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“I did.”

“Without me.”

“An unfortunate necessity, considering you’re meant to stay in bed.”

He made a face, but his eye followed her as she came nearer.

“Buck was very pleased to meet me.”

“Was he?”

“He ate my apple and tried to eat a second breakfast.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Tater says he won’t tolerate another rider.”

Jesse’s mouth pulled sideways. “Depends on the rider.”

“Would he tolerate me?”

He took his time answering. “I could teach you how to ask him.”

Eden placed her reticule on the chair. “Ask a horse?”

“Best way to get along with one. You tell Buck what you’re after. Let him decide you’re worth the trouble.”

“Much like his owner, then.”

Jesse laughed. It still cost him, though the sound came easier than it had yesterday.

“Did you go to the livery to insult my horse or to see him?”

“To see him. The insults were a bonus.”

She sat beside the bed. The morning light showed some of the swelling had eased along his cheek, leaving the bruises darker and more distinct. His right hand rested against the blanket. When he shifted it, his fingers obeyed, slowly.

“Tell me what he did,” Jesse said.

Eden described the stolen oats, the apple, and the way Buck had searched her pockets. Jesse interrupted twice to correct her account of his horse’s manners. By the time she finished, he’d worked himself into a smile that lasted even when she fell quiet.

“You ought to see him when he gets loose,” he said. “Heads straight for Marmee’s garden. Knows where the carrots are.”

“Then perhaps I ought to meet Marmee next. To apologize on your behalf.”

“You’ll be there awhile.”

His hand shifted toward the edge of the mattress, closer to the arm of her chair.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She followed his gaze to the narrow blue ribbon tied around her wrist.

“My mother used it around a packet of handkerchiefs she made for me.”

“You kept the ribbon?”

“She stitched the edges herself. I hated to throw any of it away.”