His full mouth tipped into a crooked and purely devastating grin. “It’s her poll, Erin, not the crown of her head.”

“Oh.” Erin thought about that. “Why make it complicated by calling it a poll?”

His smile broadened, creasing his lean cheeks to form parenthetical brackets around his mouth. “Because it isn’t really the crown of a horse’s head. It’s technically the base of its skull. I’ve never researched why it’s called a poll when it’s actually an occipital protrusion, but I don’t argue the point. Poll is a lot easier to say, and since it’s important when we’re riding, we say it a lot.”

“How is it important during riding?”

“We’ll get to that if you end up staying. If not, it’s a bunch of information you don’t really need. I’m more interested in your take on the mare.”

“My take is that she’s been horribly mistreated. She tried not to flinch when I touched her poll, but the fright reaction has been ingrained so deeply I think it’s a mindless response. To overcome it, she’ll have to learn to trust me and then make herself react differently. But that will take time.”

Wyatt nodded. “A lot of time, and I got the same impression from her.” His smile diminished to a slight curve of his lips. “So what did you learn about yourself as you worked with her today?”

The question came out of left field, and Erin gave him a bewildered look.

“You don’t need to answer,” he told her. “But I hope you’ll think about it.”

He swung off the log and stood, looking down at her. “Ready to head back?”

Erin got to her feet. “I can’t believe it. We finally talked down here without being ugly to each other.”

He fell into step beside her. “Will wonders never cease?”

* * *

Erin had a cup of decaf with Uncle Slade and Aunt Vickie before she went upstairs to shower and rest. Vickie served a plate of the chocolate chip cookies that she’d made the night before, and Erin, unable to resist them, ate five. Uncle Slade didn’t seem upset with Erin, which eased her mind, and she was no longer upset with him. With time to think about it, she understood why he’d appointed Wyatt to do the dirty work for him in regards to firing her, and it certainly hadn’t stemmed from a lack of courage. Her uncle loved her and simply hadn’t wanted to be the bad guy. He’d been trying to preserve their relationship.

As Erin went upstairs, she felt differently than she had that morning, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason. Maybe, she decided, it was all a matter of perspective, and hers had changed over the course of the day.

When she climbed into bed and snuggled under the down comforter, she recalled Wyatt’s question. How could she possibly learn anything about herself by working with an abused horse? She had never been physically abused as a kid. She had to give her dad credit for that much, even though he’d hurt her in dozens of other ways.