Chapter Eight
Wednesday, March 21st
Eleanor awakened, still smarting from what happened at the elevator as she climbed out from beneath the warm covers. After setting up the coffee pot, she sat facing the window on the floor in the living room area. Crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
She took another deep breath in and slowly exhaled. The tension melted away as she gradually relaxed deeper with each breath. She pictured a warm, purple light spreading from the top of her head down to her toes. As the light washed over her, circled and protected her, she reflected on something she felt grateful for: Wes’s handsome face and how she felt in his arms.
“Thank you.” She stayed still and quiet.
* * *
Troy sipped his coffee as he sat at his desk, going through the phone dumps concerning the staff manual. “Hey, good news. Only five didn’t follow the instructions. None were security providers. Two medical staff, two ancillary staff and one dog trainer. I’ll send an email to their immediate supervisors.”
“That’s good,” Wes sighed.
“You’re still upset about last night?”
“What do you think? The look in her eyes. She was so hurt.” Wes rubbed the heel of his hand against his heart.
“You having chest pain?” Troy’s voice rose.
“Emotional,” Wes admitted.
“You’re in the age group.”
“Where did you earn your cardiology degree?” Wes snapped at him.
“‘Mr. Bremen, you sustained a serious thoracic cavity injury. Your heart stopped numerous times; at your age, if you feel chest pain, you must speak with your physician,’” Troy mimicked one of his doctors. “Do you know how many times I heard that?”
“I’m sorry.” Wes looked down.
Troy slammed his hand on his desk. “Damn it, I told you that because I’m worried about you, asshat.”
“I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?” Wes cocked his head.
Troy’s brows scrunched. “I’m not a china doll. I’ll let you know when I want a pity party.”
“I’ll get the staff started on today’s program,” Wes said with a shake of his head.
* * *
The department directors didn't have to attend the morning orientation. Eleanor finished dressing and headed to the stables, where Luke was observing Bogey and Hepburn when she arrived.
“Good morning, Miss Ellie, good to see you. They're hanging in this morning.” He was referring to the two horses she and Wes picked up the day before.
“I'm thrilled to see this. Hopefully they'll keep going in the right direction. How is Louis XIV?” Ellie asked about the skittish horse from the day before.
“He’s still off. I tried taking him out for a ride. One of my hands did too. I don't know. I'm worried he may go off with one of the new clients.”
Eleanor held her finger over her lips, then stood in front of Louis’s stall. “What are we going to do with you, boy?” She reached into the stall, and the horse came to her, nuzzling her hand. “How about we go for a ride? Luke, we've tried a western saddle on him. Maybe they got it wrong on the invoice. Do you have a light English saddle? Worst case scenario, he drops me in a pile of dirt.”
Luke's eyes narrowed. “Missy, the worst thing that can happen is Mr. Crockett will put you over his knee and give you a fine spanking.”
Eleanor chuckled. Luke brought her an English saddle and bridle. With his help, Eleanor saddled the horse, secured all the straps, and, wearing a helmet and her dark sunglasses, she mounted the back of the animal. A barn hand led them out into the small corral.
Eleanor started slowly and walked the horse around the oval. Feeling secure with Louis’s behavior, she picked up the pace. Now in a slow trot, she posted for the lap around the corral. The next gait was a cantor. With a tuck of her pelvis and a tightness of her calf, the animal complied.
“Luke, he's used to an English saddle. Look at him.”
