the barn, circled a wheelbarrow full of manure and ran back inside. All three were laughing.
“No,” she said, “I guess it isn’t.”
She kept watching him, and he had the feeling she was trying to see inside him.
Don’t, he wanted to tell her. What you find you won’t like.
He strode to the barn, as if he had something important to do. He did—get away. Being close to her made him uncomfortable. He liked the opposite sex. Always had. But he didn’t fool around with married women or divorcées with children. Much too complicated. He didn’t have anything to offer a woman with responsibilities. He was a good-time sort of guy, nothing more. He’d messed up his own family. He had no intention of messing up anybody else’s.
The following Wednesday he was sitting atop Cinco giving the three youngsters a lesson in the big outdoor arena—Megan on Birdsong, Heather on Fiddlesticks and Brad on Joker—when he heard the gurgle of a diesel pulling up the driveway. He swiveled in the saddle but didn’t recognize the maroon pickup that stopped next to Kayla’s Toyota. Didn’t immediately recognize the driver, either. He and Kayla, however, greeted each other familiarly.
The visitor wasn’t exceptionally tall even in cowboy boots, but he had the brawny bulk of someone who worked out with weights. After shaking Kayla’s hand, he stood behind the fence, gazing out at the children riding inside the oblong arena. It wasn’t until he removed his Western hat and brushed back his wheat-colored hair that Ethan recognized him.
Noah. Holden Kelley’s son. He’d been on the football team with Ethan’s brother, Jud. Ethan knew Noah had taken over the pulpit of St. Mark’s Church after his father had suffered a second stroke a couple of months ago. A chip off the old block, no doubt.
Turning away from him and Kayla, Ethan asked the children to reverse direction and continue at a walk. After ten minutes, Megan was growing bored with the slow pace—the kid was always on the move. Even Heather seemed anxious to trot, and Brad had enough natural ability, in spite of his size, to handle it.
“Okay, kids, line up at the far end.”
They obeyed quickly and eagerly.
“We’re going to learn to trot now.”
“Yay!” Megan sang out.
Ethan rode around the arena, demonstrating the proper form.
“To trot, you have to squeeze with your legs, let up slightly on the reins, then give the horse a little kick with your heels to make him go faster.”
He trotted another full circuit and drew to a halt in front of them.
“You first, Megan. Trot from where you are to the other end of the arena, then slow to a walk and turn around.
He wasn’t surprised when she bounced like a puppet with half the strings broken. She didn’t fall off, but she came darn close, and he could see the sheer terror on her face as she clutched the saddle horn. Ethan still couldn’t understand how such an eager student hadn’t learned to trot in a year of lessons. He shrugged off the thought and found a couple of good points to praise—she’d kept her shoulders back and only lost one stirrup—and gave her several pointers on what she needed to do to improve. Heather’s turn.
The first time trotting was scary; he could see doubts and fear clouding her eyes.
“Same thing. One length,” he said.
She kicked Fiddlesticks halfheartedly without results.
“Loosen up on the reins a little.” When she did, he clicked his tongue and ordered the horse into a collected trot. Heather grabbed the saddle horn and bounced violently in the saddle. At not quite the halfway point, Ethan called the horse down to a walk.
“That was a real good start,” he assured her as she returned to her place. “Next time, tighten your knees more and you’ll do even better.”
Brad’s turn.
“Keep your legs straight and tighten your knees. Ready?”
The boy nodded.
“Now give Joker a kick to get her going.”
The look of shock on the boy’s face at the first violent bounce was inevitable, but he instinctively clamped his knees. After initially grabbing the horn, he released it and held the reins in front of him. Ethan watched his eyes. The kid was intense, his attention focused exclusively on what he was doing.
He’s going to be all right. Instead of one length, Ethan let him trot home.
The girls clapped their hands in approval, surprising Ethan with their generosity. He praised the boy and watched his eyes light up. How long had it been since anyone had given him real encouragement?
While the children resumed riding in a circle—theoretically cooling their horses down—Ethan nudged Cinco over to the sidelines.
Noah looked up at him, smiling pleasantly. “You’re making those kids very happy.”
Ethan swung out of the saddle. “They’re doing okay.”
“I’m Noah Kelley.” They shook hands. Noah’s grip was firm. “You probably don’t remember me. It’s been a while—”
“What brings you out here, preacher?”
Ethan sensed Kayla stiffen at his abrupt manner. Noah seemed not to notice.
“Kayla was telling me what a terrific job you’re doing with these kids, and I thought I’d come out and see for myself.”
“I’m not one of your parishioners, padre. You don’t have to check up on me.”
Noah snorted, seemingly more amused than offended by the remark. “Actually I’m here as an envoy.”
“Well, why don’t you go ahead and deliver your message.” And leave.
“Not a message, a request. Some of our parishioners have children with special needs. After hearing what Kayla had to say Sunday about the great job you’ve been doing here with Heather and Brad, they’re wondering if you’d be willing to give their kids horseback lessons, as well. They’ll be happy to pay you,” he added.
“How many kids?”
“Six altogether.”
Seven paying students instead of one. The income would certainly be welcome. He’d have to juggle his schedule…. “Why didn’t they ask me themselves? Why send you?”
Noah shrugged his muscular shoulders. “They were afraid you’d turn them down, I reckon.”
“And they thought you might have special influence?”
Noah flashed his pearly whites. “Pretty naive, huh?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan caught Kayla staring at him. He knew he was acting like an ass, but Kelley wasn’t a name he had reason to respect.
“What are their ages and problems?”
Noah reached into a breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “I’ve written it all down for you. Names, ages, physical or mental impairments, as well as telephone numbers in case you want to talk to their parents or guardians.”
“Do they understand that I’m not a therapeutic riding instructor?” Ethan asked. “I have no credentials, no particular training. For all they know, I might be doing their kids more harm than good.”
“You obviously have a way with children, Ethan. They respond to you because you genuinely care about them.”
“That’s a pretty glowing evaluation after just a few minutes of observation.”
Noah smiled. “It’s not my judgment, Ethan, it’s Kayla’s. She’s been impressed with what you’ve been able to do with Heather and Brad.”
Ethan