concept of yielding to her leg, and she could feel the bruised skin inside her breeches already swelling. Most of the horses knew what she
wanted, but it was in the animal’s deeper nature to resist. As far as the equine population was concerned, nothing beat standing around slapping tails, hogging the whatever, and ignoring humans—that is, until mealtime rolled around. Lily had a little bit of a headache since all she’d had for breakfast was Shep’s coffee. She hoped the mild throbbing in her left eye socket wasn’t thinking of becoming a full-blown migraine. She dismounted and stood in the shade of the barn, her legs wobbling slightly from work. “Shep, if I’m going to ride another horse, I need pesto and Krisprolls. Nothing else is going to cut it. I think I’ll ride Georgia into town, pick up some groceries. Feed us both.”
Shep knotted the horse’s reins in his fist. He scratched his nose and thought a while. “I ain’t hungry. But if you have to go, seems like driving your fancy car would be faster.”
“Absolutely not,” Lily said. “I want to wave hi to everyone I pass. Let them know who’s back in Floralee. I’ve been anticipating doing that every single minute since I got here. First, however, I plan to change into my French bikini.”
Shep began taking the tack off the horse she’d ridden. He didn’t speak.
“Ha ha, Shep. I was kidding.”
He didn’t smile. “You ask me, your father was too easy on the both of you. Rose wanders around acting all dreamy, you talk bold just so you can raise a little hell. I reckon it’d take a whole roll of duct tape to shut you up. But so long as you’re hell-bent on taking a break, pick me up a spool of fencing wire at the hardware. Tell them I want the same kind as last time, and to put it on your pop’s account.” He handed her a cloth backpack. “This ought to hold it.” “Will you hang on to Buddy for me?” All morning the blue heeler had lurked under one of the ranch trucks, peering out anxiously. Whenever he ventured forth a couple of inches, one of the ranch dogs came over and snarled, and back under the truck Buddy went.
He had an oil spot on his head so large it looked as if he’d been marked by Jody Jr. as cootie dog deluxe.
Shep looked at the heeler and said, “Lily, that dog of yours puts me in mind of a nancy boy. Have you had his hormones checked?” “Cut him some slack, Shep. Buddy’s a city pooch. He understands concrete, not dirt. Give him a week, he’ll get the hang of things. You
be good, Buddy,” she called out to her dog. “You mind Shep.”
“He’d best stay parked under that truck,” Shep said.
Lily unsaddled the horse she’d been riding and led Georgia, a stunning flea-bitten gray Morgan mare, out of the barn. She brushed Georgia’s back and threw a bridle over her, then checked her feet for stones. Satisfied, she pulled herself up and felt every one of her sore muscles complain, but the cure for that was more riding. She started down the road bareback, passing the landing strip where her mother’s plane would eventually once again be parked. She legged the horse into a brisk trot as soon as they came to the road. Lily began to post, rising gently, sitting a beat until she found a rhythm comfortable to them both. Georgia’s ears flicked back and forth, listening to Lily’s leg. She was such a trustworthy horse that Lily fed her a long, loose rein, and every now and then, shut her eyes and sleepily let the horse lead the way.
Outside the hardware store the decorative hitching-post rail had been recently painted Santa Fe blue. Lily dismounted and untied the knotted reins, securing the mare with a single slipknot. That way, in case of disaster, the horse could pull away without tearing her mouth. Lily brushed the worst of the horsehair from her crotch before she entered the store. There wasn’t much she could do about how sweaty she smelled, but this was a hardware store, for Pete’s sake, not
wanted, but it was in the animal’s deeper nature to resist. As far as the equine population was concerned, nothing beat standing around slapping tails, hogging the whatever, and ignoring humans—that is, until mealtime rolled around. Lily had a little bit of a headache since all she’d had for breakfast was Shep’s coffee. She hoped the mild throbbing in her left eye socket wasn’t thinking of becoming a full-blown migraine. She dismounted and stood in the shade of the barn, her legs wobbling slightly from work. “Shep, if I’m going to ride another horse, I need pesto and Krisprolls. Nothing else is going to cut it. I think I’ll ride Georgia into town, pick up some groceries. Feed us both.”
Shep knotted the horse’s reins in his fist. He scratched his nose and thought a while. “I ain’t hungry. But if you have to go, seems like driving your fancy car would be faster.”
“Absolutely not,” Lily said. “I want to wave hi to everyone I pass. Let them know who’s back in Floralee. I’ve been anticipating doing that every single minute since I got here. First, however, I plan to change into my French bikini.”
Shep began taking the tack off the horse she’d ridden. He didn’t speak.
“Ha ha, Shep. I was kidding.”
He didn’t smile. “You ask me, your father was too easy on the both of you. Rose wanders around acting all dreamy, you talk bold just so you can raise a little hell. I reckon it’d take a whole roll of duct tape to shut you up. But so long as you’re hell-bent on taking a break, pick me up a spool of fencing wire at the hardware. Tell them I want the same kind as last time, and to put it on your pop’s account.” He handed her a cloth backpack. “This ought to hold it.” “Will you hang on to Buddy for me?” All morning the blue heeler had lurked under one of the ranch trucks, peering out anxiously. Whenever he ventured forth a couple of inches, one of the ranch dogs came over and snarled, and back under the truck Buddy went.
He had an oil spot on his head so large it looked as if he’d been marked by Jody Jr. as cootie dog deluxe.
Shep looked at the heeler and said, “Lily, that dog of yours puts me in mind of a nancy boy. Have you had his hormones checked?” “Cut him some slack, Shep. Buddy’s a city pooch. He understands concrete, not dirt. Give him a week, he’ll get the hang of things. You
be good, Buddy,” she called out to her dog. “You mind Shep.”
“He’d best stay parked under that truck,” Shep said.
Lily unsaddled the horse she’d been riding and led Georgia, a stunning flea-bitten gray Morgan mare, out of the barn. She brushed Georgia’s back and threw a bridle over her, then checked her feet for stones. Satisfied, she pulled herself up and felt every one of her sore muscles complain, but the cure for that was more riding. She started down the road bareback, passing the landing strip where her mother’s plane would eventually once again be parked. She legged the horse into a brisk trot as soon as they came to the road. Lily began to post, rising gently, sitting a beat until she found a rhythm comfortable to them both. Georgia’s ears flicked back and forth, listening to Lily’s leg. She was such a trustworthy horse that Lily fed her a long, loose rein, and every now and then, shut her eyes and sleepily let the horse lead the way.
Outside the hardware store the decorative hitching-post rail had been recently painted Santa Fe blue. Lily dismounted and untied the knotted reins, securing the mare with a single slipknot. That way, in case of disaster, the horse could pull away without tearing her mouth. Lily brushed the worst of the horsehair from her crotch before she entered the store. There wasn’t much she could do about how sweaty she smelled, but this was a hardware store, for Pete’s sake, not
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