"He's good with horses," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "That's what we hired him for."
"Mm." She took a sip of her own coffee, watching me over the rim. "You know, I was up early this morning. Couldn't sleep. Thought I saw someone walking back from the direction of your cabin."
My heart stopped.
Then restarted at approximately twice its normal speed.
"Probably one of the dogs," I said, and I was genuinely impressed by how level my voice came out. "They wander at night sometimes."
"Probably." Momma's expression didn't change. "Must have been a big dog. Looked like it was walking on two legs."
Shit.
"I wouldn't know anything about that." I set down my coffee cup with exaggerated casualness. "I slept straight through. Didn't hear a thing."
We stared at each other for a long moment—my mother with her knowing eyes and her patient silence, me with my crumbling composure and my desperate need to change the subject.
"I have to check on the irrigation contractor," I said. "He's supposed to be at the north pasture by nine."
"Of course." She stepped aside, letting me pass. "Oh, and Maggie?"
I paused at the door, my heart in my throat. “Yeah, Momma?"
"Whatever you're not telling me—" She smiled, soft and infuriatingly understanding. "I'm here when you're ready."
I fled before she could say anything else.
Work. Work was safe. Work was controllable. Work didn't make me feel things I wasn't prepared to feel.
I threw myself into the morning with the intensity of someone trying to outrun her own thoughts. Checked the cattle count. Reviewed the expansion timeline. Made three phone calls about equipment rentals and one very satisfying call to a contractor who'd been dodging my messages for a week. The man had sounded genuinely afraid by the time I hung up.
Good. Fear was useful. Fear got things done.
The distraction lasted about an hour.
Then I rounded the corner of the main barn and saw Jack.
He was in the training paddock, working with Dancer. The filly was calmer than she'd been even a few days ago—still cautious, but willingly following his lead now, letting him direct her through turns with nothing but body language and voice. A week ago, she wouldn't let anyone within ten feet. Sully lay near the fence, chin on his paws, one ear cocked.
Jack looked up as I approached.
And smiled.
Not a big smile. Not an obvious smile. Just a slight curve of his lips, a warmth in his eyes that said I remember last night and I liked it, and I'm not going to say a word about it unless you want me to.
"Morning, boss."
Boss!
He said it the same way he'd been saying it for a week. Polite. Professional. Giving absolutely nothing away.
Which was exactly what I'd asked for.
Which made me want to throw something at his head.
“Mr. Remington." My voice came out clipped. Sharper than I intended. "How's the filly?"
"Coming along. She's trusting the process."
