Now that she’s been exposed to me, she wants to clam up again. She wants to rebuild those walls.

That’s fine . . . I’ll let her think that it’s working. That she’s still in control of this thing between us.

And then, when the moment is right . . . I’m going to capture her again. I’m going to find her most vulnerable places, the cracks in her armor, and I’m going to split it wide open. I’m going to grab hold of her—stripped-down, raw, and genuine. And I’m going to force her to admit what she actually likes.

But not just yet. Right now, I need to pull back and give her space. Let her get comfortable again. Let her think she has control.

Meanwhile, I’m just biding my time.

We ride back the way we came, slower on the way back because I’m sure Riona is sore from riding. This is unfamiliar exercise to her, unfamiliar motion.

I was surprised how well she did.

I guess I shouldn’t have been—she’s smart and competitive. Quick to catch on to something new. Wise enough to respect the horses.

When we get back to the house, I see Grady in the round training ring, chasing a brand-new horse. It’s an Appaloosa, probably two years old. Its front half is a smooth, glossy black, while its back is white with dappled black spots, like a rug thrown over its hindquarters. It’s a beautiful animal, with long legs and a well-shaped head. But I can tell immediately that it’s wild and bad-tempered, and totally unbroken. It bites and snaps at Grady when he tries to get near it. He hasn’t gotten the bridle over its head.

I halt the horses a good way back—I don’t want Brutus getting riled up by the sight of the other horse and its fury. Grady tries again, unsuccessfully, to fit the halter over its head.

I lead Brutus and Penny the long way around to the stable, where I show Riona how to remove their saddles again, how to feed and water and rub them down. She seems genuinely interested in that, not jumping off and wandering away the moment the ride is done, like so many tourists do after their first ride.

Riona is highly attentive to Penny, brushing her coat and patting her affectionately.

“She’s such a good horse,” Riona says.

“She is.” I nod. “So’s Brutus, but you have to remind him of that.”

I give Brutus a good scratch on the shoulders like he likes and feed him a couple of carrots. Penny gets apples, since they’re her favorite.

“What are they doing to that horse in the pen?” Riona asks me.

“Looks like Grady is trying to break it,” I say.

“What does that mean?”

“You gotta teach a horse how to accept a rider. That one looks like it’s never had a person on its back.”

Riona goes to the doorway of the stable so she can watch.

She stands motionless, head slightly tilted, watching Grady try again and again to slip the bridle over the horse’s head. It snaps and bites at him, or slips its head away at the last minute, forcing Grady to swing the horse around again, holding tight to its mane.