Free Summer at Mustang Ridge by Jesse Hayworth

of fact, I do.”
    She stared at his profile. “Really?”
    “I think you should take a few lessons yourself.”
    “I . . . what?” Her stomach gave a queer little twist.
    “The therapies are all about modeling behavior, right? When kids can talk to their families at home, but not anyone outside, you either bring a teacher or therapist into the home or send the parents to school, set up a safe environment, and work on making the kids feel comfortable enough to talk. Once they’ve got that down, you gradually introduce new people or places, adding a little bit at a time and showing them they can do it.” At her startled look, he shrugged. “After Stace told me what happened, I did some poking around. Google is my friend.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Just because parts of cowboying go back to the eighteen hundreds doesn’t mean it all does. I’ve even got an iPhone. Er, somewhere.”
    “Well, then.” Really, though, it wasn’t the computer she was questioning. It was him. Why was he doing this? Krista was a softie, Gran needed her help, and Stace wanted a case study for extra credit. And they were all warm, kind, and friendly. Foster, though . . . she didn’t know where he was coming from. He was an undeniable presence at the ranch, but he wasn’t a joiner, didn’t seem like he wanted a friend. Yet he’d looked up SM therapies online, and he’d sought her out to talk about them.
    “The way I see it, you’re doing the same sort of modeling, except it’s harder because she’s completely silent, so you’re down to encouraging any interaction at all. Stace said you tried all the by-the-books stuff back home, with no luck, so Gertie suggested coming here.”
    Her throat threatened to clog with the emotions that were way too close to the surface, threatening the “everything’s okay” attitude she did her best to maintain. Lizzie needed to see her being calm and in control, needed to feel like there wasn’t anything to fear, no pressure, no anxiety. But that was such a crock. Shelby wanted to shout on a daily basis, wanted to scream, wanted to pitch a fit and demand to know why this had happened to Lizzie, to them—only there wasn’t anyone to ask, nobody to answer, leaving them both locked in silence. It was maddening, heartbreaking, exhausting.
    Oh, so exhausting.
    Foster didn’t need to know any of that, though. He was offering to help, and didn’t need her spewing at him the way she’d blathered at Krista. So she breathed past the surge of tears and kept herself together. As she always did.
Deep breath.
Voice low and steady, she said, “She’s always liked animals. We thought . . .
I
thought that learning to ride would make her feel brave. Maybe even that the horses would be something she could talk to.”
    “It could still work that way, which is why I think you should do some riding. You’re not at home anymore, not around familiar things. SM kids are all about being in a safe place, right? So maybe you need to be her safe place, even when it comes to riding.”
    “But the horses are her thing, not mine. I wanted her to do it . . .” She shook her head, frustrated. “I wanted her to be brave and do it alone. Which just made things worse, didn’t it?”
    “Not every training moment is going to be a good one. Trust me on that one.”
    She bristled. “She’s not a horse.”
    “No offense intended, Mama Bear. That’s just how my brain is wired.” He tapped his temple. “Cowboy, you know.”
    Deciding to let it go, she looked at him sidelong. “Mama Bear?”
    “A grizzly protects her cubs no matter what, and she’s fierce at it.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. “You should’ve seen yourself coming into the barn to rescue her that first day.”
    “I looked like a grizzly?”
    “Not exactly, but let’s go with it.”
    “Hm. So Lizzie is, what, a high-strung horse that needs to be sacked out?” Maybe it wasn’t the worst comparison. In the absence of