“No.”
“Exactly. Grab the list of names from the house, and then get to work. It’s going to take you days to get caught up. We’ve got the farrier coming in this weekend.”
“Other than the mare, is there an order I should be following?”
“No. Take your pick once you get the list from the house.”
She glances out the door to where the black horse is still standing in the round pen. He’s no longer pacing, but the progress has stopped there. I’ve met and worked with a handful of stubborn studs, but this one is testing me. He wants nothingto do with anyone here. The closest I’ve been able to get is the dirt a few feet away from him.
“What about that one? He’s a mess.”
My muscles turn to cement. “You don’t go near him. Is that clear?”
“He’s filthy. How long has he been here? Has anyone checked him?”
“He’s been looked over. Had to sedate him for Katie to get close enough to look him over. He’s healthy.”
“Medically, maybe,” she says, her voice lowering with obvious concern.
I can see every single idea she has as it passes through her gaze. Before she can say another word, I take hold of her arm, jerking just hard enough to pull her attention. Her brows knit together when she glares at where I’m gripping her.
She shakes her arm in a feeble attempt to break free. I tighten my hold, moving closer so she has no choice but to crane her head back to keep eye contact. The roll of her jaw is only stoking my anger.
“I fucking mean it, Tilly. You leave that bastard alone.”
“You’re not my keeper, and it’s not okay for him to be in that state. He’s filthy, and I haven’t even gotten close enough to see how bad he is. You can’t genuinely think he’s comfortable like that?”
“You know better than to think I’m trying to neglect him. The moment you go in there, he’s going to come at you, and grooming will be the last thing you or any of us will be concerned about. Do you think a brushing is worth a broken rib? A smashed face?” The words are harsh, brutally cruel. I don’t soften in the slightest as I add, “He’s terrified of people. If you go at him before he trusts you, all you’ll do is prove what he’s already thinking about us.”
Her exhale is harsh as she tears her arm from my hold and takes a step back. “He’s suffering out there.”
“No, he’s not. That pen is the safest place he’s ever fucking been.”
“Is he yours?”
The question surprises me. I pause, grappling with my frustration. Without it, I don’t trust myself around her. Not when she’s asking me shit like this.
“No. He’s here to get better, and then he’s gone.”
“Who hurt him?”
“Everyone.”
Tilly’s peach-coloured lips curl downward. I watch her too closely. It’s careless how desperate I am to learn every little thing she’s thinking. A disease is what it is. One my body’s only recognizing again now that she’s back.
One of the first times I felt like this, I was watching her in the stuffy courtroom where I received my official sentence. She stared right at me the entire time the judge spoke, never once shying away. Everything was a disaster back then. I always thought she only showed that day because of her loyalty to me and her brother. But once those letters started, things twisted for me in a way they never were supposed to.
Now, I only wish I hadn’t put pen to paper.
“He should stay, then.”
“We have no use for him here.”
“So what, you’re the only angry bastard allowed to call this place home?”
My smirk is supposed to warn her off. It draws her closer instead.
“I’m a Carrigan.”
