“Now, how did this fairy knot get in here, Dusty?” Zeke asked in a low voice. “Did one take a ride on you while we were at lunch?”
It took Cal a moment to realize that Zeke was talking to the horse like it was a person. Cal stopped, bridle clasped between his hands, new cowboy boots kicking up a puff of dust.
A wash of sweetness swept over him. Any man who was kind to animals, even when no one was looking, had to be good.
Which maybe meant that just because Cal had failed to figure out what kind of man Preston was, didn’t mean that he was bad at reading people altogether.
“What’s a fairy knot?” asked Cal as he came up to Zeke, getting an eyeful of broad shoulders and those strong hands, nimble on the horse’s mane. The loving pat that Zeke gave Dusty’s neck.
“Oh.”
Zeke turned, the faintest-faintest-faintest blush on his tanned cheeks showing he’d not known Cal was there, close enough to hear him.
“A fairy knot,” said Zeke, clearing his throat. “It’s when you find a twisted bit of mane or tail. Like this. Here’s another one.”
Zeke reached in and pulled out a strand of mane and showed it to Cal. All Cal could see was a tangle of hair that ended in a lump of a small knot.
“It’s an old legend,” Zeke said, turning the knot this way and that. “They say that fairies visit stables in the middle of the night and make braids with knots in manes and tails to use as reins and stirrups. Then they ride the horses underneath the moon. And you can tell that they’ve been by because of these.”
All of a sudden, beneath the soothing poetry of those words, Cal could see, exactly so, that the knot now resembled a place where a fairy foot could rest, and where tiny fairy hands could grasp to guide the horse on a wild nighttime ride.
Rather than reply to Cal’s astonished expression, Zeke focused on untangling the knot, head bent, shoulders relaxed, as if the task was going to take as long as it took, and he was completely unbothered by this fact. Another charming detail was the way he hummed beneath his breath as he soothed the straightened strands with his fingers.
He had to be the sweetest man the Cal had ever met or even heard of.
“There you go, Dusty,” said Zeke, half to himself as he used his fingers as a comb to the rest of Dusty’s mane. “All set for the next ride.”
Cal laughed beneath his breath and let the bridle go when Zeke took it from him. And watched as Zeke organized the various thick straps of the bridle, how he looped the long reins over one arm. And grasped the metal bit in his hand.
“As a courtesy to your horse,” said Zeke. “Always warm up the bit, rain or shine. Wind or weather.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cal, but he said it with a smile to show that he wasn’t being sarcastic or anything.
He watched closely as Zeke took off the green halter, stowing it on Dusty’s neck for a moment, then put on the bridle, and looped the reins over Dusty’s shoulders, well, withers, as Zeke had taught him.
“Your horse is always under your control,” said Zeke, unbuckling the green halter all the way and hanging it over a fence pole. “So you must always be careful and slow. Let your horse know where you are and what you are doing at all times.”
“How does it know?” asked Cal. “I mean, how does Dusty know?”
“From the position of your body,” said Zeke. “From the sounds you are making with the bridle or brush. Over time, your horse gets to know you, but you always let him know what you are doing, so he knows what you expect of him.”
Cal had a feeling that Zeke didn’t just do this kind of behavior with horses, but with humans, too. That what you saw was what you got.
“Now, what I expect of you is this.” Zeke guided Cal to come around to Zeke’s right, and touched him on the shoulder, quite gently, to get him to face Dusty’s side. “I’m going to give you a leg up, and then I’m going to walk you around the paddock so you can get a feel for what it’s like to be on a horse. And also, so I can get a sense of what kind of balance you have. Are you ready?”
He was not ready. His heartbeat had picked up and sweat started to crawl beneath his arms and between his legs. But this was Zeke asking. Kind, patient Zeke, who wanted Cal to trust him and who seemed willing to trust Cal in return. Plus, the kindness in those green eyes, the steadiness of those hands that had yet to hurt Cal, was hard to ignore.
“Sure,” he said, not sure at all. “Sure.”
Zeke placed Cal’s hands on Dusty’s withers, then bent to tuck his hands around Cal’s leg.
“Step up,” he said, as if he figured Cal knew exactly whatStep upmeant, though it resulted in an awkward scramble where, two seconds later, Zeke’s hand on Cal’s thigh, Cal was sitting on Dusty’s broad back, the warmth of his sun-warmed coat soaking through Cal’s blue jeans.
Looking up at him, Zeke’s green eyes glimmered from the shadow of the brim of his hat.
“Shift a bit,” said Zeke, his fingers sprawled on Cal’s thigh. Reassuring. Gentle. Warm. “Roll back and up on your hips to see which position feels the most steady. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll walk you around.”
Cal was never going to be ready. Never, never, never. But Zeke was waiting, still looking up at him, and Dusty stamped a hoof into the dust, his body tightening beneath Cal, as if to ask,Are you ready now? How about now? And now?
