Page 33 of High Density

“Does he have a name?” JD wants to know.

I shrug. “I heard them call him Big Red, but I don’t know if that was referring to his color, or his actual name.”

His coat graduates from the deep red chestnut color of his head and neck, to the almost white blend on his hindquarters. But his tail is red like his mane and he has a white blaze down his face.

“Call him Red, everyone can see he’s big,” JD suggests.

I give him a nod in agreement before I poke my head into the barn to see Frankie left the stall door open and appears to have spread fresh straw inside. Then I give JD a thumbs-up, indicating he can bring the horse inside.

Ten minutes later, with a little coaxing from JD and some fresh oats from me, we’re hanging over the half door, watching Red explore his new stall.

“What are you gonna do with him?”

I glance at JD and shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure. Get him better first, I guess.”

“You can always talk to Lucy at Hart’s Rescue. Maybe she can take him in.”

The thought crossed my mind when I was waiting for JD to get there with the trailer, but I don’t really want to pawn the poor animal off on someone else.

“As a last resort,” I concede. “I was thinking maybe I could see if he could be retrained to ride.”

JD turns to me with a dubious expression on his face.

“These bucking horses are notoriously difficult to rehabilitate,” he cautions me. “If bucking is all they’ve known their whole life, it may be an impossible feat.”

I hold out my hand when Red closes in, curiously sniffing, and I feel a small sense of triumph when he lets me stroke his soft nose.

“But he’s fairly young still. I think maybe I’d like to try.”

“It’s gonna be a lot of work.”

Red seems to have satisfied his curiosity with us and returns to the bucket of oats hanging on the wall. I step away from the door and turn to face JD.

“I know, but I feel like I owe it to him to try.”

One side of his mouth tilts up. On its own it’s barely a smile, but when you add his warm, dark eyes, fine lines fanning out from their corners, it couldn’t be any clearer.

“In that case, I’m happy to help,” he shares, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the door. “But first let’s eat.”

I snort. “It’ll have to be takeout because my fridge is empty.”

He lifts my hand to his mouth for a kiss on my knuckles.

“No need. I made us chili and cornbread.”

Chapter Ten

Janey

“Haveyou talked to your sister yet?”

If it wasn’t for the brief hesitation before he closes the tailgate of his truck, I’d have thought he didn’t hear me.

He hasn’t said much about Saturday night at all. I haven’t pushed him on the subject, but he’s been here every free moment since then, and this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him ignore a call when his phone rings.

“No.”

He turns to face me and I expect to be told to mind my own business, but he surprises me.

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