Chris first noticed Leah Bennett because she was arguing with a hoof boot.
"You went on yesterday," she told it. "Nothing about either of you has changed."
Her black gelding stood in the barn aisle with one hind foot resting. He was an ordinary-looking horse, without flashy markings or anything striking about his build, and he seemed content to let her sort out whatever had gone wrong.
"Need a hand?" Chris asked.
Leah looked up. A strand of dark hair had escaped her braid and stuck to her cheek. She had one knee on the rubber mat and the expression of someone whose morning had been delayed by a very small, very stubborn problem.
"Possibly a different personality. Mine isn't helping."
He smiled. He had seen her around Riverside a few times. Once she had been carrying a saddle, a bucket, and an armful of damp saddle pads, refusing help from someone because she had already worked out how to open the tack-room door with her elbow. Another time she had been standing outside her gelding's stall, eating an apple while he watched every bite. Chris set down the brush he was carrying.
"Have you checked the cable?"
"Yes."
He crouched beside her and checked it anyway. Leah watched him discover that she was right.
"I did say."
"You did."
He loosened the fastening and pulled the tongue straight, then shifted back so she could try again. This time the boot slid into place. For a moment, they both looked at it.
"That was annoyingly simple," she said.
"I won't tell anyone."
"I appreciate your discretion."
The gelding lowered his nose to the back of Chris's neck and breathed warmly into his collar.
"He's checking your references."
"Am I doing all right?"
"You haven't brought him anything to eat. That'll count against you."
Chris stood. Leah got up more slowly, brushing grit from the knee of her Wranglers.
"You're Chris, aren't you? With the two mustangs and Bella?"
"Yeah."
"I'm Leah."
They shook hands. Hers was warm and slightly dusty.
"And this is Mike."
The gelding turned his head at his name.
"Hello, Mike." Mike inspected Chris's empty hand, then turned back to Leah.
"He likes a more substantial introduction," she said.
"I'll remember."
She bent to gather the boot bag and a hoof pick. Chris picked up the brush he had abandoned.
"How long have you been here?"
"Three weeks. I changed jobs, and this makes the drive much easier." She tucked the hoof pick into the bag. "I'm still working out where everything goes."
"I wouldn't use me as a guide."
"Why?"
"I know where my things go. That's about it."
"Useful starting point."
He liked the way she looked at him when she spoke. She seemed interested in the answer, even when he hadn't said much.
"What do you do?" he asked.
"Payroll. Which means I spend a surprising amount of time explaining that I can't pay someone for hours they haven't entered."
"Does arguing with the boot count as work experience?" Chris asked.
"It's practically the same conversation."
He laughed. Leah hung the boot bag on a hook.
"Which horse are you riding today?"
"Velvet."
"Going far?"
"Just an easy loop."
"Would you mind company? Mike could use a ride where he isn't convinced we're late for something."
Chris glanced at the gelding. Mike had begun investigating the pocket of Leah's jacket with considerable concentration.
"He looks very concerned about the schedule."
"He's conserving his panic until I get on."
"Give me ten minutes."
"Take twelve. I'll need two to explain to him that we're waiting."
Chris went to fetch Velvet. Halfway to her stall, he became aware that he was walking faster than he needed to. He slowed down. This was a ride. Someone had asked to ride with him. People did that at boarding barns every day.
Velvet looked up when he opened her door, then returned to her hay.
"Morning," he said.
He put her halter on and led her out. While fastening her to the ties, he glanced down at his shirt. There was hay caught in the fabric near his shoulder and a pale smear along one sleeve. He brushed away the hay. The smear resisted his thumb. It was a barn shirt. Leah was wearing jeans with dirt on one knee. There was no reason to stand there worrying about it. He brushed at it once more before reaching for the currycomb.
By the time he brought Velvet outside, Leah was tightening Mike's girth. In daylight, Chris could see the gelding more clearly: a little sun fading in his coat, sensible legs, ears moving quietly between Leah and the activity around them.
"How old is he?"
"Seven."
"How long have you had him?"
"Two years."
Mike turned his head as Leah reached for her helmet. She rubbed the hollow above his eye without looking. "He was meant to be a horse I could afford while I saved for something else," she said.
"What happened?"
"I stopped wanting something else."
Chris looked at Mike again.
"Yeah," he said. "I can understand that."
She smiled at him across the gelding's back.
They mounted and walked down the drive together. Beyond the blue barns, the white four-board fences ran along the paddocks. The morning was cool, but sunlight had begun reaching the grass beneath the mature trees. Mike walked briskly, then tried to edge ahead. Leah brought him back beside Velvet.
"We're accompanying someone," she told him. "You've got to learn to be sociable."
"He can go in front."
"He can also survive the disappointment."
Velvet flicked an ear toward them and continued at her own pace.
"Does she always look that sensible?" Leah asked.
"Usually. I try not to interfere."
"How long have you had her?"
Chris told her. Then she asked about Scot, and he found himself describing the difference between them: the things he trusted each horse with, the habits that could still catch him out, the way Scot occasionally mistook enthusiasm for good judgment. Leah listened, one hand resting low above Mike's withers.
"Mike thinks anything happening ahead of him deserves his immediate involvement."
"Even when it doesn't?"
"Especially then."
At the first suitable stretch, they picked up a steady trot. Leah checked over her shoulder before asking Mike forward, making sure Chris was ready. He appreciated that. Their horses settled into different rhythms, Mike's ears pricked down the trail while Velvet worked with less outward concern. Chris watched Leah ride for a moment. Her elbows moved easily with the reins, and when Mike lifted his head at something in the hedge, she waited until he had looked before asking him to carry on.
At the next turn they returned to walk
.
"What distances do you usually do?" Chris asked.
"Mostly forties. Depends on work, and whether I've managed the conditioning I intended instead of the conditioning I can fit in."
"That sounds familiar."
"Our first one together, I poured water into my own boot at a vet check."
"How?"
"I was trying to sponge him and talk to someone at the same time."
"Dangerous combination."
"Apparently. I squelched for ten kilometers."
"Did you change your sock?"
"Into what? Optimism?"
He laughed loudly enough that Velvet's ear turned back. Leah grinned.
"It's all right. You can laugh. I made it worse by telling everyone I was fine, so nobody offered to help."
"I might have done that."
"Then you can picture the rest."
He could. He could also picture her standing beside Mike, determined to look competent while water escaped from her boot.
"What about Bella?" she asked after a while. "I've seen you working her in the arena."
Chris looked down the trail. "She's getting back into work."
"She's the one who did Tevis?"
"With my brother."
There was a brief pause. Chris braced for a comparison he knew she had no reason to make. Instead, Leah said, "That's a lot of horse to get acquainted with."
"Yeah."
"Do you like her?"
He thought of Bella reaching over the stall door, searching his pockets and leaning into his hand. "I'm getting there."
Leah nodded. "Two years with this one, and I still occasionally ask him whose idea it was."
"Does he answer?"
"He usually points out something he could eat."
As if to demonstrate, Mike tried to bend toward a mouthful of leaves. Leah prevented it with the ease of long practice. Chris's shoulders loosened. She had let the conversation move on without making him explain his brother. They rode the rest of the loop talking in stretches, with comfortable gaps between. Once Leah stopped mid-sentence to listen.
"What?"
"Nothing. I thought he'd lost a boot."
They both looked down. "All present," Chris said.
"For now."
When the barns came back into view, he was surprised by how quickly the ride had gone. In the aisle, they loosened girths and took off bridles. Mike rubbed his nose against Leah's arm, leaving a damp mark.
"Thank you," she told him. "I needed that."
Chris lifted Velvet's saddle away.
"I enjoyed the ride," he said.
"Me too." Leah glanced across at him. "Nice to go out without spending the whole time persuading someone we aren't racing."
"I didn't notice much persuading."
"You should have met him two years ago."
He wanted to keep her talking. He considered asking another question about Mike, but she was already bending to undo a boot.
"Let me know if that one gives you trouble."
"I was hoping you'd forgotten."
"Your secret's safe."
She looked up, smiling. "I'm usually here Saturday mornings."
Chris rested the saddle against his hip. "Usually here myself."
"Maybe we can do it again."
He looked at her properly. She had paused with one hand around the boot fastening and was waiting for his answer. "Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."
"About nine?"
"Nine's good."
"Excellent. I'll tell Mike he has an appointment."
She returned to the boot, and Chris stood there a second longer than necessary before carrying his saddle away. Later, he was cleaning Velvet's bit when he caught himself thinking of something he could tell Leah on Saturday. He tried the sentence under his breath. It sounded less funny spoken aloud. He shook his head and went back to rinsing the bit.
From the aisle came Leah's voice. "See you Saturday, Chris."
He turned. She was leading Mike toward his stall, her helmet tucked under one arm.
"See you."
Mike stopped beside him and inspected his hand again. This time, Chris had a small piece of carrot left in his pocket. Leah watched him offer it on his palm. "Much better references."
"I've been working on them."
She laughed and led Mike away.
Chris stood at the sink until they had turned the corner. Then he shut off the water, dried the bit, and hung Velvet's bridle on its hook. On his way out, he checked his phone to make sure there was nothing he needed to do Saturday morning.
(1833 words)