Free Love Somebody Like You by Susan Fox

Ben.
    Disturbed, she led Smoke Signals outside and was tightening his cinch when a Jeep drove up with a man and woman inside. They were a twenty-something brother and sister who, together with their parents, owned a natural foods store in Caribou Crossing. After an exchange of greetings, they mounted their horses and rode off.
    Sally checked her schedule. The chicken coop could use cleaning. Did she have time now? Yes, the next riders wouldn’t be here for an hour and a half. The four women, all moms who worked part-time, came for a ride at least a couple of times a week. They had nice lives, balancing work, recreation, and family.
    Or at least so it seemed from the outside, from their easy smiles and the bits of conversation she heard. But Sally well knew that no one could judge the happiness of a marriage from the outer facade. Like an overly made-up face, you had no idea what lay beneath.
    That reminder, that return of common sense, had her leaning on the open stall door and telling Ben, “Much as I appreciate the help, your top priority should be seeing a physiotherapist. You have one you see in Alberta, don’t you?”
    â€œSure do. How about Caribou Crossing? Is it big enough to have a physio or two?”
    Absentmindedly, she said, “One of my students goes to Monique Labelle, who’s doing a great job with the girl.” If Ben drove home, taking it slow, he could make an appointment for a couple of days from now. “Once you see the physio, you’ll heal more quickly.” And healing, getting back to the rodeo, was what mattered to him, after all.
    He used the back of his right hand to shove his shaggy hair from his brow. She saw the calluses on his palm. Rodeo calluses. She used to have them, too. Now hers came from pitchforks and shovels.
    â€œYou’re right,” he said. “I need to make an appointment.”
    â€œOkay.” He’d agreed so easily.... “I mean, that’s good.” Of course it was good. Having him here might lighten her workload, but it wreaked havoc with her peace of mind.
    Â 
    Â 
    Ben went looking for Sally, who had disappeared after their chat. Despite what she seemed to think, he did know how to look after himself. Rodeo was his livelihood, supplemented in the off season by working for a horse trainer. Rodeo had also been his passion since he was a little kid. He and Chaunce would be back on the circuit the moment his shoulder was healed enough for roping, though bronc riding might have to wait a while longer.
    In the meantime, he and Chaunce needed to keep in shape. He was glad Sally had finally accepted his help, but her next booking was a ways off, so he figured she’d have time to handle the preparation herself. This seemed like a good opportunity to take Chaunce out.
    As Ben went around the barn, he heard Sally’s voice coming from inside the chicken coop. Outside in the run, a few chickens pecked, scratched, and clucked. He eased the gate open and slipped inside, careful not to let any of them escape, then stood in the doorway of the neat little coop.
    Sally had her back to him as, rubber-gloved, she cleaned roosts and nest boxes and chatted to another four or five chickens who seemed to be answering. He didn’t alert her to his presence, just enjoyed watching her, all cheerful and relaxed the same as with the kids she taught. Treating these hens like children, too.
    She had a nice-looking flock, not that he was an expert on chickens. Half of hers were a blond color and the others had charcoal and white alternating bands.
    Sally turned and saw him. Her hand flew to her chest. “I didn’t know you were there.”
    â€œYou name your hens?”
    A flush colored her cheeks, making her look young and flustered. “They lay better when they have names,” she said defensively.
    He suppressed a grin. It was probably true. Maybe not about the names, but that well cared for hens were contented and good