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“Why? You thinking you might?” The jealousy grows like a forgotten fire. He hasn’t said anything, but he does a great job making a pass at her every time he sees her.
Carl shrugs and slides his grip up the neck of the guitar. “I tried. She’s not into me.” He plucks out a few notes. “But I think she’s into you.”
I laugh nervously. “She’s not. We’re friends”
“You’re friends because you’ve never made a move.”
“I’m technically her boss. It’s complicated.”
His fingers run rapidly over the strings, tying together a melody. “And yet, a second ago, when you thought I might steal her away, you looked like you were gonna take my head off.”
Inhaling through my nose, I shrug. “Get to your point.”
His thumb strums over the strings, creating music from nothing. “If you want her, you have to let her know.”
“And if she doesn’t want me? Or if it wrecks our friendship?” I don’t mean to say my real fears out loud, but it’s not like I have anyone to talk to. I hate to admit it, but talking like this, it’s helping.
“It’s like Dad always says, weigh the risks. If the payoff is worth it, go for it.”
I find myself chewing on the inside of my cheek, unsure if losing my friendship with Sunny would ever be worth the risk. Unable to decide, I nod to Carl. “Thanks. Really. That’s helpful.”
He shrugs, all the animosity gone from him for once. “Well, thanks for the invite.”
I pull the door shut, hovering for a second to catch his guitar launching into a song. For a minute there, it kinda felt like I had a brother. That wasn’t too bad, and I wouldn’t mind it happening more often. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone.
Chapter 18
Sunny
L
Last night I traded ast night I traded Weston his feeding chores for the next week in exchange for him putting away the horses at the end of the day so that I could get started on the dinner I was craving. I should have known better. He’s not one for follow through. None of the family horses were put away in their stalls last night, which means the corral is a mess. It’s not the end of the world, but it’s hardly up to my standard. With day rides increasing each day, keeping the yard clean and tidy has been increasingly difficult. Thankfully, I don’t have a single reservation, and with the guys off working the cattle, it means I get to put things back in working order again.
It’s not horrible work, but it does take most of the day. Some people outside of the equine world might wonder why I even bother with clean up since it’s a never-ending job, but beyond the sanitation aspect, it’s a great way to track an animal’s health. You get used to how any piles each horse puts out, what it looks like, even what it smells like. It helps to gauge when things are going right, or more importantly, when they’re going wrong. But that only works when the horses are in their own areas, because otherwise there’s no telling whose pile of manure it is. When I find my fourth pile that looks like it belongs to a sick horse, I’m wishing Weston had managed to put them back where they belonged. It would be easier to see which horse felt badly and whether it was serious.
I check the horses once the yard and corral are clean. Horses with loose manure can be on their way to colic, which can be life threatening if not taken care of quickly. I check them off one by one, setting my ear to their stomach to listen for sounds of a healthy gut. Buddy didn’t come out to work today, so Chief is left behind. His gut sounds are nearly absent, but being as old as he is, it’s not that unbelievable. His gaze is a little glassy, but that’s the way he looks most days. Buck always teases that Buddy rides a corpse. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something might be wrong.
Noise in the distance tells me that the wranglers are getting back soon. They spent the day checking on the cows, foaling season is wrapping up and it’s been a lot of hours to get this far. I wish I could be more help, but my expertise ends with the horses. Silas whoops the second he comes around the hill. He’s been on cloud nine getting to work in the field with the rest of them. Farrell even says he’s not too much trouble other than a thousand questions a minute.
Silas arrives first, but he always does his own work. Maybe it’s because it was his job before it was mine, or maybe he wants to help. Either way, I’m grateful. I reach for Houston’s reins, and he swings down, grumbling about something stupid Silas said. I shouldn’t even try, but any one of the horses could be feeling ill. I need to ask.
“How was Ragdoll today? She feeling okay?”
Houston glares. “Why do you always ask so many questions? I swear, the second we hit the yard, it’s an interrogation. You’re not a vet, Sunny, just a groom.”
Rhett swings down behind the cranky wrangler, obviously concerned. “Hey, lay off, Houston. She’s doing her job.”
I loosen the cinch on Ragdoll’s saddle, kicking myself for starting with Houston. He’s by far the crankiest of the wranglers, short tempered and normally grumbling. I pull the saddle, but he steals it from me. “You’re taking forever. I’ll put it away.”
“Leave Ragdoll tied. I want to look her over.”
He groans before he walks away, but at least he’s gone. I leave to help the others untack and ask each one if their horse exhibited any signs of distress. None of them seem to think they’re in trouble, but I definitely catch Rhett’s attention with my behavior.
“What’s going on?” He pulls me aside once the others head for the haybales. “What’s with the vet act?”
I don’t like thinking that he’s noticed that about me. I’m not a vet, but too far down this path and my identity may become common knowledge. After that, I can’t be sure that every other secret won’t come out. If they know what I’ve done, there’s no telling how they’d react. I don’t want to run again. Keeping my identity a secret seems to be the best way to avoid that.
“One of the horses has loose manure. I counted four piles that looked off. It looks like they could colic. I’m just checking them.”
