Page 32 of High Density

Plan B, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

“Okay. By chance have you towed the horse trailer before?”

I know it’s a long shot, but I’ve noticed the hitch on her older GMC Jimmy. I’m hoping maybe she’s hauled something before. It’s not ideal, but it’s not that far and the trailer would be empty coming here. But her answer knocks the bottom out of that plan.

“No,” she scoffs. “That would freak me out.”

“I have a horse here I need to move ASAP. Got any brilliant ideas?”

“Maybe…I saw JD’s old pickup come up the drive earlier. He must be working on your house. I could ask him.”

“That’s okay, I’ll call him.”

He answers my call a minute later and I explain my need. Twenty minutes after that, I watch him pull my little horse trailer onto the rodeo grounds. He skillfully backs it up to the gate of the small enclosure I have the horse confined in.

“Hey.”

He grins, stalking toward me, his long legs eating up the distance. A large hand hooks me by the neck as he bends his head to lay a kiss on me. It’s what he’s done the past few days; kiss me when he sees me, kiss me a little harder when he leaves, but nothing other than the promise of more. Lord knows I’m ready formore.

“This the horse?” He nudges to the roan.

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a bit skittish,” I warn him when he approaches.

I’d been able to handle him okay, but I noticed his response had been distinctly different when a man came close.

“I’d expect so,” JD returns, taking the lead from my hand.

Then he slowly approaches the animal with an outstretched hand as he mumbles soothing words in a low voice.

The horse is on high alert, his ears are pricked, his nostrils are flared, and I can see a slight tremble in the muscles of his neck. Still, when JD offers him the palm of his hand, the animal tentatively brushes it with his lips. Still alert, but not fearful.

“Can you get the gate for me? Or do you want to do the honors?”

“Either way is fine by me,” I assure him.

As JD soothes the horse with his touch and clips on the lead, I quickly release the latch and open the gate to the pen. Then I release the ramp of the trailer which is lined up with the opening.

But the moment JD tries to get the horse to move, he rears on his hind legs.

“Whoa, easy boy.”

Instead of forcing the horse, JD moves with him, turning tight circles in the small pen. After passing by the wide-open gate a few times, the horse seems to relax a little. Then on the next pass, JD firmly leads the horse through the open gate, and this time the roan follows him straight into the back of the trailer.

“Nice work,” I compliment him when he climbs out of the small escape door at the front of the trailer.

“He could smell the hay I tossed in there before I left the barn. He’s already munching on it,” he points out as he follows me to the back of the trailer, where we lift the ramp back in place and bolt it shut.

Food is a great motivator, even for a bucking horse, apparently.

Showing my appreciation, I put my hands on his chest, lift up on my tiptoes, and press a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you. I’ll follow you home.”

I watch him as he heads for his pickup and climbs behind the wheel. Then I turn to walk to my own truck when I notice Phil Jericho standing in the open door of his trailer, watching me. I lift a hand in greeting, but instead of returning the gesture, he turns away and shuts the door behind him. Weird.

Instead of turning to the clinic, I park my truck in its usual spot outside the house, and walk over to where JD is already lowering the ramp of the trailer beside the barn doors.

“Before you get him out, let me check if Frankie got the stall ready for him.”

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