“I can hardly move, but yesterday’s ride was the happiest two hours I’ve spent in as long as I can remember. I can’t wait to do it again.” She stroked Harley’s neck. “Can you stand taking me out again? Did I bore you yesterday?”

Janice tightened the girth and pulled down the stirrups. “That’s the great thing about horses. They’re perfect listeners. There are just two of you on the ride this morning. Hello, Brian! We were just talking about you. Pepper is all ready and waiting in her stall.”

A man about Connie’s age walked into the yard carrying a riding hat.

Connie felt a thud of disappointment. Not that she’d expected to be the only person on the ride. Far from it. Yesterday she’d been one of eight, and it had been perfect. She’d blended in and, apart from friendly small talk when they’d been gathering in the yard before leaving, had spoken to no one. No one had asked about her life. No one had sympathized with her about Milly’s situation. No one had asked how Connie was coping.

She’d felt delightfully anonymous as part of a group.

But riding with Janice and one other person?

She’d be expected to make conversation.

Resigned to it, she smiled politely. “I’m Connie.”

“Brian.” Unsmiling, he gave her a brisk nod and let himself into Pepper’s stall. He clearly knew what he was doing, because what seemed like only moments later he was mounted and talking quietly to the lively mare, his hands light on the reins as he calmed her.

Connie, who could barely move after her ride the day before, was rethinking her decision to ride again so quickly. Harley was nowhere near as boisterous as Pepper (thank goodness!), but still Connie was wishing she’d waited until her muscles had recovered.

Gritting her teeth and forcing her legs to move, she mounted Harley and waited while Janice led her own horse out of the stable.

There was a slightly awkward moment as Harley took a few side steps, and Connie found herself side-by-side with Brian.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Connie said politely, and Brian frowned and glanced briefly at the sky, as if he hadn’t noticed the weather before Connie had mentioned it.

He said nothing in response, and Connie was briefly offended that he’d made no effort in response to her show of good manners, but then decided it gave her the excuse to ride in silence, which was exactly what she wanted.

He obviously wasn’t the chatty sort, and that was a good thing. She didn’t want chat. She wasn’t here to chat.

And at least now no one could accuse her of being rude.