Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(5)

Curiously, there’s also a white metal-type building like those seen on a construction site. It’s set up on cinder blocks with a set of wooden steps that lead up to the door.

A woman and teenage boy are in the paddock to the left of the barn. She’s holding on to the halter of a brown-and-white horse. The boy faces the horse with a dubious expression on his face. An older man watches from the exterior of the arena, his arms resting on top of the wooden fence.

I hand the Uber driver a hundred-dollar bill before exiting the vehicle, giving a short wave as he effusively thanks me. Unsure of where to go, I head toward the only people I see.

I have to assume that’s Nora Wayne in the paddock, but I could be entirely wrong. She’s tall and curvy, seemingly poured into the dusty, faded jeans she’s wearing with scuffed cowboy boots. It’s nice out with the temperature hitting the mid-seventies, which is normal for February in Arizona. She has a navy V-neck tee on with a plaid flannel wrapped around her waist. Her head is covered with a cream-colored cowboy hat that doesn’t let me see much of her face other than from the bottom of her nose down. A dark braid hangs down her back.

The horse jerks slightly against the woman, taking half a step to the side. She brings him quickly under control, but the boy jumps backward, his eyes wide with fear.

I lean up against the fence, directly on the opposite side from where the man watches, and I wait until they’re done with whatever it is they’re doing.





CHAPTER 3




Nora


The horse shies left again, but I hold on to her halter. With a soft word, she settles.

“He doesn’t like me,” Terrance grumbles, taking a step back.

“She,” I correct.

“She doesn’t like me,” the sixteen-year-old clarifies. He retreats more, his face a mask of dubiousness.

“Well, we don’t know that’s true, do we?” I ask softly. “It’s not fair to judge what someone or something is thinking based on a tiny action. An expression. A sound.”

Terrance stares. It’s his first session with me, and he has no more trust in me than he does Starlight, my beautiful, sweet-souled horse. I give her a tiny scratch under her chin with my free hand.

“What if I told you that a horsefly just bit her on the ass?” I ask with an encouraging smile. “And that’s what made her move.”

My gaze slides over to the rails of the small paddock we’re in. Raul has one leg propped up on the lower rail while he rests his forearm on the top one. His old straw cowboy hat shades his weathered and wizened face as he watches me work.

“The truth is,” I continue, bringing my eyes to Terrance. I wait a moment until he gives me his attention. “Starlight doesn’t know you any better than you know her. But we need to correct that. So come a little closer.”

Terrance is a city kid, raised poor and in an unstable home environment. He came in this morning, acting tough with a sullen attitude. He had been caught spray-painting graffiti on his high school gym—his second criminal offense—and rather than juvie, he got sent to me.

Which is awesome.

I prefer to take a crack at kids who might have potential, and Judge Beasely sends me the ones she thinks could benefit from my form of equine therapy rather than jail. Kids who go to juvenile detention end up getting lost in the system more often than not, and their rate of returning to crime is extremely high.

“If you’re nervous,” I say gently, “she’ll sense it. She’ll be a bit nervous. So how about we show her some confidence? Lift your head up. Square your shoulders. Project outward that you’re her friend with a simple smile and you just want to get to know her a bit. She’ll sense it and react accordingly.”

What Terrance doesn’t know is that’s a lot of horse shit—no pun intended. Starlight is a sweet, gentle horse that loves everyone. But I like to impart some life wisdom to Terrance when I can, and confidence is important.

Smiling at people… just as important.

Terrance does as I ask, moving toward us. He swallows hard, obviously intimidated by the size of the animal standing next to me. But he also has a healthy dose of sixteen-year-old boy ego in him, and he lifts his chin and presses his shoulders back.

“You can stroke her right here… on her muzzle,” I say, demonstrating by doing so.

The boy hesitates, his Adidas sneakers kicking up a bit of dust as he falters.

“It’s okay,” I urge him. “I promise… she’ll be your friend.”

Terrance looks at me with complete mistrust, and my heart hurts because of that. For whatever he’s gone through, it means he doesn’t know how to give the benefit of the doubt to someone.

It means he doubts his own self-worth and I’m hoping by the time he’s done with this program, that will be a non-issue. It’s surprising what giving a kid a little confidence can do for them.

How empowering it can be.

How it can help them say no to trouble.

“You have no reason to trust me, Terrance. I promise that you won’t get hurt here, but you don’t know me. I get why you can’t trust just yet. So the only way to accomplish this first task—to merely touch this animal—is for you to find something deep in yourself that will let you do it. I believe you have it in you.”

He stares a moment, his expression conflicted. But again, it helps he has a bit of teen swagger within because he stretches his hand out ever so slowly to bridge the distance. While his feet don’t move any closer, he can still reach Starlight’s velvety muzzle and I can’t help but smile when his fingertips graze ever so softly down.