Page 21 of The Cowboy Who Worked Late

“Okay,” Angel said. “I’ll get her saddled.”

“I can do it,” Henry said.

“I can do it too, cowboy.” She trailed her fingers along the top of the ball, got it to bump along the dirt with her as she walked toward Nevaeh. “Come on, Nevaeh,” she said in a much more chipper voice. “Let’s get you saddled for a ride.”

Henry watched her go because he could saddle a horse in two seconds flat, and he knew Angel could too.

He wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, but he wanted to make it right. So he let out a sigh and followed her, a silent prayer in his mind, in his heart, for God to give him the right words to say.

I need to bring her closer to me, not further away. She doesn’t have anyone.That thought struck through him like someone hitting a gong.She doesn’t have anyone.

The truth was, Angel was surrounded by people. Lots and lots of people. But no one took care of her. She took care of all of them. She took care of every cowboy. She took care of her mom and dad. She took care of Trevor. So if Henry could find a way to take care of her, he was going to do it.

He found her in the tack room, and he said, “This is her stuff right here,” handing her the saddle. He then moved to get some for Cinnamon, the horse he would ride.

Within five minutes, she swung up into the saddle, and Henry did the same next to her.

“I’ll just follow you,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, and he set off toward the south, toward the river.

It ran between this ranch and Finn’s place, and Henry thought that might be a talking point that they could get to when they finally got there.

Nevaeh and Cinnamon seemed to know their way, and Henry barely steered, barely held the reins, and barely held his thoughts back. After a few minutes, the overwhelming urge to apologize to her came into his mind. He pushed against it; he hadn’t done anything wrong. Henry had always pushed against apologizing and admitting something he’d done wrong, but in the end, he always did it.

So after another few minutes of the Lord needling him and needling him to the point of irritation, Henry looked over to Angel and said, “I’m real sorry about what I said about Trevor.”

She rode a step or two behind him, and he had to twist to look at her. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“You got upset,” he said.

“Upset’s the wrong word,” she said.

“Okay, then tell me what you got.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just irritating. Nobody knows what it’s like to take care of Trevor except for me, because I’m the one who takes care of Trevor.”

“I know that,” Henry said. “That’s why I offered the equine therapy. Because then someone other than you could take care of Trevor.”

“You?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he shot back. “Me. What’s wrong with that?”

Angel looked like she might say something else, and then she clamped her mouth closed and pressed her lips together.

Yeah, he thought.Nothing’s wrong with that.

He faced forward again because he didn’t want to fight with Angel. He tipped his head back to absorb the sunlight, and he let Three Rivers wrap him in a hug and steal away all of his frustration, his irritation, his loneliness—anything that wasn’t good for him. He simply let it go and bled it out into the land in front of him. When he opened his eyes again, he said, “I reallyam sorry. I don’t want you to be upset with me, or irritated, or frustrated, or anything.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” he said.

When they got to the river, Angel jumped down, threw the reins over a pole, and walked right to the edge of it.

“It runs fast in the spring,” he said. “Not so much right now.”

---