The Grump Whisperer (Morningsong Farm #1)

Five

B ronwen had put on a brave front, but her knees were a little weak inside her thick coveralls as she stood by the trailer, now parked so that the back opened directly into the field away from the barn.

Her hair had come loose from its ponytail in the wind, and she dug futilely around in her pockets for another hair tie.

“You need a rubber band?” the groom who had brought the horse asked her, in the voice of someone asking for last-dinner requests before execution.

“Yeah. Thanks.” She took the band he pulled out of the front of the trailer and tied her hair back.

“I’m John, by the way.” He shook her hand solemnly.

“I’m Bronwen,” she replied automatically.

“Good luck in there.”

“Um...thanks again.”

She almost thought he might salute her, but instead he took several steps backward and waited in the gap between the trailer and the fence. For easy escape route purposes, she assumed.

The Man of the House walked around the trailer toward her and handed her a lead rope.

“He wouldn’t let me put this on his halter,” he said in his serious, velvet-thick voice. She let her eyes wander across the field in front of her, not wanting to be distracted by looking directly at his admittedly extremely distracting face. “Snapped at me and kicked out instead.”

“Oh. Great,” she said faintly.

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’m guessing that Hades was abused by a man, given what John said. And since horses tend to remember things like that, and act accordingly, that’s why the smaller woman at Clover Farm has been able to handle him.”

“Usually,” John called from his spot by the fence. “He’s still a handful, even with Maggie.”

“Great,” Bronwen said again.

The tall man in front of her handed her something else—sugar cubes, she realized.

“John had these in the trailer,” he said. “A little bribery can’t hurt.”

“Okay.” Apparently she had been reduced to one-word responses.

He stepped closer, and she tilted her head back to look at him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said quietly. “My sister sent this horse to me because—Well, she has her reasons.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. Or grimace. “He’s my problem. But he can’t stay on the trailer, and I don’t want to send him back.”

She understood why. Clover Farm wasn’t going to hold on to a horse who couldn’t be handled safely—no matter his pedigree. They were a huge, busy operation, not to mention that temperament was essential in marketing breeding stallions. Hades would be sold to someone who’d be willing to take him on, and there was no guarantee that someone would be kind.

“John said he could get him out with the whip, but...”

“But we don’t want his first experience here to be a negative one.”

He nodded.

“It’s fine,” Bronwen said, in what she hoped was a reassuring voice. “I do have responsibility for any horse on this farm, and I don’t want him to end up somewhere he’ll be mistreated, either.”

He looked at her for a long moment, those pale blue eyes mesmerizing. Then he nodded again.

“Okay. Good. Just go slow and gentle. Talk to him. Let him get a good look at you so he knows it isn’t me again. Then see if you can back him out slowly. If he pulls or tries to get away, let him go, and if...if he lashes out, get out of there.”

“All right.”

She could admit that even as she was a little nervous, she was also curious. Like the man in front of her, she couldn’t help but want to know the potential of any given horse. If this one was a Clover Farm breeding stallion, he was probably nicer than any of the horses she’d ever worked with—much as she loved them all. If she could handle him safely, then there was hope he could be rehabilitated. And more importantly, go on to live a safe, happy life.

The Man of the House watched as she turned and took a step toward the back of the trailer. Then she whirled around.

“Wait!” she exclaimed a little wildly, especially given that she was the only one going anywhere. “What’s your name?”

She didn’t know why it was suddenly important to know his name after going so long without it. Despite the groom’s gloomy demeanor about the whole thing, she knew how to handle a difficult horse, and how to evade a dangerous one. There were risks around any large animal, and she faced them every day. She’d be fine.

He stared at her for a moment, and she wondered why he’d avoided introducing himself before now. Well, aside from not wanting to have anything to do with her or the farm.

“Ian,” he said shortly.

“Okay. Hi, Ian.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. The name suited him, she thought. Elegant, a little abrupt.

As she watched, Ian took a deep breath, as if his name from her mouth was a surprise. She bit her lip.

And then she jumped a little where she stood as a bang from inside the trailer broke through the silence between them.

“I think he wants to come out,” John said.

“Right.” Bronwen took her own deep breath and tightened her hold on the lead rope. “Let’s do this.”

She turned away from the distraction named Ian, and began murmuring soft nonsense as she made her way up the ramp into the empty side of the trailer. She waited for a moment, a short distance from the stallion’s stomach with only the divider between them, talking to him all the while.

Hades was enormous and, as far as she could tell inside the trailer, a shiny, solid black with no white markings whatsoever. His tail reached down nearly to the floor, thick and luxurious, and he was heavily muscled like a dressage horse. She wondered if he was a Friesian cross, one of those big, black fairy-tale horses. She’d always wanted to ride a Friesian. Of course, she probably never would now. Or any other horse.

As she spoke to him, both of his ears pinned back in a show of extreme displeasure, and Bronwen swallowed tightly, her eyes on his enormous hooves. But as she continued talking, one ear relaxed to the side as if he was listening to her. A good sign.

She moved slowly into the horse’s line of vision, not wanting to startle him, but needing him to see her. To understand that she looked nothing like the man who had likely abused him in the past. He turned his head toward her. Soft, moist nostrils fluttered as he breathed out, sniffing her scent. A tremor skittered across the surface of his shoulder.

“Poor guy,” she murmured. “I know there’s no reason for you to trust me, but you can. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Hades snorted softly, as if in response to her words. Cautiously, she held her palm flat about a foot from his velvety nose. Slowly, so very slowly, he turned his head to snuffle her palm, legs braced and muscles stiff across his back.

He snorted again and stamped a front hoof, and Bronwen barely stopped herself from jumping in surprise. Instead, she inched closer, lead rope in hand, and held it up next to her palm for its own snuffling. Hades’s eyes widened and he stamped twice. Bronwen thought she might hear Ian call out to see if she was in trouble, but she figured that he was silent so as not to further startle the horse.

She was alone in this, but only because Ian was mindful of her safety and his effect on the horse.

She brushed the snap on the lead rope against the metal ring on the bottom of Hades’s halter, once, twice—and then fastened it on. The horse remained almost eerily still, clearly not trusting her but not committed to trying to either flee or attack.

Bronwen realized she’d stopped breathing, and forced herself to take one deep breath, and then another.

She remembered the sugar cubes and slowly pulled one out of her pocket, holding it flat on the palm of her free hand. Hades immediately inhaled it like a vacuum, drawing a laugh from Bronwen. Maybe they’d be okay.

“Okay. Let’s see if we can do this. Together, Hades. Also, please don’t rip me apart with those big teeth of yours,” she added.

She inched backward along the trailer divider until the lead rope in her hand went taut. She didn’t pull the horse back, but let the light pressure of the rope hang there. A suggestion rather than a demand. As she watched, he arched his neck and took one step back, then another.

Suddenly, he kicked out with his hind legs and scooted forward instead of backward, pressing against the chest bar in front of him. Bronwen held her breath and tried to remain calm. There wasn’t anywhere for Hades to go but backward, she reminded herself. And then, miraculously, after one endless moment, Hades took one halting step back, and then another, and then backed right out of the trailer as if it was no big deal. As if they did this every day.

Bronwen followed his lead rather than the other way around, letting him dictate the pace. He backed down the ramp, and she quickly unsnapped the lead rope in case he startled. She stood in front of him and watched as he stared back, neither relaxed nor as tense as he’d been in the trailer. He reached out with his nose again and brushed his whiskers against her coat, probably smelling the sugar in her pocket.

And then he shook himself all over like a dog after a bath, and Bronwen laughed in surprise. He spun on his back legs and took off across the field, bucking and whinnying at the horses in the field next door.

“That’s as easy as I’ve ever seen him,” John commented from beside the trailer, already moving to close up the back ramp and doors.

Bronwen had almost forgotten anyone else was there. “It was a little dicey, but I think he finally decided he wanted out more than he wanted to kick me into oblivion.”

John glanced off into the distance, where Hades was now rolling, all four legs waggling in the air. “You might never catch him again. He’ll just be out in this field forever.”

“A lawn ornament.” Bronwen smiled. “But at least he’s safe.”

“He’ll be more than decoration,” Ian said, striding around the back of the trailer from where he’d hidden himself from Hades’s vision. “If I have anything to say about it.”

Bronwen had the distinct impression that when Ian had something to say about a situation, he usually got his way.

“You never said you knew anything about horses,” she said without thinking.

Mysterious and intriguing. And more so by the day, unfortunately. He’d made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her or the farm. But here he was, standing in the field like a blond god, arms folded in front of him, jaw set with determination. Who was he? Why was he here?

John sent her an odd look. “Ian Kingston?” He laughed. “Yeah, he knows something about horses.” He fastened the latch on the back of the trailer. “Anyway, I’m off back to Clover.” He glanced over at Hades, now peacefully grazing in the corner farthest away from where they stood. “Good luck, I guess. And thanks for taking him—I wasn’t looking forward to bringing him back.”

“He’ll be fine here,” Ian said firmly.

And then John was in the truck, starting the engine and pulling the trailer back up the hill toward the driveway.

Bronwen shoved her frozen hands in her coat pockets and shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Half looking at Hades and half trying not to look at Ian, who was watching the trailer’s progress as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

Finally, she broke the uncomfortable silence. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said. “We’re all pretty nosy around here, but you don’t owe us anything.”

It was clear that not only did he want nothing to do with her, the boarders or the farm, but he’d also had no intention of revealing who he was or anything about his history with horses. She was, of course, burning with curiosity. But she also didn’t want him to feel pressured into talking about himself. His personal business was his alone.

She understood that, more than he could know. She didn’t talk about her past, either, and she was eternally grateful that the boarders’ prying was of the most gentle and least obtrusive type.

“Anything except payment of all of the farm’s bills,” he said wryly, turning his gaze onto her.

Bronwen’s cheeks flushed with heat. “Well, somebody has to pay for all of this. It’s my job to make sure everything keeps running, no matter what.”

“Because otherwise the horses would suffer. And the boarders,” he said consideringly.

She nodded. “It’s my responsibility.”

“Hmm.” He turned and watched as the stallion raised his head to look around at his new surroundings. “He seems to tolerate you.”

A short laugh escaped her. “That’s me. Tolerable.”

Blue eyes met hers, and she swore the ghost of a smile played around his lips. Lips she shouldn’t be staring at. “I suppose so.”

She squinted at Hades, more to stop looking at the man in front of her than anything else. Restlessness consumed her in his presence, like he was a puzzle she was itching to start solving, but had no business even trying to figure out.

“I was a professional rider,” he said abruptly. “Show jumping.”

“Ah.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“So, yes. I know something about horses.”

“And you’re going to help this one.” It seemed safer to turn the conversation back to Hades than try to prod Ian for more information about himself.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, which probably meant she’d made the right decision. “If I can. He doesn’t seem to think I’m tolerable like you, though.”

“Whatever happened to him before, it was probably a man. And a tall one.”

“He’s a Friesian–Dutch Warmblood cross, according to the papers John shoved at me,” Ian said. “Top lines on both sides. Probably too heavy for a show jumper or eventer, but could make a good dressage horse. And definitely a great foundation for any breeding program.”

“We’re hardly a breeding farm here,” Bronwen said absently. Then frowned. “But you’ll probably take him with you. When your sister gets here.”

Something crossed Ian’s expression, but it was like trying to read an unopened book. Mysterious yet again.

“He’ll be fine in the field for now,” he said shortly. “He’s still got his winter coat, and we can bed down the shed with shavings. He’ll have to be kept apart from the boarders, obviously.”

Unless they wanted a crop of foals out of the mares next year. Breeding stallions were well outside of her area of expertise, but she knew what happened when mares and stallions were left to their own devices.

“Yep.” She turned her mind back to what was her expertise. “Let me know what you want him fed, and I’ll add it to the feed schedule. I’m happy to bring it down here for him until—if—we can get him into the barn. There’s a big box stall at the far end, separated from the others by the tack and feed rooms. We used to use it to store shavings until we moved that to the other side of the barn.”

“I can pay board for him,” Ian said.

Bronwen smiled. “It’s your—your sister’s—farm. You should work that out with her.”

“He’s going to be more work for you. Another horse, a stallion who has to be kept separately.”

Bronwen shrugged. “What’s one more out of all the ones we have now? Besides, I don’t think you’d be able to get him out of our hair even if you wanted to. I’m not going to try loading him into another trailer, that’s for sure.”

Ian gazed down at her in that way that made her feel like he could see inside her head, directly to her thoughts. She really hoped he couldn’t. Not when his muscles were bunched against the chill in his long-sleeved T-shirt, or when his cheeks were flushed with cold. Her thoughts weren’t something she wanted him to access, right at this moment.

He was close—maybe three feet away—and she imagined that she could feel the heat off his body, even though that was impossible. Her breath caught in her chest for no reason whatsoever, and once again she was stuck in the web of her attraction to him. He pulled her like a magnet, and it was a struggle to resist. To keep her feet solidly on the frozen ground and her expression neutral. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was resisting, only that if he relaxed that armor around him for a moment, if he held out his hand, she’d willingly offer whatever he was seeking.

She’d never felt that sort of call toward another person, not like this. And not to someone who would so obviously reject what she offered.

But he turned and strode toward the open gate, turning only to say, “I’ll write in the feed for morning and evening. If you don’t mind leaving it here at the gate, I’ll feed him.” He glanced over toward the happily grazing horse. “Maybe if he associates me with his dinner, he’ll be less likely to try to stick a hoof in my side.”

And then he was gone, back toward the house. A silhouette shrinking as his long stride took him away, while she stood shivering in the field.