Cindy C Bennett Immortal Mine (epub)

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Like that doesn’t make me even more uncomfortable, as if we were on a date or something.What can I do, though, but climb in and let him close the door behind me.“I’m not rushing through my chores so that I can get out to the pasture to watch Sam with the Irish.I’m hurrying because… okay, maybe that’s the reason a little bit.It has nothing to do with Sam.I just want to watch the horse.He’s so beautiful.All six-foot-three, red-headed—” I gasp and break off, glaring at Bob as if he caused me to say that.He’s trying to be a good friend, sitting at my feet, glancing at me as much as he possibly can while I ramble—not an easy task with the chickens in front of him, egging him on just by existing.“I so did not mean that,” his head, which had been inching back in the direction of the source of his divided attention, jerks toward me at my harsh tone.I smack my forehead with the palm of my hand—and grimace as I feel the grind of the chicken feed, which is now rolling down my face.I angrily brush the feed from my hand using the front of my jeans, then brush it from my face, as Bob tries to catch the miniscule falling pieces, pretty much just snapping air between his jaws—which makes me laugh.I back out of the pen, calling Bob with me.His head hangs dejectedly as a result of my cutting into his chicken chasing time with my conversation, but once the gate closes behind us, he perks up and bounds off.I walk into the horse barn, peeking in on Sheila, my mare.She stands happily in her clean stall, eating fresh hay next to her full water trough.I know I should be happy my parents are back and that they’ve done some of my more time consuming chores, like cleaning Sheila’s stall and feeding and watering all the horses.I grunt and turn toward the sounds I can hear coming from outside in the paddock.I give in to the urge and follow the sounds out.Sam is working the Irish in the same manner as the previous time.This time, I climb up on the top rung of the fence and watch more closely.Bob jumps up on his hind legs, paws at me once and whines, as if upset that I didn’t bring him up to sit with me.I push a palm toward him and he backs down, settling for sticking his nose through the bottom rung.The Irish continues his wild defiance, though not quite so harshly as previously.Sam just keeps on clucking and soothing, and while they are both covered in sweat once again, neither is breathing quite as hard once the stallion gives in.Sam grins at me, walks closer to the horse, shortening the line as he goes, continuing to talk in monosyllables as he nears.The Irish tosses his head and snorts, but allows the nearness.Sam urges the horse forward, walking next to him.“What do you think, Niahm? Thinks he’s ready for the saddle?”It takes me a few seconds to grasp the question, since he delivers it in the same soothing voice, just slightly louder than his other words.“I think that would be cruel,” I say.“Look at the poor beast, he’s sweating and exhausted.”“Best time to try it,” he says.“I think you’d do better to give him a name.”He grins at me again, and I look away, Stacy’s words ringing in my mind again.“Got any ideas?” His words pull my attention back to him.I lean forward, hooking my feet behind the next log down, leaning my weight on my arms as I consider the stallion, now walking almost docilely next to Sam.“I don’t know.He’s an unusual horse; he should have an unusual name.”“Yeah, that’s why I haven’t named him yet.Nothing’s come to me that seems right.”“Doesn’t your uncle have any say in it?”Sam shrugs.“The horses are more of my thing than his.He likes to ride, occasionally, but he’s not as crazy as I am about them.”“Oh yeah? Why are you so crazy about them?”“I’ve been riding horses for so many years, that I guess it makes me feel like I’m home.”“So, where is that? Home, I mean.”Sam glances at me, wariness stealing into his face.I get the distinct feeling that he doesn’t want to answer me.“Is it a secret or—” I ask, when the silence lengthens.Just then, the Irish gives a kicking buck, throwing his head.“Whoa, there,” Sam’s attention is drawn back to the horse.“I think he’s had enough for one day,” he calls to me, struggling with the lead.“Can you get the gate for me, Niamh?”I jump down and swing the gate open, stepping behind it as he leads the Irish through.I follow him into the stable and pull the gate open for his stall.Sam removes the lead, and gives the nervous horse a quick rubdown, before rewarding him with an apple from the bucket of apples I keep in the barn for just such things.He hangs up the lead on the nail tacked outside the stall, then follows me back outside.Bob comes bounding over, bypassing me and waggling his tail enthusiastically for Sam.I lift my eyebrows at him.He grins, not so innocently.“I just used a little bribery on Bob the couple of times I’ve been here.Wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be attacking me again.”“Bob, you traitor!” I accuse.He glances up at me, his ears flattening in chagrin for all of about one-tenth of a millisecond.Sam and I laugh and I glance up at him.Suddenly the smile drops from Sam’s face and he steps closer to me, alarm on his face.“What?” I ask, my hands immediately going up to my cheeks, wondering what’s wrong.“Your eyes!” he declares, and I relax.I’m used to the strange reaction when someone really looks at my eyes for the first time, and realizes that they are clear, only ringed with gold which gives them the appearance of actually having color.“Yeah,” I smile, “I know my eyes are different, they’re—”“Colorless,” he finishes, still sounding alarmed.I bristle a little at his summation.I’ve had them called unique, unusual, exceptional… any number if descriptive verbs, but never “colorless.”“They’re not exactly colorless, they just—”“There you are, kiddo [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Linki