“That’s a relief. Because I’d hate to let you down when he ditches me and tries to herd the crowd again.”
“Not much chance a’ that,” Chester piped up as he came into the kitchen. He went straight to the luncheon meats on the counter. “The animal likes you too much. And y’re too good a rider to let ’im get away with it, anyway.”
A.J. shot the man a grateful smile and Devlin felt like he’d been pricked by a needle. There was something about seeing her look at Chester with such affection that irked him.
He said, “We’re going to use the next two weeks to get you as buffed up as we can.”
A.J. groaned and Devlin got lost looking at her. Sitting with her back to the sun, there was a halo around her that made her hair glow with the deep red of coal embers. Its warmth gave her flawless skin the luminescence of pearls and, when she flashed her eyes back to him, Devlin caught his breath.
“Is there anything we can do to fast-track the training? Assuming you don’t have a time machine hidden somewhere around here?”
There was a long pause as she waited for Devlin to answer, and Chester smiled. While putting together his sandwich, he’d been looking at them and chuckling to himself. He’d been with Devlin McCloud a lot of years and there wasn’t much about the man he didn’t know. Working in intense situations brought out the good and bad in people and Chester had seen his friend in a lot of different moods. Nothing compared to the effect the woman had on him. The guy looked like someone had come up the back side of his head with a broad board.
Ever since the accident, Chester had watched as Devlin retreated into himself and closed off from everything. Now, though, that angel with the dark red hair had come down and there was light in his friend’s eyes again. Of course, Devlin was too obstinate to realize his salvation had arrived and he’d fight the redemption tooth and nail all the way. But that was his nature. After all, you can’t be surprised when a hardwood tree sprouts up from a chestnut.
Chester pitched a pickle onto his plate and poured himself an iced tea before taking the seat next to A.J. She was still waiting for a response and he figured he’d better answer, because the man on the other side of the table was too addled to do it. Although it wasn’t the first time he’d rescued his friend in some way, having a woman put Devlin McCloud out of his wits was a new one.
“Ya can’t rush the trainin’,” Chester said to her. “But ya don’t need to.”
A.J. looked at him, doubts hovering in her eyes.
“Ya can do this. Ya just need to work with ’im. That stallion’ll come around,” he affirmed before wrapping his jaws around the sandwich and chewing.
“But all we did today was—”
“Y’ve got to let go a’ the disbelief in your head.”
“I can’t.”
“Then y’re focusing on the wrong place. The strength’s in your heart, not your head.”
“Right now, all I can see is failure.” A.J. pushed her plate away.
“Them thoughts are only as strong as ya let them be.”
Devlin came out of the spell and saw A.J. was looking at Chester as if the man were the source of all knowledge.
“You done, Swami,” he said dryly, “or do you want to hop up on the table and do a few yoga postures?”
“Just sayin’ what I think. I have faith in her.”
Devlin let out a snort as A.J. smiled at his friend. Feeling like someone left out of the loop, he got to his feet. “I hate to miss more of the glowing admiration between you two but I’m going to get some work done.”
Chester rolled his eyes with a good-natured grin. “I guess this table’s not big enough for both of us, Pilgrim.”
He got a grunt in return.
Devlin knew he was behaving like a five-year-old but he couldn’t pretend any differently. Putting his dishes in the sink, he left the house, only to realize he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do with himself. His study was always ripe for attention but there was no way he was going to march past the two of them again. Not after he’d left in such a huff.
Hoping to trip over some kind of purpose, he headed down to the barn, where he found Sabbath napping. One black hoof was resting on its tip and the horse’s ears were lolling lazily. They pricked up as Devlin leaned on the front of the stall.
The stallion, for once not taking a combative stance, ambled over. His eyes flicked over the discontented man at his door and he seemed to offer his condolences.
“I look at that woman and all my neurons start firing at once,” Devlin said. “My head shuts down and that’s not the worst of it.”
But he wasn’t about to describe the effect she had on his body. Even if the stallion was looking particularly supportive. The memory of A.J. in his arms was potent enough without adding to it the power of words.
“What the hell am I going to do?”
If the stallion had an answer, he wasn’t sharing, and Devlin pulled away from the stall with a frustrated groan.
“To top it off, she’s got me turning to a horse for advice.”
6
THE TWO weeks before her first competition on Sabbath passed in a blur of early mornings, hard labor and relentless training. As A.J. brushed her teeth the night before the event, she felt ambivalent. They’d made some progress with the stallion but it didn’t seem like enough. Although she and Sabbath had graduated from the crushing repetition of doing single fences to tackling courses, the battle of wills continued in the ring.
She sighed and took out her hairbrush.
At least everything wasn’t acrimonious between them. Miraculously, the disobedient jumper had turned out to be a real charmer when he wasn’t going over fences. Every time A.J. came into the stable, his head popped out of the stall and he nickered a greeting. He was always ready for a rub behind the ears from her and he repaid the effort with a muzzle nudged under her arm or a snuffle across her shoulders.
Gradually, the stallion had learned to tolerate Chester and Devlin but he was A.J.’s horse. Or, more accurately, he’d decided she was his person. This meant, when it came to his many idiosyncrasies, A.J. had to be the one on deck or things went bad fast. The stallion was especially finicky about his feet and only A.J. was allowed to pick out his hooves. Chester had tried once and Sabbath revolted so violently, he yanked one of the crossties out of the wall. And when it came to getting shod, if A.J. wasn’t standing by his head, the blacksmith refused to get within two yards of the stallion with a horseshoe. No one blamed the man. Left to his own devices, Sabbath had tried to make lunch out of the man’s overalls, starting with the back pockets.