“I checked everywhere it could’ve been moved to. And under the beds.” She crossed her arms, looking genuinely concerned about missing Christmas decorations. “It had the glass icicles my grandmother gave me.”
Walker recognized the look on her face– the same petulant one she got when one of her carefully organized files went missing or when someone rearranged her books. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.
“I’ll check the storage room in the barn,” he offered, already headed toward the door. “Might’ve gotten mixed in when we were sorting donations last week.”
Relief softened her features. “Would you? I’d really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” He shrugged into his jacket, surprised at how normal it felt to drop everything to go look for something just because she’d asked. When had that happened?
Outside, the cold air bit at his exposed skin, and he yanked up his collar against it. December was a hell of a month. It could be snowy as hell like last year, or dry and cold as a witch’s tit like this year. He preferred the snow to the mud and bitter, barbed air.
The path from the main house to the barn was all mud, frozen in places where shadow lingered, slick in the patches of weak winter sun. Walker picked his way carefully, gaze fixed on his boots to avoid a fall. The barn loomed ahead, the weathered red paint peeling in places where the harsh Montana winters had taken their toll.
He pulled open the heavy door, the familiar scents of hay, horse, and leather wrapping around him like a blanket. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior, and listened.
“Jonah?” he called, stepping into the warmer interior. “You in here?”
No answer, but he could hear movement from one of the stalls. Walker made his way down the central aisle, past the tack room and feed storage. The storage room was at the far end, but he paused when he reached Sunshine Serenade’s stall.
Jonah Reed stood inside, his back to the door, murmuring something too soft for Walker to catch. The horse—a golden palomino they’d rescued from an auction last spring—had her head lowered, listening with what looked like rapt attention. The kid’s hands moved in slow, gentle strokes down her neck, and she leaned into his touch like a cat.
Walker cleared his throat, not wanting to startle either of them.
Jonah turned, his expression immediately closing off. “Sir. I was just checking on her. She seemed restless earlier.”
Two months, and Walker still hadn’t cracked the kid’s surface. Jonah was unfailingly polite, did every chore without complaint, showed up for therapy sessions right on time—and revealed almost nothing of himself in any of it. The perfect resident on paper. The hardest kind to help in reality.
“Sunny likes you,” Walker said.
A flicker of surprise crossed Jonah’s face before his expression smoothed out again. “She’s easy to like back,” he said, turning his attention to the mare again. “Gentlest soul I’ve met in a while.”
“She wasn’t always,” Walker said, stepping closer to the stall. “When we got her, she wouldn’t let anyone touch her. Spooked at shadows, kicked through a stall door her first night here.”
Jonah’s fingers paused on the mare’s neck, then resumed their steady rhythm. “Hard to imagine that now.”
“Yeah, well. Time and patience work wonders.” He leaned against the stall door, studying the young man. Clean-cut,military posture even in casual clothes, eyes that never quite met his. Beneath the careful politeness, Walker sensed a wall as solid as concrete. “Sometimes they just need the right person to help them through.”
Sunshine nickered softly, nudging Jonah’s shoulder when his strokes slowed. A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth—the first genuine expression Walker had seen from him.
“She thinks you’ve got peppermints,” Walker said.
“She’s right.” Jonah produced a red-and-white striped candy from his pocket and offered it on his flat palm. The mare’s lips delicately plucked it up, and the kid’s smile widened a fraction more. “I keep a stash for her. Hope that’s okay.”
“Fine by me. She’s earned some spoiling.” He watched as the young Marine scratched the sweet spot behind Sunny’s ear. With the horses, at least, Jonah seemed to know exactly who he was. “You’ve got a way with her.”
“Animals are easier than people.” Jonah immediately tensed, as if he’d revealed too much.
“Ain’t that the truth. They don’t lie, don’t judge. Just respond to how you treat ‘em.”
Jonah nodded, his gaze fixed on Sunny. “Exactly.”
“You’ve spent time with horses before,” Walker noted. Not a question.
Jonah nodded. “Grew up on a small farm outside Bozeman. Nothing fancy, just some horses, some cattle, some chickens.” A pause, then, softer: “Didn’t appreciate it enough at the time.”
It was more personal information than Jonah had volunteered in the entire two months he’d been at the ranch. The first crack in a carefully maintained wall.
Finally.
