She went back to staring at the horse for a moment before turning to look up at him again. “So what work do you have lined out for me today?”

“I think you should spend your last day here with this mare. She needs someone who can understand her, and I think you can. You need to figure out what her story is. What happened to her, what frightens her? She can’t talk, but she’ll eventually answer your questions with her behaviors. Once you understand her, maybe you can help her overcome her fears. For instance, I’ve noticed that she’s afraid whenever I raise a hand toward her head. If I were you, I’d work with her on that first.”

Erin looked alarmed. “I’m the least experienced person with horses on the ranch. I’m not sure it’s a wise choice to have me work with her.”

“I’ll be watching while you’re with her. I honestly don’t think she’ll hurt you. She acts all mean, but it’s mostly bluster. She’s been careful to miss me with her hooves when she acts up.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Wyatt nearly smiled. The last thing he’d ever do was send Erin into a situation where he believed she might get hurt. “If I weren’t fairly certain, I wouldn’t send you in with her.”

“How can I work with her to get her over being afraid to have her head touched?”

He was sorely tempted to map out a plan for Erin, but that wasn’t going to help her. He truly believed animals were the best psychologists on earth. While trying to help the mare, Erin might come to understand herself in ways she had never imagined.

“Just keep trying to touch her head. Think of ways to make it interesting for her. I normally use treats.”

He handed Erin the lead and forced himself to walk away.

* * *

Erin had no idea what to do with this horse. The only thing about equines that was clear in her brain was that she was pretty much scared to death of them. Well, not all of them, but the ones that pranced around and acted as if they wanted to kill her made her want to run. Yet here she was, attached by a lead rope to a mare that was showing the whites of her eyes and looking as terrified as Erin felt. Hello, Mr. Fitzgerald, I don’t even like horses all that much.

She could have walked away. She wanted to, that was for sure. But being challenged to do something was one of her triggers, damn it, and the broken little girl inside of her couldn’t wimp out. The next time Jonas asked Erin who was running her show, she’d tell him a sad and frustrated child was in charge.

Keeping a firm grip on the rope, Erin climbed over the fence and dropped to her feet inside the enclosure. Please, don’t kill me, she mentally pled. Nice horsey. Only the horse backed up as far as the length of lead allowed her to go. Erin took a step forward. The mare went sideways. Erin felt like a teenager trying to do a country line dance with an overlarge partner who didn’t understand the step pattern.