Page 13 of Tommy

I grit my teeth, sensing my own immediate irony of what I’d just said. “To be honest, I was annoyed, but you’re actually alright,” I said, approaching him with a carrot. “You wanna try giving her this. Be careful not to get too close to the teeth. A horse bite hurts like hell.”

He smiled, tucking his chin to his chest as if hiding it. “How much of it do I give her?”

Belle turned to me as I was the one waving the carrot for the kid to take. “You won’t figure that out unless you take it.”

“Oh.” He grabbed it and Belle craned her head to bite it. His hand was shaking as she bite chunks off it. “I don’t think I have the upper arm strength for this.”

He wasn’t in any real danger of her getting too close to his fingers. Belle hadn’t bitten anyone since she’d come to the ranch as a rescue.

“Are you ready for the next step?” I asked him. “Gotta go inside.”

“What?” He flinched, nearly jumping back.

“I’m kidding. Just putting some hay in their with them. You can do that over the fence.” I snapped my fingers at Pip who was stressing Thunder out at the other side of the stables. “Grab that pitchfork, head over to that bale of hay, stick it in, break it up, and then transfer over some. If you can handle it.”

He scoffed. “Of course, I can do it, I’m just worried about growing muscles in places where muscles haven’t been before.”

“Like it or not, staying here for the next couple of weeks is going to create muscle,” I said, watching him approach the pitchfork against the wood wall. He touched it first with a single finger before grabbing it. “And don’t worry about that, it’s not sharp.”

“It reminds me of a trident,” he said, raising it in the air, just shy of punching a hole through the roof. “Oh god. I won’t do that again.”

“Please, don’t ruin this place. I helped build it.”

He looked at me, slack jawed. “You built this?”

“Listen kid, I’ve been here longer than you’ve been out of diapers, I helped build most of this place,” I told him. That might’ve been another reason why I was overprotective of it, and why I didn’t want people in town coming up without a booking.I didn’t want tire marks wearing down the land, or their loud engines spooking the animals.

“I doubt it,” he chuckled. “I’m notthatyoung.”

“But I amthatold.” I winked. I never winked. Thankfully, I don’t think he noticed.

After the horses were given more hay and fresh water, I hand fed them a couple more carrots. They needed to be eaten before they went bed, and it was a nice treat for them, especially when they weren’t getting all their necessary outdoor enrichment. We headed back to the barn to collect the milk pail and eggs.

And for a second time, I invited the kid over. “I have oats and fresh fruit,” I told him. “Probably made too much just for me, if you want to have some breakfast. But if you’ve already eaten, you can head back and get on with your work.”

“I’m going to need a serious word with everyone in town,” he laughed. “But yes, please. I had the hardest time working out the wood fire stove thingy earlier. I’ll accept whatever you’ve got for me.”

I tried to figure out why I asked, maybe out of obligation, or maybe because there was something about him I hadn’t completely figured out yet. Figuring people out came easy to me, usually. Something to the kid stumped me.

“Your house is always so nice and warm,” he said, immediately stripping out of his coat and shoes when we crossed the threshold inside.

“It’s because the fire is linked to certain other heating systems in the house,” I told him, placing the milk down. “That’s what the owners installed, not me. And it is nice, but sometimes, it makes me want to go outside completely naked and make snow angels.” I snapped my fingers at the dogs in the doorway. They stopped andshook themselves off before coming inside. I’d taught them both well.

“Snow angels!” he said. “I’ve never made one of those before.”

“Jeez, kid, next you’ll be saying you’ve never made a snowman or had a snowball fight.” And from the blank expression looking back at me from his face, I’d hit the nail on the head. He hadn’t done either of those things. I closed the front door as the dogs came inside and Rusty laid on his bed.

He shrugged. “We had snow where I’m from, and snow days from school, but it never lasted long, and I’ve always hated the cold,” he said, shuddering. “The idea of having my entire body in snow makes me want to die inside.”

“Ok, so if you hate snow so much, why don’t you own more warm clothes?” I took my hat off and placed it by the door. In the mirror, I caught the mess of my hair in the reflection.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I stayed in my apartment for weeks on end,” he replied. “Not having winter clothes was a bonus excuse to not going out in the cold. Like, and rain, there’s nothing worse than having your nice, warm clothes be drenched by rainfall.”

“I can’t blame you for that, the rain can be cruel out here too,” I told him, leading him through the kitchen-dining area of the house. “One of the services I offer out here is expeditions, and when it’s the middle of spring and the rain is coming down heavy, I have to do a lot of soul searching when it happens.”

“What does an expedition involve?”

“A couple of nights on the land without any amenities, except for a tent, and a couple of utensils to cook with,” I said. “It’s mostly for folk who want to give their hand a go at living like cowboys on the road, traversing the open world in search of work.”

---