OverTime 03: Slipping (First 70 Chapters)

Chapter 27: Lady Sings the Blues (Lillabit)

A second horse?

I don't mean to be the kind of woman who can be distracted by sparkly things. A lot had just happened. I was still reeling from all the shouting: did Jacob worry about me that much, or did he just hate disobedience with a true passion? Was I setting important boundaries, or ruining my old-timey marriage with every comeback? I'd hurt Boy! Apparently he didn't hold it against me, since even freed from Jacob's rope he'd wandered only as far as the other horses at the picket line. And he would recover. But I'd hurt him.

And, apparently, I didn't have a job around here. That one hurt, in part, because it felt so true.

But still--I had a second horse?!

Unable to act on that other whirlwind of emotions, I followed Jacob to the picket line to meet one of the prettiest mares from the remuda. Her coat was gray like suede, darkening into black legs, a black face, and a black mane and tail. Like most horses, she had big, liquid eyes and incredibly long lashes, and I immediately fell in love with her.

"Let her smell you," my husband advised. First, he lifted the back of my hand toward the mare's nose, and she sniffed obediently. Then, bending over me in a way that contradicted how he'd loomed early in our fight, he pursed his lips and sent a soft stream of air at the animal's nose. "Like that."

That seemed weirdly rude, but I tried it. The mare--my mare--flared her nostrils in response, but didn't pull her face away and so didn't seem to take offense.

"Hello, pretty lady," I whispered, and her ears perked toward me. While Jacob woke up Clayton, I went to the chuck wagon and risked my life against Schmidty to get some more sugar, this time for the horses instead of the trail bosses.

I couldn't play favorites, after all.

Feeding Valley Boy with my bruised hand flooded me with guilt and doubts. I'd already ruined one horse--enough that he couldn't be ridden for a few days, anyway. What made Jacob think he could trust me with a new one?

"What do you think, Boy?" I asked my sorrel, but he just wanted more sugar. "Poor Boy. I'm so sorry. Gray Lady, this is Boy. Boy, this is Lady."

Turns out, Clayton had been roused specifically to ride her first. To "ride out some of her kick," were Jacob's orders. What's funny is, Clayton saddled her with my side saddle first, and he hopped up like he was used to it, hooking his dungareed legs around the curved horns without even looking.

Unlike many of the morning mounts, my lady-horse didn't buck or spin at being mounted. Jacob had chosen well. But apparently the menfolk weren't taking any chances with me. Clayton headed out at a quick walk, which he soon enough took into a trot and then a canter. Then he was galloping my gray lady across the plains.

She ran so pretty!

If you've ever known someone who took their toddler to a playground before taking them to a restaurant, you get the concept of what he was doing. I was apparently the restaurant that couldn't handle screaming children.

As we watched, my husband handed me back my gloves, which I put on. There was a frayed spot under one wrist, and a few pulled threads on the embroidery, but otherwise they seemed undamaged. Jacob's usually warm eyes seemed troubled. I don't think he liked fighting any more than I did.

Bellowing orders, sure. Fighting, not so much.

"How long have I had a second horse, Mr. Garrison?" I asked, and the relaxation of his posture showed his relief at my formal pet name.

"You chose her. Day after the big storm." The day we buried Murphy.

I did vaguely remember him asking me which of a small band of horses I liked. That was surprisingly sneaky, for my husband. "And you kept it a secret? As a surprise?"