Page 16 of Sweet Beloved

“I have to go,” I say. “Just try to keep everybody in one piece.”

He yawns. “Yeah, can do.”

As I hang up and set my phone aside, my mind goes back to our conversation the other night. Slate turned out to be my most competent, level-headed child. It’s strange, because he started out being a big, bold personality, and as he grew, he became more of the strong, silent type. Gage did the same thing. He was bullish and quiet, and now he’s a bullish powerhouse. If I was going to make a bet about who’d be better going to college, I’d pick Gage, but that’s not my choice to make.

I get out of the truck, glad to leave these heavy thoughts behind for a minute.

“There just ain’t shit out here today,” says Jensen, taking off his hat and rubbing his sweat-streaked forehead.

“We can head up to the city. They’ve got an auction day going on too.”

He shakes his head, leaning on the truck’s hood. “Let’s go pick up your truck and head out to Carter Farms, get the feed pickup for the week, and be done with it. Call it a bust and get a beer.”

“I’m fine by that. My boys are already up there,” I say, getting back in and shifting to the passenger side. Jensen goes to grab his things from the tent and returns, turning on the air conditioning so loud, we can’t talk over it.

Jensen drops me at my truck and follows me back onto the highway, heading up towards Sovereign Mountain. We live in two different directions so it doesn’t make sense to carpool. That’s life in a rural area, but I don’t mind it.

Just before we get there, I take a left and go the roundabout way to Carter Farms. The two properties are connected now, making it a lot easier to get business done when we’re on this side of town. When we pull up, everyone is standing around in the yard, taking a water break. Jensen parks beside me, and I jump out, crossing the lawn to where Westin stands with Slate, Gage, and his son, River. He’s a lanky teen with a shock of brown hair and a rebellious streak. He’s also one of the more talented up and coming horsemen I’ve met, aside from Gage.

Westin turns as I pull up beside them, leaning on the fence. He jerks his head in greeting.

“Thought you all were at auction today,” he says.

“We meant to be, but it was a bust,” says Jensen, squinting through the sun.

“What are we all looking at?” I ask.

Slate moves up to the fence, planting his boot on the lowest rung. I follow his eyes to the middle of the pasture, where there’s a black horse with white socks grazing. It’s a fine specimen, less stocky than a quarter horse. I reach out, snapping my fingers. It lifts its head with a quick jerk and shies back, gaze locked on me.

“You got a problem horse?” I ask Westin.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say she’s a problem. This is one of River’s charity cases. We picked her up the other day. I think she’s got a little thoroughbred in her.”

Jensen moves closer for a look. “She’s got good form. I wonder if she had papers once upon a time.”

“I doubt it. I’d say she wasn’t worth investing in for her previous owners if she’s made it to adulthood without training,” I say, circling the paddock to the gate. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Knock yourself out,” says Westin.

“You come on in, River,” I say. “But stick with the gate for now.”

Elated, River slips through behind me and hangs back. The mare does a nervous circle, blowing heavy puffs from her lungs, head down. Instead of heading straight at her, I do a half circle around the paddock. I keep my eyes on hers, letting her get used to having me nearby.

She lets me walk up to her side without running. I lift my hand, and she tenses, but she doesn’t move. Slowly, so slowly, I lay my palm on her side. She stays tense. I don’t move. Then, her head swings around, and she sniffs my arm. Her velvety nose moves up my arm, and she takes a hay-smelling inhale and exhale into my face.

I keep quiet, still, but I move my hand up her neck, turning to face her. Every move I make, she shies, but she relaxes a moment later. I turn slowly, wrapping my arm beneath her neck. There it is again: a tense. Then, she relaxes her neck into the crook of my elbow and lets me pat her nose with my other hand.

“Hey, girl, you’re all good,” I murmur, testing how she reacts to my voice. She pricks her ears but doesn’t tense up this time. I lift my head, jerking it to River to indicate he should join me.

Slowly, he puts one foot over the other until he stands just a foot away. I keep my hand on the mare’s neck, pressure even. Her dark eyes are glassy, following River as he gets close. I don’t speak, because I’ve helped River train a few of his horses, and he knows how to approach a skittish one. I just keep still to reassure the mare until River can reach out and offer her the flat of his hand.

“You got any grain?” I ask, voice low.

“I got dried apples,” he says, taking a handful out and offering it to her. She eats carefully, never taking her eyes off him. I havehim shift to stand beside her and back off, circling to the gate. Westin comes up, leaning on the fence.

“He’s a good horseman,” I say. “I know I’ve said it before, but if you want to send him up to Ryder Ranch, I’ll hire him on.”

Westin shakes his head. “Weren’t we supposed to be competitors?”

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