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bone in her body.”

      “I’m not doing an interview. I thought I’d made that clear.”

      “Well, don’t punish Violet because you’re mad at me. Please.” It wasn’t like Ruby to beg, but she felt like it was the only thing that might change his mind.

      “I’d have to care about you to be mad at you,” he said. His words sent a chill through Ruby that she hadn’t felt in a long time. They stared wordlessly at one another for a full thirty seconds before he continued his retreat to wherever he planned to hide from the world he was so sure was out to get him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

      BOONE HAD HIS mind made up about Ruby Wynn. The woman was nothing but trouble. She pushed his buttons and flashed him those smiles. He never knew which way was up with her, and he didn’t have the energy to figure it out.

      “Boone, I need your help,” Jesse said as he knocked on the door of the Airstream. “I promise the coast is clear.”

      Boone was still on the fence about Jesse. He seemed like a nice guy, but he wanted inside Boone’s head for sure. The man could have all the good intentions in the world; it didn’t mean he would be good at actually helping Boone through this struggle.

      Boone pushed the door open. “I’m a little busy. You sure you need my help?”

      “Busy hiding in the trailer? Come on. We need to get a stall ready for a new horse. Faith went to pick it up, and I told her we’d be ready when she got back.”

      “Don’t you have volunteers for this kind of stuff?”

      “You are a volunteer. Wasn’t that the point of you coming here? Do some work, clear your head? Nothing clears a head like physical labor. Here...” Jesse tossed him a pair of work gloves. “You’ll need these.”

      Boone stepped back inside and grabbed his hat. Jesse didn’t appear to be a man who took no for an answer. As they walked to the barn, Boone noticed Ruby’s car was gone, along with her friend’s. They probably left right away when they didn’t get what they came for. Everyone wanted a piece of him. He didn’t know why he’d thought Ruby was any different.

      “Let’s sweep this stall out before we lay down some fresh straw,” Jesse said, handing Boone a broom.

      Jesse did all the talking as they got to work. He shared information about the new horse and how excited he was to train it with Faith’s help. Jesse clearly had a passion for the animals.

      “How exactly did you become a social-worker-slash-riding-instructor-slash-horse-trainer? I didn’t know there were colleges giving away degrees in that.”

      Jesse stopped working and rested both hands on the top of the broom handle. “Well, I grew up with horses. We had a ranch about forty miles from here. I loved it. I think horses are the most amazing animals on the planet.”

      Boone kept sweeping as his curiosity got the best of him. “So why get a degree in social work?”

      “That story’s a little bit more complicated. Did you notice I said we had a horse ranch? My dad was a good man, but he had a gambling addiction. It cost him and my mother everything they had spent their lives working for. The bank foreclosed on the ranch on my sixteenth birthday. All the money I thought my parents had put away for me to go to college was gone. We had to move in with my grandparents. My parents split about a year later.”

      Boone froze. He wasn’t expecting Jesse to share something so personal.

      “Ever since then, I’ve been fascinated by the power of addiction,” Jesse explained. “How could a decent man who loved his family let his life fall apart? How did betting on a horse race or a football game become more important than putting food on the table? My father would tell you it wasn’t more important, but he couldn’t stop himself. Losing was painful, but when he won, he claimed there was no feeling like it. He had to chase it. That’s how I fell into social work.”

      The weight of his own shame made Boone weak in the knees. He leaned against the wall for support. Somewhere along the line in his life, alcohol had become more important than everything else—his marriage, his career, his daughter. It wasn’t more important, but Boone couldn’t stop. His body literally craved it, even after all these months of sobriety.

      Jesse pushed his broom around. “Thanks to scholarships, loans and working any job I could get, I managed to pay my way through college and graduate school. I learned everything I could about addiction and treatment. I believe that people can overcome their addictions with the right tools and a lot of determination. I tried to convince my dad to get help, but he was too stubborn and proud. Three months before I graduated with my master’s degree, he died, carrying more debt than I had at the time.”

      “That’s quite a story,” Boone said.

      “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, my mom used to say.”

      “It’s like this place was made for you.”

      “That’s exactly how I feel.” Jesse smiled, and the wrinkles around his eyes appeared. “I like to imagine my dad had something to do with it. I think he’d be happy to see me doing something I love while helping people like him at the same time.”

      “You think you can help someone like me?” Boone asked, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

      “I can help anyone who wants it badly enough and is willing to work hard. There’s no miracle cure for addiction. It’s not easy, and you have to be willing to fight it the rest of your life. Some people have the strength to do that and some don’t.”

      This wasn’t a new message. No one ever gave Boone any guarantees. All the doctors and counselors liked to remind him that he was in control of his treatment. Jesse was the first one to make him almost believe it.

      “I might be a lost cause.”

      Jesse pressed his lips together while he seemed to consider that self-assessment. “If that’s what you truly believe, then what are you doing here mucking stalls with me?”

      It was an excellent question. Boone didn’t want to die with a million regrets. He wanted his daughter to answer the phone when he called. He wanted to shake the feeling that everyone was waiting for him to fail. “I don’t want to be one.”

      Jesse put a hand on Boone’s shoulder. “Then you don’t have to be.”

      * * *

      THE TWO MEN had the stall ready to go when Faith returned home with the newest member of the Helping Hooves family. The blue roan filly was a beauty. Her head was dark like her mane and tail, but her body was a bluish gray.

      “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Faith asked once she’d backed her out of the trailer. She tried to lead her toward the barn. The horse had other ideas. She wasn’t going anywhere.

      Jesse snickered at her struggle. “She’s got a little stubborn streak, huh?”

      Faith had the patience of a saint. She stayed calm and encouraged the horse to come along. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, but she’s going to be something special. I know it.”

      “What’s her name?” Boone asked.

      “They called her Willow.”

      Boone stepped closer, and Willow pulled on her lead to back away. “Hey there, sweet Willow,” he said, running a hand down the side of her neck to calm her. “You are a pretty girl, aren’t you?”

      “You want to try?” Faith asked, offering him the lead.

      Boone took the rope and kept talking to the horse. She seemed to like his attention and took a step forward when he moved toward the barn.

      “Well, look at that. I think we have ourselves a horse whisperer,” Jesse said to Faith.

      “Or

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