Never Let You Go by Emma Carlson Berne Page A

unbelievably delicate in comparison with when she’d groomed Rosie. Instead, the foal seemed to be strung together entirely out of tendons, fur, and long bones.
    The baby liked the brushing, Megan figured, since he was leaning on Megan’s hand, but he was curious about the blackrubber comb and kept reaching around and trying to bite it.
    “No, no,” she told him quietly, and gently pushed the foal’s head so that he faced the front. Meanwhile, the foal kept stepping this way and that, as if he were ticklish. The squirming reminded Megan of trying to get her two-year-old cousin dressed when she babysat him.
    The clouds overhead were breaking up in earnest now, scuttling away in big gray clumps. A haze hung over the grass, and the air was humid and mellow. The donkey was asleep standing up in a shady corner, but the horses switched their tails constantly and stamped their feet as they grazed.
    Megan switched to the soft brush. The baby liked that even better than the currycomb. Megan managed to brush his whole body, even down his long, slender legs, talking to him the whole time. He seemed to like that—his ears flicked back and forth.
    As she worked, Megan realized she hadn’t thought of Anna once since she stepped into the pasture. Her mind had been entirely occupied with the little horse, but in a calming way, like meditating. It was a relief—she didn’t realize how tense she’d been, watching Anna’s movements, analyzing her moods, trying to figure out the Jordan situation.
    “There you go, sweetie,” Megan cooed. She tried to keep her voice low and steady. She set the brush down on the fence rail and ran her hands along the baby’s spine. “Does that feel nice, sweetie?”
    The foal turned his head and looked right at Megan. He had beautiful long eyelashes. “Maybe that should be your name,” Megan told him. “Sweetie. Do you like that?”
    She half waited for the foal to reply, but instead, Megan heard a horn beep behind her. Anna and Jordan bounced up the road in the old truck, with Jordan at the wheel. Anna hung half out the window, waving her arms at Megan.
    “We’re going to feed the sheep. Come throw hay with us!” Anna’s cheeks were bright red, and she was wearing a loose linen shirt with half the buttons undone.
    “Hang on,” Megan called back. She gathered the brush and the comb and gave the foal one last scratch before slipping under the fence. She trotted over to the truck, which was chugging noisily and belching out smoke from its tailpipe. Several bales of hay were piled in the back, along with a sack of grain.
    Jordan greeted her with a friendly smile. “We could use the extra hands.” His teeth looked very white in his tanned face, and he was wearing a much-washed blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, showing off his corded brown forearms. Megan caught a whiff of the same cedary soap he was wearing Monday night.
    Anna leaned over, almost lying across his lap. “Come on, Meg! Jump in the back.” She pushed herself upright, putting her hands on Jordan’s thighs and letting her hair graze his face. He swallowed.
    Megan looked from one to the other. “Are you sure you guys want company?”
    “Definitely!” Jordan said, his voice a little overenthusiastic.
    “Okay.”
    Megan hoisted herself into the bed of the truck and perched ona prickly hay bale as Jordan threw the truck into gear and bounced them down the rutted road. The pigs were rooting around in their feed trough, grunting low in their chests and half climbing on each other to reach the choicest bits as they drove past. Megan pulled the collar of her shirt up over her nose. None of the other smells on the farm bothered her so far, not even the donkey, but the pig manure was in its own special category. She was happy to have avoided feeding them so far.
    The truck bumped off the gravel and onto the grassy track that circled the sheep pasture. Jordan followed the fence around to the back, passing the abandoned