Stepping away, he guided Jordan as she backed into position. “A little to the left por favor. A little more. Bueno!”
She shut off the engine, hopped out and grabbed her backpack from behind the seat. “I’ll get Fudge.”
He’d expected her to come check on the hitch’s position before she left him with this assignment. “Want to make sure you’re lined up right?”
She held his gaze. “I do, but I’m not going to.”
“Okay, then.” Her earnest expression was touching. Trust was so hard for her.
“Thanks again.” Hoisting the backpack over her shoulder, she turned and started toward the barn.
“Anytime.” She likely hadn’t heard him.
Didn’t matter. It was a pointless response. He’d never get the chance to do this again. With so many vehicles at the ranch she’d have no reason to use her truck. She could leave it hitched to the trailer.
When she performed this maneuver again, she’d be on her own. Far away from him. That’s how she wanted it.
But he was here now, and he’d give her the best damn hitching job in existence. He made sure everything was tight, secure, perfecto. He hooked up the lights, confirmed they were working and then went over everything again before closing the tailgate.
By the time he’d finished setting up the ramp, Jordan was coming around the corner of the barn with her decidedly lame horse. Fudge’s head hung down, almost as if he needed to study the terrain and avoid any hazards.
Luis winced. “Looks painful.”
“I’m sure it is, poor guy. Jeb showed me what he thinks is the abscess and it looks nasty. I wondered if I’d somehow missed that Fudge had a problem, but he said abscesses really can happen overnight.”
“They can.” He pulled out his phone. “Let’s get the image for Monty and then tuck him in so we can get on the road.”
“Actually, I took a picture while Jeb was showing me his hoof.” She slipped her backpack off her shoulder.
“Great. Text it to me and….” If she did that, he’d have her number. “Or you can text it straight to Monty.”
“Makes more sense.” She didn’t look at him as she looped Fudge’s lead rope around her arm and dug out her phone.
“Right.” He pulled up Monty’s number and read it to her. Now Monty would have her digits. Whoever said life was fair?
“Done.” She put her phone away and walked the gelding around to the ramp. In the shade he was coal black, not a speck of white, but in the sun his coat took on a cocoa brown tinge, justifying his name.
She stroked his glossy neck. “Go on in, sweet boy. We’ll get you fixed up as soon as we can.”
Fudge seemed eager to get inside the trailer, which likely felt like home to him. But he grunted in pain whenever he accidentally put weight on his injured hoof.
Stowing the ramp, Jordan closed and latched the trailer’s doors. “This is awful. He’s always been so healthy. I hate that he’s hurting.”
“He won’t have to be in pain much longer. Let’s do this.” He lengthened his stride as he headed for the truck’s passenger side.
Jordan must have jogged around to her side. She was seated and buckled up by the time he got in and closed the door. He quickly fastened his seat belt as she started the engine.
She took a quick breath. “I can’t decide whether to take it slow to make sure I don’t jostle him or go fast so we’ll get there sooner.”
“Your horse, your call.”
“What would you do?”
Her question surprised him. “I’d put myself in Fudge’s shoes. I think he’d want you to take it easy so you can watch for anything in the road. His balance won’t be great right now. He’ll have anxiety about that.”
She nodded. “I’ll go slow.” Checking all her mirrors, she maneuvered carefully out of the complex. Once they were back on the 90, she let out a heavy sigh.
He knew what it was like to have a beloved horse in pain. “You’re doing great.”
