”
It took several tries to get the collar on, and even longer to fasten the traces to the singletree. Copper refused to stand still. He nibbled Jack’s coat, tried to back away, and at one point nearly sat down.
Despite the cold, Jack wiped sweat from his brow. “He’s like a puppy. How much does Nicole baby this guy?”
“Quite a bit.” Cindy shook her head, patting the horse’s long, soft snout.
Finally, after what felt like a barnyard comedy routine, Copper stood mostly still in front of the sleigh, the harness secured. Jack stepped back to admire their work.
“We did it,” he said.
Cindy tilted her head. “Almost. You want to test the pull?”
Jack climbed up and took the reins. “Let’s see what you got, Copper.”
Copper took one tentative step forward, then stopped. Then another. Then—nothing.
“Come on, Cin.” Jack reached his hand down. “He might want a passenger.”
Doubtful of that, she put her foot on the runner and took his hand, letting him ease her up to the leather bench perched high behind Copper.
