“Okay.”
We finished eating and Rey told me he’d clean up while I went to the back.
I exited the house through the front door just to put my boots back on, and then rounded the house, glancing at the walls and windows for things that needed repairing. The house was lovely and cozy in a way that went well with the trees surrounding it.
I frowned at the sight of the orchard, because it was far enough from the concrete slab next to the back door that there was a stretch of open sky in between. Oh well. The front would work better if that would be an issue for Rey.
I had already started to concoct a way to get the kid to the stable one day soon. He could probably handle the space and there was plenty to do for someone who wanted to hang out with horses. Sadly the large open area of the paddocks and the lawn between the closest door into the stable would likely cause an issue.
I moved the patio furniture to the side, against the house, and made sure the grill was out of the way, too. Any horse I chose would be content standing on the large concrete slab for a while.
The back door opened and Rey peered out carefully.
“How are you feeling?” I asked gently.
He got as far as the top step and swallowed hard. “I…it’s…a lot.”
“I know. How about you go check the front yard and let me know if that’s any better for today. Then text me? I’ll be going toward the stable anyway, so it’s your choice if I return with a horse or not.”
He nodded rapidly and closed the door.
I started to walk, and before I even made it halfway to the stable, my phone buzzed.
“Sorry, can’t do it yet. Ask me again tomorrow?” Then, after a few beats, another message appeared. “Sorry.”
I felt rage toward whatever or whoever had made the kid so damn scared and apologetic. He’d been so adamant about his family not knowing where he was.
Instead of getting too into my head about it, I just texted back. “Anytime, kid. I promise.”
* * * *
When I checked on her, Sierra had been doing office stuff and she’d left early to go meet her mom for some shopping in Joliet. On her way out, she’d told me she had a good feeling about Lake and the others, and that somehow things would get better. I prayed to whatever deity might be listening that she was right.
I was riding Ursula, our ornery mixed breed mare in the outdoor arena when the boys came back from town.
Ursula was notorious for her hatred of touches, so getting her saddled could be an exercise in patience and cunning, and some bribery. However, once you got into the saddle, she changed. I had built some cavaletti and rode her over them. They were low enough that she didn’t need to jump, just lift her legs up a bit more than usual, which she did with her ears pointed forward.
In my peripheral vision, I could tell Lake and River were hauling in shopping bags, but I concentrated fully on Ursula, who was having the time of her life.
Eventually, as I let her relax for a while with loose reins, Lake sauntered over with a bag in his hand.
“Hey,” I said calmly, letting Ursula do her thing.
“Hey, that’s Ursula, right?” Lake asked, leaning on the arena fence.
“Yup. She’s hard to get saddled but she’s amazing to ride.”
He lifted the bag. “I have your stuff. Can I take the ice cream to your cabin’s freezer before it melts?”
“Sure, there’s only the little freezer in the fridge.”
“All right, be right back!” He beamed a smile and jogged off toward my place.
It took him a few minutes to come back, and by then I was doing random dressage moves with Ursula. She was practically prancing, unable to concentrate, because she was so hyped up about what we were doing.
“Have you jumped her?” Lake leaned against the fence.
“Yeah, a couple of times. It’s annoying, because adjusting the jumps means getting off the horse.”
