If it continued, Zeke would figure out what to do about it. As for now, he needed to move Cal into his new life, and he needed to find out how much Cal knew about horses so they could both fulfill their obligations to the valley, the parolees, and Leland Tate.
“Everything all right, Cal?” asked Zeke.
“Yeah, sure,” said Cal. “I love my new boots. I feel tall now.”
“You look tall,” said Zeke, quickly taking note that even though Cal’d had a rough night, he looked tidy and ready to go in his crisp, new blue jeans and pale blue button-down shirt. The new straw cowboy hat he wore put half of his face in shadow, though Zeke could still see the sweet shine in Cal’s blue eyes.
Still, he was distracted by the memory of those bruises, and Cal’s dismissive,I’ll handle it.He was also distracted by the way Cal was looking at Bolt and the saddle and blanket, as if the setting were all new to him.
“Break those boots in slow, right? Now.” Zeke went up to Bolt and patted his sturdy brown neck. “Show me how you groom and saddle.”
He stood back, fully expecting Cal to hop right to work, that he would soon see the skill Cal had attested to in his application:Can groom and saddle, mid-level rider, with the ability to walk, trot, and canter.
The trouble was, nothing happened. Cal went up to Bolt and repeated Zeke’s action, a hearty but gentle pat to Bolt’s neck.
Bolt turned his head to sniff the newcomer, and though Cal seemed startled, he didn’t jump back or pull away. His hand on Bolt’s nose was soft, but very—yes, the only word would be timid. As timid as any greenhorn who’d never seen a horse before, let alone touched one.
Or maybe Zeke was mistaken, and Cal was just taking it slow.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “He’s a steady horse, used to being saddled.”
Still nothing.
Overhead, the sun danced in and out from the clouds, teasing rain. The cool breeze raced beneath the brim of Zeke’s cowboy hat, and the scent of sun-warmed pine needles was rich in the air.
“Um.” Cal’s voice was hesitant in the same way it had been when Zeke had asked about those bruises.
Cal went over to the saddle, lifted it from the horse blanket, and started carrying it over to Bolt. He’d never even glanced at the blanket, and the saddle was unsteady in his grip.
Two feet away from Bolt, the saddle seemed to shift in Cal’s hands, as if he was unsure how to carry it.
Zeke moved in, holding both saddle and Cal, so they didn’t dash themselves beneath Bolt’s hooves. Meanwhile, Bolt was just looking at them, ears perked forward, as if maybe he felt that after this small comedy, he’d be given a treat for being such an attentive audience.
“Hey, now,” said Zeke.
He took the saddle from Cal, fully, and looked Cal up and down, and considered.
There was more to this than met the eye. The sleepless night that had left its mark, the bruises on Cal’s skin, his lack of experience around Bolt.
He needed to figure out what was going on, and quickly, so he could help Cal adjust to the valley and so they could move forward with the riding lessons for the rest of the summer.
If he had to teach Cal from the ground up, then so be it. He just needed to find out the truth first.
“You don’t know anything about horses, do you.”
The expression on Cal’s face moved from bravado to fear. There was nowhere for Cal to go. If he backed up, he’d bump into Bolt. If he moved forward, he’d tumble against Zeke.
Something had happened to this young man to make him fearful and secretive and so self-reliant he would not ask for help.
“You can tell me the truth,” said Zeke.
Zeke could just about translate the response in Cal’s blue eyes to words:You’ll get mad if I do that.
Someone had taught Cal to lie. To be fearful of falling short. To dance around, dance away, a yearling in flight that could not be caught, let alone cornered or tamed.
Silently considering, Zeke walked the saddle back to the top wooden rail of the paddock. He gave himself a minute of looking beyond the paddock to the pasture, a huge expanse that hugged the shore of Half Moon Lake and stretched beyond beneath the trees.
He could force Cal to tell him the truth. But just like with a young horse, green broke and new, you couldn’t force them to their breaking point or you’d ruin them for any rider. The same went for Cal, so he would try a different way.
