River's End (River's End Series, #1)(22)

Standing next to a stall, he reached in to pet a black horse whose head had streaks of gray running through it. “This here is Georgie. She’s as sweet as they come.”

He handed her a carrot and she gently took it from his hands. They were big, tan hands with calluses on his fingertips.

“Open your hand flat out and let the horse take it from you. She won’t bite you, so don’t jerk your hand away.”

She looked up at him before eyeing the long nose of the horse. And the teeth that were as big as quarters up close. She swallowed, but opened her hand, feeling too embarrassed not to do as Jack said.

She closed her eyes in trepidation until she felt the carrot lifting out of her hand. She opened one eye, then the other as she watched the horse munching through the carrot, almost transfixed by the grinding of the horse’s jaws. She glanced up at Jack.

“Can I pet her?”

“Sure. Put your hand out.”

The horse nudged her hand, and Erin assumed she was looking for more carrots. She gently touched the top of the horse’s nose. The skin felt soft and warm. She smiled at the horse, and was surprised when the horse let her touch her. The horse nudged her and urged her to rub harder.

“Hi Georgie,” she said finally. The horse seemed to look at her, and even right into her. She felt like she had to talk to it. “You want more carrots, huh? Maybe we can talk Mr. Rydell into one more for you.”

Jack was looking at her. She could feel him looking down at her as she stared, utterly transfixed, at the horse. He probably thought she was crazy talking to the horse like that. But it was impossible not to. Like looking at a baby and talking baby talk; it simply had to be done. He didn’t comment, but turned and came back with another carrot, which he handed to her. She smiled up at him in appreciation and fed it to Georgie as Jack taught her. She reached her other hand out when Georgie took it to eat.

“How many horses do you have here?”

Jack looked from the horse into her eyes. “It depends on how many we are training or boarding at any given time. Right now, we have close to seventy. But we board more than half of those and I’m training twenty or so, and so is Ian. We are pretty well known for being selective. We get people from all along the west coast asking us to train their horses for them.”

Her head spun just trying to figure out the logistics of such an operation. Like how much each horse must eat a day. She kept petting Georgie and the horse turned her head when Erin reached up and scratched her ears. Georgie seemed to really like it. She forgot her hesitation and scratched with more vigor. The horse almost fell over, pushing her head into Erin’s hand, which made her smile.

Jack stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why do you keep some in the stalls and others outside, running relatively free on the pastures?”

“It depends what they are with us for. Some are merely boarded here. So they are free to roam the pastures, and receive less daily care from us. Others are here specifically for training. While being trained, we have to keep them in stalls to limit contact with the other horses. That way, when I or Ian start working with them, they are eager for the attention and thus more eager to please us.”

“I had no idea they were so sensitive. I always thought one horse could be substituted for another.”

“No. Not unless you don’t give shit who they are. People like that shouldn’t own them. Or breed them. Or train them.”

“Do you train some of them every day?”

He shook his head and leaned on top of the stall. “No. It depends on lots of factors when and how much I train them. Often, I give them several days break in between training sessions. It’s why I can train so many horses at one time… I’m not doing each and every one, every day.”

“Are they all different breeds?” she asked, grinning at the way Georgie turned her head into her hand.

“All horses are different, regardless of their breeds. Work with them enough and you’ll see how different each one can be. But no, they are not all the same breeds. The ones we own are a breed of mustang known as Nokotas. They are pretty rare with only a thousand or so left that are pure-blooded like ours. We are one of maybe only a hundred owners that still breed them. The rest of the horses are here for training or boarding. We do some breeding and redistributing of Nokotas, however.”

“Redistributing? You make it sound like they are just a product.”

“It’s a business.”

She glanced at him and shook her head. Despite his cold, frowning face, she didn’t for a second buy that comment. “It’s a business for Joey, Shane, and maybe Ian. But not for you. I’ve seen you working with them. They aren’t just a business to you. You respect them all. You’d keep them all if you could, I bet.”

His eyebrows wrinkled at her as he frowned. “When have you seen me with the horses?”

“Chance’s trailer overlooks the arena.”

“And you watch me?”

“I watch the horses. I watch you working with the horses. I’m not sure what you do, but Joey’s right when he called you the horse whisperer.”

“Joey called me that?”

“Yes. The first day I was here. He thinks you’re amazing with the horses, you know. I think he resents it too, though. I don’t know; whatever you two have going on is pretty complicated.”