LITMIR.BIZ

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over to her then, keeping an eye on the children the whole time. “Hey,” he said. “Wondered if you were ever going to get up.”

      “My days and nights are still a little messed up,” she commented. “You were out here already when I dragged my sorry butt out of bed. It was a pretty cozy nest I had going on.”

      His gaze fell on her and she tried to ignore the warm buzz of awareness that ran through her.

      “They do all that themselves?” she asked.

      He grinned easily and she realized he was quite different out here in his element. More relaxed, less of a chip on his shoulder. He moved his attention from her and nodded in the direction of the children. “They do now. Not at first, though. Both Jennie and Riley are autistic. It took quite some time for us to get them to this point.”

      “I wondered. They look like normal kids.”

      He frowned. “They are normal kids.”

      Oh, she’d hit a nerve, she realized. Quite unintentionally, but she probably should have chosen her words better. “What I meant to say is they don’t have a visible disability.”

      “I know what you meant. It’s a bit of a battle, though. Drawing the line between normal and abnormal is what can make it so hard for these kids, you know? It really shouldn’t matter what challenges they have. They have feelings like anyone else.”

      There was a sharpness to his tone that made her look up. The line of his jaw was firm and, if her guess was right, defensive. “Of course they do. I never meant to imply otherwise.”

      “I find it hard to take off my crusader’s hat at times.”

      She wondered if that was because at one time he had been one of those kids. Had he been teased, picked on? Had there been more to his injury than facial deformity? She wasn’t any stranger to that either. She’d been a head taller than every other kid in her class from an early age. The names “Beanpole” and “Spider Legs” had hung on for years. Her prom date had been two inches shorter than her, and she’d worn plain flats when all her friends had on heels. Her own father had called her Stringbean.

      It was a far cry from a disability, but the teasing had hurt just the same, making her sensitive to the situation of both Blake and his clients. Even now she had to remind herself to stand up straight, rather than slump in an attempt to conceal her height.

      “Don’t apologize for being passionate about what you do. You’re clearly good at it,” she said gently.

      She bit back her questions about why he’d become that crusader. Even if she did want to know more about him, now was not the time or place. Any answer she got would be short and unsatisfactory.

      He leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching as the little girl returned from the tack room with a bucket of brushes and began grooming her mount.

      “Why don’t you tell me a little about them?”

      The question seemed to satisfy him, and the harsh expression melted away as he watched the duo closely.

      “Well,” he said, affection warming his voice, “take Jennie, there. I put her on Minstrel and Riley on Pokey from the beginning, because the gelding and mare are gentle and work well together. That’s important when there’s more than one rider involved. We couldn’t actually put them together at first. It took a lot of work. But they have similar issues and are a similar age. By pairing them up it’s not just the two horses that work well with the riders, but the riders work together, too.”

      “They clearly like you,” she added. Blake was quite easy to like, after all—at least in this setting. Easier than she was comfortable with. “The way Jennie smiled at you out there...”

      “She’s something, isn’t she?” He grinned as he watched the youngsters work. “At the beginning she nearly froze in the saddle and didn’t say a word. I had to walk Minstrel around the ring while her mom stayed alongside. Finally she started taking the reins herself, but her mom was always right there. Now Heather watches from the sidelines. Seeing Jennie that comfortable and confident—well, that’s what this program is all about.”

      His easy speech took Hope by surprise. In the two days she’d been here he hadn’t ever said so much, and so freely. “Is it always just you? It must be a lot of work running this by yourself.”

      “Oh, no. Jennie and Riley are at a point now where I don’t need extra staff or therapists for their sessions. We have to look at the individual child’s needs. Safety is the first priority.”

      Hope looked up at Blake again, examined the dark scar running down his face. Julie had needed someone like Blake. Julie—who’d cried pitifully and without tears when she’d realized her career was over. When she’d understood that she’d never be beautiful again. Hope’s throat swelled and she found it hard to swallow. Julie had realized that she’d never get married, have children, be a grandmother. Seeing a person’s face when they understood they were going to die was a terrible, terrible thing.

      She turned her attention to Riley for a moment as she pulled herself together. He wasn’t smiling, and his tongue was between his teeth as he ran a brush over Pokey’s hide. “Riley looks tense.”

      “Riley’s very precise. He likes things a certain way, and it’s easy for him to get overwhelmed. Riding’s only part of it. Right now they’re grooming. Once they put the horses back in their stalls they’ll make sure they have fresh water and a little treat.”

      “Really?”

      He nodded. “Jennie and Riley both have autism but they’re very highly functioning. It works putting them together because they both get overwhelmed and stressed very easily, and frustrated when they can’t communicate. Riding is soothing—the gait is very rhythmic and calming—and working with the horses is tactile. And by having to care for them they are practicing making connections, you know? That’s so important.”

      “Mister Blake!” Riley came running up. “Mom brought carrots for Pokey.”

      Blake smiled at the boy and nodded. “When he’s brushed, you can give him one.”

      Riley looked over at Jennie. “Maybe Jennie would like one for Mist...Mist...”

      “For Minstrel? Why don’t you ask her?”

      They watched curiously as Riley hesitantly approached Jennie.

      Jennie nodded at Riley, her ponytail flopping, and Blake smiled. “I’ll be...” he murmured. “They don’t talk to each other much. Mostly to the horses. It’s a big thing that Riley went to her just now. Look.”

      Riley’s mom gave him two carrots, and he promptly took one to Jennie. “Not ’til they’re all brushed,” Riley instructed.

      Jennie nodded solemnly and tucked the treat into her jacket. Blake laughed as Minstrel nudged at Jennie’s pocket. “Not yet,” she chided the horse. “Soon.”

      “You’re not taking any pictures,” he noted, keeping an eye on the kids but confident things were well in hand.

      Truth be told Hope had forgotten about her camera. Her interest had been captured by the workings of the place and talking to Blake. “I got a few of the barn while you were in the ring.”

      He wrinkled his brow. “None of the session? There’s no problem with having our kids in the photos.”

      She looked past him when she answered. “If you’re going to use the pictures for promotion you’d have to get all the parents to sign a release. This way is just easier.”

      Jennie came over. “I’m done. Can I put Minstrel in his stall now?”

      Blake laughed. “That carrot burning a hole in your pocket?”

      Jennie looked puzzled as she took his joke literally and didn’t understand, so he turned to Hope. “Hope, this is Jennie. Jennie, this is Hope. Hope takes pictures, Jennie. She’s

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