But staying out of the house meant looking toward the rear windows of Kathleen’s house every ten minutes. I’d noticed the windows were bare that morning when I’d taken Lucky for a turn around the west pasture that butted right up to Kathleen Wright’s back yard. For years, those curtains had been tightly drawn. Now they were gone, and the windows were open as if someone were airing things out. I could hear music playing and as the day wore on, I thought I caught glimpses of Moses and someone else working inside. I was agitated and distracted, and the horses picked up on it, which was never a good thing, especially when working with a horse named Cuss.
I was breaking the horse for Dale Garrett, and Cuss was a big quarter horse with a bigger attitude. His name summed up his owner’s opinion of him. Dean called my dad, and dad promptly turned Cuss over to me. Funny. The old boys in the county didn’t want to call in a girl to break their horses—it rubbed against their manhood—and not in the way they enjoyed. Everybody knew when you called Doc Shepherd—my dad—to break your horse, you were really getting Georgia Shepherd, but it made the bitter pill easier to swallow. And I didn’t care. Eventually, they would get over it. I would wear them down too. Just like old Cuss. I took inordinate pleasure in wearing down the ornery ones.
We were in the round corral and I was running Cuss, lunging him, no halter, just the two of us getting used to each other. I stood in the center of the corral with a rope in hand and swung it out, using it like a whip, never touching him, just making him change direction and respect my space. Every once in a while I’d step in front of him and make him turn around, making him run if he wanted to get away. Applying pressure. It was nothing new. I’d run him like this several times in the last week, and today I was ready to go to second base. Cuss let me approach, and I swung my rope in a lazy circle, just talking to him as I neared his shoulder. So far, so good.
Cuss was breathing hard and his eyes were trained on me, but he didn’t shift. I laid the end of the rope against his neck gently, and then took it off again. I did it again, a little harder, and he trembled a little. I moved the rope to the other side, stroking his neck with it, getting him used to being touched, getting him used to the rope against his throat, desensitizing him. And then, carefully, slowly, I eased a loop up and over his neck, letting it hang loosely around his shoulders. I waited, holding the lead rope in my hands, waiting for him to tell me no.
“Before long, he’ll be begging Georgia to tie him up,” a voice said from somewhere behind me. Cuss skittered and whinnied, pulling his head away sharply and taking me with him, the rope searing my hands before I dropped it and let him go.
“I see some things haven’t changed.” I dusted off my smarting hands and turned toward him. I didn’t have to see his face to know. It was almost a relief to get this over with.
Moses stood outside the corral, his hands hanging over the top plank, a foot resting on the bottom one. A man stood at his side, a toothpick in his mouth, his posture identical to Moses’s. But that was where the similarities ended.
“Animals still don’t like you very much, do they?” I said. My composure pleased me.
“It’s not just animals. Moses has that effect on most people too.” The stranger smiled and extended his hand over the fence. “In fact, I think I’m his only friend.” I walked toward him, toward Moses, and took the proffered hand.
“Hi, Georgia. I’m Tag.” There was Texas in his voice and he looked like he could handle Cuss handily if he wanted to. He brought to mind a good old country boy with a sprinkling of ex-convict thrown in, just to make you watch yourself. He was good looking in a rough sort of way, even with a nose that needed straightening and hair that needed a trim, but his smile was blinding and his handshake was firm. I wondered how in the world he’d ended up with Moses.
I met Moses’s eyes then, the golden-green orbs that were all wrong, and still so wonderful, in his dark face. And much like it had a week ago on that crowded elevator, the earth beneath my feet shifted, just slightly, just enough to make me wonder if the ground was slanted or my perspective was just skewed. I probably stared too long, but he stared right back, tipping his head to the side, as if he too needed to readjust.
The man beside Moses cleared his throat uncomfortably and then laughed a little, saying something under his breath that I didn’t catch.
“What’s going on at Kathleen’s? You sellin’ the place?” I asked, ending the stand-off with Moses and turning away. Cuss still had my other rope looped around his neck, so I snagged another one from the fence post on the other side of Tag. Cuss was hugging the far side of the corral like he’d been sent to time-out.
“Maybe. Right now, we’re just cleaning it up,” Moses replied quietly.
“Why?” I challenged. “Why now?” I eyed him again without smiling, not willing to make small talk with a huge mistake. And that was what he was. A huge mistake. I wanted to know why he was here. And I wanted to know when he would be leaving. I circled toward Cuss, making him whinny and tremble, wanting to run, but apparently not wanting to run toward the strangers at the fence.
“It was time,” Moses said simply, as if time held more sway than I ever did.
“I’d be interested in buying it, if you decide to sell.” It would make sense. I’d thought about it for a long time, but I’d never wanted to track Moses down to make an offer. But he was back. And if he was selling, the house made sense for me, bordering my parents’ property the way it did.
He didn’t respond, and I shrugged like it didn’t make any difference to me what he did with the house. I started moving toward Cuss, leaving the two unwelcome visitors to do what they wanted.
“Georgia?” I flinched when Moses said my name, and then Tag swore, a long, drawn-out shhhhiiiiiiit, that didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
“Georgia? Does that horse belong to you?” Moses asked sharply.
“Who, Cuss? No. I’m just breaking him.” I didn’t look up at the question, but continued moving in on Cuss.
“No. Not that horse.” Moses’s voice sounded strange and I looked up, beyond the round corral and the small riding arena, out to the pasture where our horses grazed.