“It’s okay, baby girl,” Erin said. Speaking was a mistake. The poor horse flinched as if a high-powered rifle had just gone off and reared up, striking the air within a foot of Erin’s face. It scared her so badly that she almost wet her pants. Then her common sense kicked in. If the mare had wanted to make contact, she could have. She was only frightened and trying to warn Erin away. “You’re so scared. It’s okay to be scared sometimes. All of us are. And if it’s any comfort, I’m as afraid of you as you are of me.”

Erin had no treats for the horse, so she tied her off to the fence, vaulted over the barrier, and ran to the bunkhouse. Kennedy sat at the table, hunched over a textbook. He glanced up. “Where’s the fire?”

Erin went to the cupboards and began opening them. “I need horse treats. Wyatt assigned me to that new horse, the one that’s afraid to be touched.”

“Oh, fun. Good luck with that.” He closed his book. “They like carrots and apples. If you’re doing treat rewards, you just cut them up in small pieces and carry them around in sandwich bags.” He opened the fridge. “You’re in luck. Wyatt’s gone shopping.” He pulled out a large bag of carrots and tossed it on the counter. “We’ve got apples, too.”

While he dug out apples from a vegetable drawer so stuffed it could have fed a third-world country, Erin began running water over one carrot and went to find the vegetable peeler. Kennedy studied her for a moment after putting four apples on the Formica surface. “Um, Erin. It’s a horse.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’d get at least six carrots, and it’s fine to rinse them and cut off the ends, but you don’t need to peel them. The skins have a heap of nutrients.”

Erin wrinkled her nose. “The skins have ground-in dirt.”

“Yep. Like I said, lots of nutrients.”

She gave him a long study. “Please don’t tell me you cook with unpeeled carrots and ground-in dirt as a flavor enhancer.”

Kennedy laughed. “I scrub them clean with a vegetable brush first. If a tiny bit of dirt gets past me, I don’t worry about it.”

Following Kennedy’s advice, Erin trimmed the butts off the carrots, made sure they were well rinsed, and then began to dice one up.

“Erin, it’s a horse.”

Pausing with the knife poised in midair, Erin said, “If you remind me one more time that it’s a horse, I’m going to say, ‘No kidding. I thought it was a pig.’”

“Yeah, well, horses don’t do diced stuff. They like big chunks. How would you feel if your treat for being good was the size of a BB?”

“Around here, I’d be so surprised I might faint if someone gave me even a BB-size treat for doing well.”

Kennedy’s smile faded. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry you’re having a rough time adjusting to ranch life.”