Free All the King's Horses by Lauren Gallagher Page B

want to get fired quite yet, but what else could I do?
    Before I could talk myself out of it, I unlatched Chip’s door and slid it open. His ears immediately flattened, and his eyes narrowed as I stepped into his stall.
    “Easy, Chip,” I said softly.
    His ears stayed down and his nostrils flared. I was on his turf now, and I knew damn well how dangerous a volatile, territorial horse could be.
    Without taking my eyes off him, I lowered myself until I could reach the small pile of hay inside his manger. I closed my fingers around a small handful and slowly rose.
    I held out my hand, offering the hay. Chip kept his ears laid back, but he sniffed. Again, this time leaning a little closer, and his ears started to come up.
    Then he looked at me again and drew back, flattening his ears once more.
    “It’s okay.” I kept my hand out. Moving as slowly as I possibly could, I leaned toward him until my center of gravity had shifted too much to go any farther without moving my feet. Then I took a half step, and Chip drew back.
    There, I stopped. I didn’t move, didn’t pull back or go any closer, just stood with the handful of hay close enough to him he could reach it if he wanted to.
    “It’s okay,” I said again. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetie.”
    A full minute passed with Chip watching me through narrow eyes. Finally, he sniffed the air. His ears came up a little. Another sniff. His ears rose a tiny bit more, just enough that they started to turn toward me. His nose inched toward my hand, and his ears alternated between almost lying down again and almost coming up all the way.
    One piece of hay stuck out farther than the rest, and Chip stretched his neck and used his upper lip to reach for the end of that piece. Then, without coming any closer to me than he absolutely had to, he grabbed the end with his lips and pulled it until he could get it between his teeth. He snatched it away and drew back, quickly gathering that precious morsel of hay into his mouth.
    My arm ached, especially since it was the same one he’d bitten—that would be a lovely bruise—but I kept my hand outstretched while he chewed that single piece. After a moment of hesitation, he came back for more, and of course, he had to come closer this time. He managed to grab a few more pieces and decided he was brave enough to come in for a third bite.
    And all the while, my stomach sank a little deeper. Moments like this with horses like Chip were supposed to be exhilarating, even when it was something as small as convincing him to eat out of my hand. Earning even the tiniest scrap of trust was a milestone with a horse like him.
    Big surprise: I was still emotionally flat-lining.
    Relieved he was over his panic? Of course. But that grin-inducing thrill, the kind my sister had once compared to watching her daughter take her first steps, was completely MIA.
    “Well,” I said quietly as Chip took some more hay from my hand, “at least there’s hope for one of us.”
    Chip stopped chewing. His ears went up, and when he looked past me, I realized there were footsteps approaching, and I cringed as much as I could without startling the horse. There was no getting out of this one. Whoever it was, they were already too close for me to make an undetected exit, especially since any kind of speed would scare Chip all over again, which also meant I couldn’t jerk back the hay I offered without startling him.
    Right outside the door, the footsteps stopped.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” Dustin’s tone was soft and gentle, but I had no illusion that was for my benefit and not Chip’s. The voice was meant for the horse, the words for me.
    With my heart in my throat, I knelt and set the remaining hay on the floor between Chip and me. Then I rose, backed away and stepped through the doorway’s narrow opening.
    Once I was outside, I closed the stall door, and Dustin and I moved away so we were out of Chip’s range if he decided to get territorial again.