Page 83 of Beat around the Bush
She looked behind her like she could see it. “But Cal’s using it.”
“He’ll be done by the time we’re tacked up. Come on.” I grabbed her hand, leading her to a small palomino mare’s stall. “This is Butterscotch.”
Oakley reached up with a gloved hand to pat her muzzle. “Hi, Butterscotch.”
The cold had the apples of Oakley’s cheeks a light shade of pink, a pop of color with her red hair against her light outfit. “Cal uses her for lessons for young kids. She’ll take care of you.”
Oakley had this look on her face as she pet the horse that made me melt right where I was standing, despite the freezing temperatures. She was all affection and admiration for this thousand-pound animal enjoying the scratches she was giving. Being around Butterscotch made her worries instantly ease away, like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.
This was exactly what she needed after the week she’d had.
“Ready to get her saddled up?” I asked, hating to interrupt the moment she was having. Cal needed the arena for hislessons, but he was giving me an hour in between them to do this with her, and I didn’t want to waste a second of it.
“Yeah.” She kept her gaze on the horse for a moment before lowering her hand and stepping back.
Grabbing the rope halter off the stall, I unlatched the gate and slid it open. “Let’s get her halter on.”
I stepped into Butterscotch’s stall and slid the noseband over her muzzle, then situated the poll strap behind her ears. “People can get this backwards, but I always tell myself to make a D towards the butt, then pull it through the D.” She watched as I pulled on the end, tightening the knot.
I handed her the lead rope, then stepped out of the stall, giving them space. She walked out behind me, the mare following her. “We’ll just take her over to the cross ties and do the rest.”
Oakley and Butterscotch followed me over, then I helped secure her in the ties before showing Oakley how to put on her tack. Once the horse was saddled, I quickly got Winston ready, then we headed for the covered arena where Callan was exiting with his student.
“Good luck, Oakley,” Cal said to her as he passed us. “Lennon’s not the best teacher.”
I hit him on the shoulder. “Better than you.”
“Callan’s the best horse teacher ever,” the little boy perched on the lesson horse defended.
I held my gloved hands in the air in surrender, the rein dangling from my thumb. “Sorry, Captain. You’re right. Cal here’s the best.”
The boy looked triumphant, like he knew Callan was a one-of-a-kind teacher. It was true - he was. He had a special touch with kids - always had.
Callan and his student headed toward the barn to untack while Oakley and I entered the arena. We headed towards the middle of the open space and came to a stop, my boots digging into the sand.
Looping the reins over Winston’s neck, I left him to stand there while I approached Oakley, who was visually measuring how she was going to get her leg in the stirrup. “I’ll help you,” I offered.
“I’m notthatshort,” she pouted.
I looked down at her with a frown. “You’re pretty short, Oak.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re just abnormally tall, and so is this horse.”
“She’s fourteen hands,” I pointed out.
Oakley’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know what that means.”
“She’s short,” I stated.
Oakley glared up at me. “Do you have something against short people?”
I shook my head, blowing air out of my nose. “I think Ihavesomething for short people. A short redhead, in particular.”
“Well, this short redhead doesn’t appreciate you pointing out her flaws.”
“Flaws?” There wasn’t a single flaw on Oakley, not in my eyes.
She dropped her hands to her sides. “I’ve been made fun of a lot for my size.”
