She glanced at him, apprehension shining in her green eyes. “Will I be grooming him in the stall?”
“No.” He should have explained that from the get-go, but he’d been distracted, damn it. “I’ll lead him out back and tie him to the hitching post. That gives you more room to maneuver.”
“Oh. Good.” She still didn’t seem relaxed, but some of the fear had left her eyes.
“You can carry this.” He handed her the caddy for the grooming tools. “I’ll bring him out for you.” Eventually he’d like to have her feel comfortable going into the stall with the horse, but that would be for another day.
She backed away as he unlatched the door and walked inside, all the while talking to the gelding. Rocket Fuel was such a great horse, up for anything. Adam had bought him for sentimental reasons, because he’d seen him race a few times. Rocket Fuel had turned out to be perfect for working with PTSD patients.
Adam clipped the lead rope to the horse’s halter and led him out of the stall. Valerie stood clear across the aisle. She’d put on her hat and tucked the earpiece of her sunglasses in the neck of her T-shirt. She held the caddy in front of her like a shield. Apparently petting Rocket Fuel when he was safely confined in a stall was a whole other thing from confronting him up close and personal.
He decided a little coaching might be in order. “I’ll walk on his left and you can walk on his right.”
“How about I just follow you out?”
“When working with a horse, it’s best to walk beside them. They can see you then, and they like that better. Horses are prey animals, and we’re predators. They have more reason to fear us than we have to fear them.”
She nodded, although her expression told him she didn’t really buy that. She followed his suggestion and walked alongside, but she put as much distance between herself and the horse as possible. Rocket Fuel’s hooves clicked rhythmically on the cement floor.
“Is it true they can smell fear?”
Poor woman. She was really frightened. He could hardly wait until she realized how gentle this horse was. “I don’t know about that, but I’m sure they pick up on our moods.”
“Will I make him nervous?”
“Don’t worry about Rocket Fuel. He’s the steadiest horse on the planet. Believe it or not, he seems to know it’s his job to help people get used to him. You two will be buddies before you know it.”
“You think?”
“I know. I’ve seen it happen.” He led the gelding into the sunshine and over to the hitching post.
Valerie followed, but maintained her distance.
“I suggest starting with the brush.” Adam kept his voice nonchalant. “I like to go front to back, neck to tail, kind of like washing a car. Then you can come around and repeat the process on the other side.” He tied the lead rope to the cross rail of the hitching post.
“Have you ever washed a car?”
It was a fair question. Guys like him usually didn’t wash cars. She was a smart cookie who knew that. “Matter of fact, I have washed a car. Will’s, not mine. We used to hang out at his house because . . . I guess because we could do things like wash his car in the driveway. It was a novelty for me.” He rested his hands on Rocket Fuel’s back and gazed at her. “Ready to get started?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She set down the caddy and pulled out a brush before slowly approaching the horse. “Would you mind staying right there for a little while? Just until I get the hang of it?”
“Be glad to.”
With the brush in her left hand, she stroked Rocket Fuel’s neck so lightly that it probably tickled him. He snorted, and she drew back. “I’m doing it wrong.”
“Use a little more pressure. He’s a big guy. He can take it.”
“Okay.” She stepped closer and put some muscle into it. She had a cute habit of poking her tongue into her cheek while she concentrated on her work.
“That’s great. Perfect. So you’re left-handed?”
“No. This is the arm that was broken, and my physical therapist told me to use it whenever I could, since my natural tendency is to use my right.”
“Broken?”
She hesitated. “Maybe I should tell you what happened. It’s not a big secret or anything.”
“You’re not required to.” Although he did want to know. Some of the soldiers didn’t want to talk, which he understood, but knowing the nature of the trauma helped him work with them. The horses, instinctive creatures that they were, didn’t need to know a damned thing, but Adam was only human.
“It might help if you know where I’m coming from.”
Will had cautioned him not to counsel without a license, and to be up front about that with the people who came to his ranch, so he delivered the usual disclaimer. “Just remember I’m no therapist, just a guy with a ranch and some horses.”
She glanced up at him, a gleam of humor in her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She returned her attention to the horse. “Should I do his legs?”
“Sure. Brush everything except his privates.”
A quick smile put a dimple in her cheek.
She was a beautiful woman, and a plucky one, too. She crouched down to brush Rocket Fuel’s fetlocks, putting herself close to his hooves. Maybe she was beginning to believe this horse wasn’t out to hurt her.
When she didn’t continue with her story, he thought maybe she’d decided against telling it, after all.
But then she spoke. “Remember the fire that broke out during a concert a few months ago?”
His heart stalled. “You were there?”
“Yes. I got caught in the crush and knocked down. I was lucky that I only ended up with a couple of broken ribs and a broken arm. But it scared the bejeezus out of me. People were . . .” She swallowed. “Crazy.”
He had the impulse to walk around the horse and hold her, but he didn’t think that would be a wise move. “I guess you must have gone alone.” He’d met her two friends, and they would have fought that crowd tooth and nail to make sure they all got out unscathed.
“I went with a guy.”
Adam sucked in a breath. He tried to remember if anyone had died in that mob scene. He wasn’t sure. “Did he . . . was he . . .”
“Oh, he’s fine.” She brushed Rocket Fuel’s foreleg again and again. “He used to run track, so he vaulted over people on his way to the exit. I tried to follow him, but that didn’t work out.”
“He left you?” Adam’s muscles bunched in an instinctive response to that horrific news. Good thing Mr. Track Star wasn’t standing here, or he would no longer be fine.
“Yes, but I can’t talk, can I?” She kept her attention on her task. “I thought the bar was on fire and I ran out on my two best friends.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is, and I’ll tell you why. At the bar, you responded that way because of your previous bad experience. I doubt the track star had that excuse when he ran out on you. Also, when a man escorts a woman somewhere, he’s in charge of her safety. Case closed.”
She looked up at him without speaking, but her eyes said plenty. They started off with a soft glow that grew brighter, and brighter yet. Apparently she’d really liked hearing him say that. “Thank you, Adam.”
“For what?”
“Being a stand-up kind of guy.”
His conscience pricked him. “Don’t make me out to be a hero. I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of.”
“But you wouldn’t abandon a woman to a crazed mob.”
“God, no. I’m sorry if you like the guy, but that’s despicable. You could have been killed.”
“Fortunately I wasn’t.” She stood. “But since then I’ve been a little . . . edgy.”
“No doubt.”
She started in on Rocket Fuel’s flanks. “You don’t have to babysit me now. I’m getting into this.”
“Okay.” He stepped back. “When you get to his rump, just come around that way to this side, but stick close to him and keep your hand on him so he’ll know you’re there. He’s not a kicker, but it’s better to learn good habits. When walking around behind a horse, either stay out of range, or move in close so he can’t get any momentum.”
“Have you ever been kicked?”
“Once, and I’m sure it was an accident, plus I wasn’t paying attention like I should have been. I had a football-sized bruise on my thigh for a good while, but no broken bones.” He hoped telling that story hadn’t been a mistake. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I want you to be safe.”
“You’ve made that very clear. And I appreciate it.”
“Common sense takes care of most things with horses, especially if they’re raised right, like Rocket Fuel was. I can’t take any credit for him. He was a sweetheart when I got him.”
“Mm-hm.” Her answer was soft, almost indistinct.
He no longer heard the sound of the brush whisking over the horse’s coat. When he peered over Rocket Fuel’s back, he discovered her head was down, her face obscured by the brim of her hat. She rested the hand with the brush against Rocket Fuel’s ribcage, and she’d propped her other hand right next to it. Her shoulders quivered. She was crying.