“Wow. That smells rich and not like the sludge that passes for caffeine around here,” I say.
“Figured if you were going to tell me the truth about my horse, I could at least start the day right.”
I almost smile, but don’t. If my suspicions are correct, there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with that colt.
“I didn’t know how you take it,” he adds. “Couldn’t call to ask, so I guessed.”
That part is intentional. I can hear it in his voice. He wants to know he can contact me. I hand him the invoice.
“My phone number is on here.”
He scans it once, nods, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded check already filled out and signed.
I take it, glance at the amount, then meet his eyes. “Thank you. I look forward to working with Red Ledger.”
I gesture toward the cups. “Which is mine?”
He passes one to me, and this time when our fingers brush, neither of us pretends it didn’t happen.
“Like I said … I didn’t know what you like so I picked a salty caramel latte.”
“What prompted that choice?”
“Actually, it was the color of your eyes and … well, salty complements sweet.”
I lift the cup, testing the heat against my palm, and watch his face over the lid as I sip. It’s almost too sweet, but I also note the salty underneath. The coffee is more like a surprise.
“Thank you,” I say, and let him see that I mean it. “You’ll want to watch from the equipment room,” I tell him, nodding toward the small window cut into the wall that overlooks the enclosed training space. “There’s a bench next to it. You’ll see enough without being in the way.”
“I’ll stay where you tell me,” he says.
“You’re easier to train than most,” I say, suddenly realizing that sounded way too flirty. There’s a silence, like air before a thunderstorm. Harrison looks at me, and maybe he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
“I’m just kidding. You know that, right?” I confirm with him.
He nods, as if he knew all along but wanted to see if I’d walk it back.
Harrison smirks. “I do. But I like hearing you say it.”
I set my coffee down, pull on my gloves, and shoulder past him into the aisle. Red Ledger is already waiting in the round pen when I step inside. He’s loose, but very alert to me. Hisenergy is coiled tight like a spring he hasn’t decided to release. The handler stands outside the fence this time and I ask him to move back to the gravel drive area where he will still be nearby and able to view.
I make sure not to look in his or Harrison’s direction. This horse is smart and I don’t want him distracted as we get to know one another. I’m sure Harrison’s settled at the window, watching. Red Ledger knows Harrison, but what is his impression of the man? For that matter, what is mine? He’s handsome, almost in a charismatic way. I stop my thoughts there and focus on watching the colt move.
At first, he circles fast, head high, eyes sharp. He feels frisky with his semi-freedom to roam and he’s testing the situation. Showing off a bit too. I don’t step toward him or make any noises. I just exist in the same space, stay calm and let the rhythm find us both. This is the part people think looks like nothing if they’re watching.
Minutes pass and the colt’s pace eases. His ears flick. He watches me watch him. Good.
I shift my weight just barely. Red Ledger mirrors it without realizing he’s doing it. When he stops, I remain still. When he lowers his head an inch, I don’t rush to reward it.
Pressure from handlers taught him to brace. Stillness will teach him choice. I wait him out. Horses have more time than humans, but I have more patience than most horses. Ultimately, they’re curiosity will win.
The round pen is silent except for the dull scuff of Ledger’s hooves and his breath, which gradually deepens, almost matching my own. I let him settle, then I turn my shoulder, breaking eye contact, and make my body soft. That’s the invitation. He takes it, almost shy, stepping in a few strides closer. Not crowding, but clearly curious now.
The change is subtle with a sparkle in his dark eyes. I notice the way his ribs stop pulsing so hard beneath the gleam of his coat. I let this jewel of a moment exist, then take one deliberate step toward him. Not aggressive, just a shift of weight. He holds his ground. Beautiful.
I crouch, not looking at him now, pretending to be busy with something in the dirt. Red Ledger’s shadow stretches long between us, then closes. I hear the soft thud of his step as he comes closer. Then, I feel a tickle at the nape of my neck. I feel the subtle rise of air when he extends his nose, sniffing at the edge of my jacket. I don’t move, don’t even blink.
A hot exhale brushes my hair. He’s right there checking me out. If he wanted to, he could bite or bolt. He doesn’t. Instead, he satisfies his curiosity about me.
