Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(98)

She led the horse away, determined not to look back. But she felt his eyes on her. And wasn’t that interesting enough to let just a little hope eke through?

He didn’t stint on the work he assigned. As a result, she stayed busy—body and mind—until midafternoon when he shifted her balance again by bringing her a bottle of the Coke she preferred.

“Thanks.”

“It seemed you should wet the throat you must’ve worked dry calling out corrections to the student you had in the ring.”

“She’s really young.” Grateful, Iona took a long sip. “And she likes the idea of riding. She just doesn’t put much into learning how. I think she mostly likes the outfits she gets to wear, and how she looks on a horse.”

“Her parents are divorcing it seems.”

“Oh, that’s rough. She’s only eight.”

“It’s been coming on awhile, from what I hear. And it seems their way of compensating is to indulge her and her brother. Her with the fancy boots and riding pants and such and him with video games and sports jerseys.”

“It won’t work.”

“Likely not, no. I wonder if you have a minute to take a look at our Spud. He’s been off his feed today. I thought before I call the vet you could take a pass at him.”

“I’ll go right now. I haven’t worked with him today,” she said as she hurried out of the ring. “Barely saw him this morning.”

She worked her way down the stalls, Boyle beside her, and stopped at Spud’s.

The horse just gave her a sorrowful look as he moved restlessly in the stall.

“Don’t feel good today, do you?” She murmured it as she opened the stall door. “Let’s have a look.”

In answer he kicked at his belly.

“That’s where it hurts, huh?” Gently, gently, she ran her hands over him, down and around his belly.

And closing her eyes, calming her mind, she let herself see, let herself feel.

“It’s not colic, so that’s lucky. And not an ulcer. But it’s uncomfortable, isn’t it, baby? And you can’t do what you like best. Eat.”

“I couldn’t even tempt him with a potato, his favorite.”

“He’s not sweating,” she added. “Has he been rolling around on the floor?”

“No. Just barely touched his feed.”

“Indigestion.” Which, it occurred to her, Boyle would’ve thought of himself. But now there they were, the two of them in the stall together, close, arms brushing now and then as they stroked the horse.

“I think I can take care of it, if you trust me to.”

“I would, and more, he would. He’s not fond of the vet for all that. And if indigestion it is, we can always dose him. But he’s not in favor of that overly either.”

“Let’s see if we can avoid it. Would you hold his head?”

As Boyle moved to do so, she crouched down, hands sliding, gliding over Spud’s belly. “It aches,” she said quietly. “So hard to understand the hurt. You’ve been eating too fast, that’s all. Slow down and enjoy it more. Quiet now, quiet.”

Her stomach burned a moment as she drew the pain away, but she felt Spud’s relax under her touch. Heard his snort of relief.

“Better now, that’s better. And I bet you’re already starting to think about eating again.”

She rose, saw Boyle staring at her.

“You go to gleaming,” he told her. “It’s a dazzle.”

“It’s odd because it feels so calm now to do it. And with little hits like that I’m not immediately thinking about food myself. It wouldn’t hurt to put some of that homeopathic potion in his feed, just to cover the tracks.”

“Sure I’ll do that, and thanks for this. He’s a favorite around here as you know.” He continued to stand at Spud’s head, blocking the stable door. “So, are you faring well, Iona?”

“Yeah. Fine. You?”

“Oh, well and fine. Busier as you know with spring.”

“And summer follows.”

“And summer follows. We’re to meet again in another two days, to talk of that. I wondered if there was anything I could do for you in the meantime? If you wanted some time off so you could . . . do what you do at home, have more time to put into that.”

“Working here keeps me sane, I think. And balanced. The routine of it, and knowing I want that routine when this is over.”

“If ever you did need the time, you’ve only to tell me.”

“I will.”

“I could buy you a pint for the vet service after work—in a friendly way,” he added. “After the workday if you’ve a mind for it.”

He’d do the same for anyone, she reminded herself. But . . .

“I would, but Branna’s expecting me. She’s a brute just like Meara. We haven’t much time left before the solstice.”

“No, there’s not much left. It’s weighing on you.”

“Not being sure what I’ll need to do, what I’m meant to do weighs. Both Branna and Connor have blocked any thought of me going to the cabin ruins before the solstice. They seem to think I’ll pull more from it the very first time, and that may help.”