first light of dawn was coming across the meadow in all its peach-hued glory but she didn’t pause to savor the majesty of the morning. She was in a hurry to see the stallion and was relieved to hear him stomp a hoof and whinny a greeting as she slid aside the big wide door.
Now, that’s what a stable should sound like, she thought, as she opened the top half of Sabbath’s stall door. He reached out to her, nudging her shoulder and snuffling over her jacket.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. She was pleased by how happy he was to see her. “You know, I’m beginning to think you might be a real mushball.”
Sabbath flicked his ears back and forth and then thrust his muzzle under her arm, lifting her off the ground.
Laughing, she entered the stall, checked his water and then went to the trailer for some oats and hay. When she returned, his head was out in the aisle and he was surveying his new surroundings. Ducking under his neck, she hung a bucket of feed on a brass hook next to the water tub and waited while he lipped the food and began to eat. Figuring he’d like some peace and quiet as he had breakfast, she left the stall.
As soon as she shut the door, Sabbath’s head was back out into the aisle and he started nickering. Concerned, she went back over to him, only to watch as he pulled his head inside and tucked into the sweet feed again. With an indulgent smile, she leaned up against the door and talked to him as he ate, using the time to try to figure out a plan for them. By the time he was licking the bottom of the bucket, their future was no clearer but she’d enjoyed the quiet time with him. As she shut his top door, she decided he could be pretty endearing when he wanted to be.
When A.J. went outside, she stood for a moment looking at the farmhouse. In the tender morning light, it was a needlepoint sampler, all that was good and cozy, and autumn made the place seem even more inviting. In a blaze of color, the rich reds and yellows of fall were beginning to manicurethe tips of tree branches, emphasizing the house’s radiant white exterior.
The image was picture perfect, postcard ready, she thought. Drop it in the mail and remind someone of the fantasy home everyone wished for. Too bad Norman Rockwell’s model of farming America was making her stomach feel like she’d swallowed a box of thumbtacks.
A.J. rubbed her belly, thinking maybe her father’s thing with stress and antacids might be hereditary.
She was feeling trapped between being thrilled to see Devlin McCloud again and knowing that she had to leave. It was a one-two punch. She doubted she would run into him again and that made her curiously distraught. She was also back where she’d started the night before with no place to put the stallion.
Why couldn’t they just stay here?
The facilities were what she wanted. Perfectly kitted out, with no distractions from other horses or riders. And working with someone of Devlin’s stature would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for any rider. The only drawback was the effect he had on her, but even that was exciting. She imagined that working with him would be stimulating on so many levels and, as long as she could stay focused, it would be a wonderful way to see if something could develop between them.
Put like that, it was hard to figure out which was more attractive. The training or the man himself.
So what could she say to change his mind?
Good morning, nice sheets, by the way, are you sure you don’t want to spend the next two months with me and my big black stallion?
She didn’t think that was going to cut it.
All was quiet as A.J. stepped inside and she wondered if she shouldn’t just leave. Probably it was the right thing to do but it wasn’t an option as far as she was concerned. She wanted to see him one more time so she padded into the kitchen, wondering where the coffeemaker was. She found it, next to a Crock-Pot full of freshly ground
Now, that’s what a stable should sound like, she thought, as she opened the top half of Sabbath’s stall door. He reached out to her, nudging her shoulder and snuffling over her jacket.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. She was pleased by how happy he was to see her. “You know, I’m beginning to think you might be a real mushball.”
Sabbath flicked his ears back and forth and then thrust his muzzle under her arm, lifting her off the ground.
Laughing, she entered the stall, checked his water and then went to the trailer for some oats and hay. When she returned, his head was out in the aisle and he was surveying his new surroundings. Ducking under his neck, she hung a bucket of feed on a brass hook next to the water tub and waited while he lipped the food and began to eat. Figuring he’d like some peace and quiet as he had breakfast, she left the stall.
As soon as she shut the door, Sabbath’s head was back out into the aisle and he started nickering. Concerned, she went back over to him, only to watch as he pulled his head inside and tucked into the sweet feed again. With an indulgent smile, she leaned up against the door and talked to him as he ate, using the time to try to figure out a plan for them. By the time he was licking the bottom of the bucket, their future was no clearer but she’d enjoyed the quiet time with him. As she shut his top door, she decided he could be pretty endearing when he wanted to be.
When A.J. went outside, she stood for a moment looking at the farmhouse. In the tender morning light, it was a needlepoint sampler, all that was good and cozy, and autumn made the place seem even more inviting. In a blaze of color, the rich reds and yellows of fall were beginning to manicurethe tips of tree branches, emphasizing the house’s radiant white exterior.
The image was picture perfect, postcard ready, she thought. Drop it in the mail and remind someone of the fantasy home everyone wished for. Too bad Norman Rockwell’s model of farming America was making her stomach feel like she’d swallowed a box of thumbtacks.
A.J. rubbed her belly, thinking maybe her father’s thing with stress and antacids might be hereditary.
She was feeling trapped between being thrilled to see Devlin McCloud again and knowing that she had to leave. It was a one-two punch. She doubted she would run into him again and that made her curiously distraught. She was also back where she’d started the night before with no place to put the stallion.
Why couldn’t they just stay here?
The facilities were what she wanted. Perfectly kitted out, with no distractions from other horses or riders. And working with someone of Devlin’s stature would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for any rider. The only drawback was the effect he had on her, but even that was exciting. She imagined that working with him would be stimulating on so many levels and, as long as she could stay focused, it would be a wonderful way to see if something could develop between them.
Put like that, it was hard to figure out which was more attractive. The training or the man himself.
So what could she say to change his mind?
Good morning, nice sheets, by the way, are you sure you don’t want to spend the next two months with me and my big black stallion?
She didn’t think that was going to cut it.
All was quiet as A.J. stepped inside and she wondered if she shouldn’t just leave. Probably it was the right thing to do but it wasn’t an option as far as she was concerned. She wanted to see him one more time so she padded into the kitchen, wondering where the coffeemaker was. She found it, next to a Crock-Pot full of freshly ground
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