on that one.
Using Patches as his example, Nate showed the teens how to approach a horse and where to stand, and after saddling each horse, he explained how their attitudes would put the animals at ease—or rile them. Before long, the group was ambling single file on the bridle path that ringed the Double M pond before meandering into the woods beyond the corral, doing their best to stay upright and in control of their mounts. “I’m just so proud I could cry!” Eden said, bringing her horse alongside his. “They’ll remember this for the rest of their lives. I can’t thank you enough, Nate. You don’t know how much good you’ve already done them.”
He was too busy wondering what her hair looked like under that Baltimore Orioles baseball cap to answer. Was it long and thick? Or did it just seem that way because of the curly bangs poking out from under the bill?
She quirked an eyebrow, proof that she’d caught him staring.
“What’s with the hat? You’re not a Colorado Rockies fan?” With any luck, she’d believe it had been the Orioles logo that had captured his attention, not her pretty face.
“I was born in Baltimore, and my dad held season tickets. He took me and my brother to nearly every home game.” On the heels of a wistful sigh, she added, “I sure do miss him...”
“How long ago did you lose him?”
She waved, as if the question was an annoying mosquito. “My folks were killed nearly fifteen years ago.”
Her tone told him something more sinister than an accident had been responsible for their deaths. But how her parents had died was none of his business. Maybe he’d ask Shamus.
“Afterward, we came to live with my dad’s parents, here in Denver. After graduation, my brother went back east for a while. Joined the Baltimore County police force. But a year or so ago, Stuart signed on with the Boulder PD.” Smirking, she drew quote marks in the air. “To keep an eye on me, he said.”
A good idea, considering what she did for a living. “How old were you guys when you moved here?”
“I was twelve, Stuart was nine.”
Nate could only shake his head. At that age, he’d spent half his time shirking chores and the other half thinking up excuses when his parents caught him at it. The tension continued through his teen years, but these days, he considered them close friends. Nate glanced ahead at the boys, who had lost or been taken from their parents and now looked to Eden as their surrogate mother.
She leaned forward to whisper something in her horse’s ear. This may have been the boys’ first time in the saddle, but it definitely wasn’t Eden’s. “So your dad was a native Coloradan?”
“Yes, but he joined the army right out of college and they stationed him at Fort Meade, where Mom was a clerk in the records office.” She looked over at him. “What about you? Did you move to Maryland when the team signed you?”
“No, I was already out there, attending the University of Maryland.”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember reading about that in the article. You were majoring in animal husbandry and playing for the school’s baseball team when a scout saw you.”
Nate snickered quietly. “You remember more about that fluff piece than I do.”
“I’d hardly call it fluff. But it says a lot about you, that you don’t buy into your own publicity.” Eden winked. “Gotta admire a guy who’s comfortable in his own skin.”
Miranda had majored in communications and minored in psychology, so he’d heard enough psychobabble to choke Patches. Her insistence on analyzing his every word, action and reaction had been the main bone of contention between them. If she hadn’t taken her eyes off the road to rant at him about his indecisiveness...
“Long, long way between then and now,” he ground out. And to smother any platitudes she might spout, Nate said, “Did you and your brother spend summers back east?”
Eden was silent for several moments. “No. My mom’s parents visited once, about five years after...” She shrugged. “We raced around doing so many touristy things, there wasn’t time to reconnect. We saw them a time or two after that, and then their health declined.”
She fell quiet again. “Stuart looks a lot like my mom, and I inherited her mannerisms. It’s nobody’s fault that we reminded our grandparents of their only child, but it explains why it was tough for them to be around us.” Another shrug. “Listen to me, droning on and on about the past. What a bore!”
He laughed with her, although he found her anything but boring. Nate nodded toward her charges. “Takes a courageous woman to take on a challenge like that.”
She glanced ahead on the trail, where the boys joked and talked as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And for the moment at least, they didn’t.
“Oh, believe me, I haven’t reached all of them,” she said softly. “Yet.”
He might have asked what she meant, if he hadn’t noticed one of the boys leaning too far right in the saddle.
Eden saw it, too. “Uh-oh. Thomas won’t take it well if he falls.”
Man, what he wouldn’t give to know what that meant!
“Don’t worry. Nobody will fall. Not on my watch.”
Nate rode up the line, knowing Thomas’s mount would automatically match his own horse’s pace. “Thirsty?” he asked, holding out a bottle of water.
“No way. If I let go of this handle, I’ll end up in the pond.”
He didn’t bother correcting the boy. “Use your knees, everyone,” he said loudly enough for the others to hear. “That’ll let your horse know you’re the boss and help you keep your balance.”
Something about Thomas unnerved him. That almost-smirk on his face, for starters...like he was up to no good. The feeling stayed with him for the rest of the afternoon, as he showed the boys how to remove and stow saddles, blankets, bits and harnesses, taught them how to brush the horses’ coats, and lectured them on the dangers of overfeeding or overwatering the horses following a long ride.
He put them to work mucking the back stalls, and when they finished that, he pointed to the pitchforks and shovels hanging on the wall. “Wheelbarrows are out back. Fill ’em up and roll ’em out there,” he instructed, pointing at the steaming mound near the tree line.
Last, Nate asked for help moving sacks of feed from the grain shed to the barn. And the whole time, he made it his business to know where Thomas was.
Eden pitched in and pulled more than her fair share of the load. They were all red-faced and sweating by the time they were finished.
“Good job, y’all,” Nate told them. “Go ahead and grab your gear, and meet me at the bunkhouse so I can explain how we do things around here.”
Kirk led them toward the driveway as, too tired to complain or ask what he meant, the boys muttered about achy muscles and blisters on their palms. He’d expected to lose them after the first wheelbarrow tipped. Surprisingly, they stuck it out. Even Thomas.
Eden
