or give her at least one good reason why she shouldn’t let Clara anywhere near Ms. Bolton or her horses. Hopefully that reason would come today.
There was no paved parking area near the barn, so he pulled into the same spot he’d parked in the last time. Glancing to his left, he spotted two horses close to the fence. They seemed to be studying his arrival with interest. He thought one of them might be the infamous Brutus. He could swear the animal on the right gave him a look of pure dislike, lifting his head to follow Mike’s movements as he got out of the car. He had to fight not to climb back into his vehicle and beat a hasty retreat.
“Well, guess what? The feeling’s mutual.” He tossed the words at the animal, only to stiffen when a quiet feminine voice answered him.
“What feeling is that?”
He swiveled around. Patricia Bolton had evidently come out of the barn when she’d heard his car drive up. He shrugged. “Just talking to myself.”
She glanced out at the pasture, where Brutus was still staring at them. “I see.”
“Ms. Bolton, look, maybe we can save ourselves both a whole lot of—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Call me Trisha. My patients do.”
His patients called him Dr. Mike, but it seemed a little presumptuous to ask her to do the same. So he said, “Okay...Trisha. Why don’t you call me Mike?”
“Great. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you how I prepare for my first clients of the day.”
So much for leaving. She’d smoothly intercepted any pre-emptive strike he might have made and disarmed him.
Following her inside the barn to the very place he’d lain with her on the ground, the image of tangled arms and legs and of fingers running up his thighs came back with frightening clarity. He swore he could still feel her touch. He shook his head to banish the sensation.
There was a horse tethered in the same position that Brutus had been the other day, only this time there was some sort of saddle draped over a post, along with a brightly patterned blanket. “I was just grooming him before saddling up. This is Crow.”
Pitch black without the slightest trace of white, the animal’s coat had a healthy gleam that made Mike think she’d gussied him up just to show him off. His mane was even braided. She needn’t have bothered, though. Because just standing there near the horse made his gut contract.
“Do you want to touch him?” Trisha walked right over to the animal and stroked a hand down his neck, smoothing a misplaced braid.
“That’s okay.” He kept to the far side of the aisle, hoping against hope there wasn’t going to be another incident like the one a couple of days ago.
“Come on. He won’t hurt you. You’ve agreed to ride him next week, so you might as well get some of the preliminaries out of the way.”
What had he been thinking, coming out here again? His wife had died handling one of these animals. Did he really want to do this? No. But something about Trisha’s quiet voice and calm manner made him take a step closer. She wasn’t afraid at all.
But, then, Marcy hadn’t been either. And yet in the blink of an eye she’d been gone. And he’d still had to deal with her horses and clients in the midst of everything else. Thankfully, one of her close friends had helped out, going as far as buying the horse that had turned his world upside down. He’d tried to warn her off, but Gloria had insisted it was what Marcy would have wanted, that what had happened had been a tragic accident and not the horse’s fault. She was probably right.
Still, he didn’t want to be trapped in a confined space with one. Anything could happen. “Okay, but could we do this outside the barn?”
She blinked, but nodded. “Sure. Let me just saddle him up.”
Making short work of it, she talked him through the process of swapping the animal’s halter for a bridle, and then she explained the parts of the therapy saddle and showed him how to put it and the blanket on and how to tighten the strap beneath the horse’s belly. Why she thought he needed to know any of this, he had no idea. Marcy had taken him at his word when he’d said he wasn’t interested in riding. She’d never tried to force the issue. Maybe partly to cover up what she’d really been doing at the barn.
If he’d been with her that last day, would she still be alive?
That was something he really didn’t want to think about too closely.
She gave the saddle one last check then said, “Okay, let’s lead him outside.”
His lips quirked. “No wheelbarrow today?”
“Nope.” She grinned back at him. “You lucked out.”
He wasn’t sure he’d consider this lucking out, but he’d do whatever it took to get through this and head back to his own job. Where he felt secure and confident.
Like the last time he’d been here, he remained at Trisha’s side as she told him that a horse should always be led from the left. “Have you ever been around horses at all?”
How to explain without...explaining? “I have, but I haven’t worked with them closely.”
There. Not bad.
Then she arrived at a rectangular fenced-in area that was covered with sandy-looking material. It appeared to have been freshly raked, a system of grooves running through the grains—for his benefit? She stopped and tied the reins to the middle fence post and glanced at her watch. “We still have about five minutes before Bethany arrives so why don’t you introduce yourself to him? Come stand next to me.”
Mike stiffened when she patted the animal on the neck. It was either explain why he had an aversion to horses or do as she asked. He moved closer as she continued stroking the animal.
“This is how I’d approach a patient who’s here for the first time.” She took Mike by the hand, her fingers firm against his as she lifted it and pressed his palm to the animal’s coat, slowly guiding it down the length of the neck. “Isn’t he smooth?”
Was he supposed to answer her? Because, no, it didn’t feel smooth. All he could think about was how anything could happen. In the time it took for him to blink. And that familiar horsy smell that had clung to Marcy whenever she’d come home from the barn... It was right here, with all its terrible reminders of secret meetings and half-truths.
None of it was comforting.
And yet as Trisha continued to guide his hand in slow sweeping strokes over Crow’s coat, the horse stood extremely still, as if he somehow sensed the turmoil lurking just below the surface. And slowly the textures and temperature of the animal’s body began to make themselves known.
“Relax,” she murmured, her voice like the softest silk. “He won’t hurt you.”
He couldn’t bring himself to let his muscles go loose, but he did try to concentrate on things other than how huge and powerful the animal was. Like the warm grip of Trisha’s hand as she held his. Like the scent of her hair and the tickle of her ponytail as it brushed his neck when she twisted her head. He concentrated on her instead of the horse. She bent a little lower, her hand guiding
