Free Summer at Mustang Ridge by Jesse Hayworth Page A

words, they were stuck reading her body language and guessing at the cues.
    His eyes glinted. “Ridden some greenies, have you?”
    “I’m not sure two years of doing donuts at the local riding school counts as the kind of riding you’re talking about.” And neither did the horse-crazy phase when she read every horse book she could get her hands on, and watched
The Black Stallion
over and over again on the VCR, crying a little when Alec and the Black galloped along the deserted island and slept together near the fire, neither of them alone anymore.
    Kid stuff,
she thought, and didn’t let herself yearn.
    “Everything counts,” Foster said firmly. “And I don’t think she needs sacking out—that’d just scare her worse. No, this would be more like when we use an experienced horse to help settle a timid greenie. Baby horses can’t exactly hold their mama’s hand, but they get reassurance from physical contact, by bumping up against bigger, stronger horses. They also take cues on whether stuff is scary or not, watching to see what their older herd mates do. So when I’m training a nervous young horse, I’ll ride out with someone else on a veteran and let mine get in real close if he needs to. In the early stages it’s not about a youngster learning how to be brave on his own. It’s about getting him out there and doing the job. Then, later, you can wean him off the buddy system and get him working alone.”
    Ranch-isms aside, it resonated. “So, from a training perspective, you think I should be the old gray mare? Is that better or worse than a grizzly?” She shifted, wondering if he could sense her discomfort, wondering what he thought about it.
    “I think you should be right there for your daughter to lean on while she tries something new, just like you’ve always been.”
    She swallowed to ease her suddenly tight throat. “By riding with her rather than watching from the sidelines.”
    “When you’re training a greenie, especially one that’s prone to getting twitchy, it’s important to stay flexible. There are hundreds of different ways to train a horse, some with big names and advertising budgets, others that fall under the headings of gut feel or ‘because that’s the way my grandpappy did it.’ No one theory is going to work on every horse, and with some horses you wind up going through a whole lot of theories before you hit on one that gets the job done.”
    “So, how do you know which one will work?”
    “Most of the time, you don’t. Not right off, anyway. You give something a really good shot, and if it doesn’t work, you try something else.” He paused. “Question is, are you ready to try something else?”
    She wavered. “I can’t expect Krista to fund lessons for both of us.”
    “Krista’s in charge of the main house, but when it comes to the barn, I’m the man.”
    Yes, you are
. She might’ve thought it before, but now it was confirmed—he wasn’t just a cowboy; he was a smart, well-spoken guy who knew himself and knew his stuff, and she liked that. And despite their rocky start, she was beginning to like him, and not just in an “ooh, pretty” way. She respected the way his mind worked. Plus, she appreciated that he’d apologized for Lizzie getting scared, even if it wasn’t his fault, and . . . Well, she liked
him
. A lot.
    When she’d been getting ready to leave for the summer, a couple of friends at the office had ribbed her about having a hot affair while she was out West. She had laughed them off—
not in the market, spending the summer with my kid
—but now parts of her that had been quiet for a Very Long Time were starting to wake up. Fortunately, though—or unfortunately, depending on whether she was letting her head or her heart do the voting—Foster didn’t seem to be interested in her, not that way. He was sitting right beside her, not making any sort of move except to talk about Lizzie. Which was good, because it put them on the same team—and