Dark Horse by Honey Brown Page B

today.’
    ‘Yeah, we should.’
    Last joint tightened, all rails in place, their hunger won out and it was decided – they deserved something good after their hard work. It was well into the afternoon. Sarah’s stomach was rumbling. Heath held out his hand and showed her how it was shaking.
    ‘The workmen’s food will be our serious supplies,’ Sarah said.
    Knowing they were going to eat well was enough to stave off the hunger pains for a while. They finished up and cleared away. Heath put the poles he hadn’t used against the back wall of the shed. Sarah made benches out of blocks of wood and the leftover planks to house her saddle and to keep other important items up off the floor. Heath walked out front and looked at his handiwork from different angles, critically eyeing the lines of the yard. He pushed the railing with both hands, his weight behind it. It didn’t move.
    ‘Heath, it’s excellent.’
    ‘. . . I dunno . . .’
    ‘Are you kidding me? Look at it.’
    Half of the permanent yards Sarah had seen in her day weren’t as well built. She liked how clean and unfussy it was. The timber and firewood fence inside the shed was messy, but that at least had the benefit of making the undercover part seem rustic and homely.
    He pinched his nose and rubbed it. ‘It’s only as good as its weakest point. The gate and the fence inside the shed aren’t right . . .’
    ‘At least that section is out of the weather, we can fix it up and work on it anytime. This outside part was the most important to get done, in case it rains again . . . So, are we ready for her?’
    ‘I think we are.’
    Tansy had matured over the last twenty-four hours. Sarah could see it and feel it in her horse. Whereas the old Tansy would have spent all day pulling on the tether, pawing with disgust at the waterlogged lengths of grass, the new Tansy had grazed as best she could and now stood patiently in the fog. The mare sensed the need for a different mode. She was conserving energy. And perhaps, too, blinkered by the mist, subdued.
    Heath’s scent was on Sarah and in her clothes. Tansy nudged Sarah’s shoulder and snuffed at the sleeve of her coat. ‘It’s okay,’ Sarah said softly to her mare. ‘We’ve built you a nice open stable.’ She stroked and patted the side of Tansy’s face. ‘No head tossing, okay?’
    Heath was standing beside the stable entrance. He had slid the makeshift door – a single rail – open. His back was turned and his hands were busy picking dry mud off his palms.
    This casual stance revealed that he’d told the truth about one thing: he’d been around horses before. Compared to the way he’d acted when first encountering Tansy, this showed some nous. He remained facing away. He kept looking down at his hands as he rubbed and brushed at the dry mud. Tansy’s ears craned forward, and Sarah could feel a change occur in her mare. The horse went from indignant to interested in a heartbeat. She stopped and held her head high to look at Heath. With his attention focused inward, it drew her to him, and the mare leaned his way. He bent forward to check the bandage on his knee, fiddled with it, and Tansy leaned in further. When he didn’t glance at her, she got impatient and whinnied.
    Sarah led her towards the entranceway. ‘Come on. He’s ignoring you on purpose – it’s the oldest trick in the book.’
    When he still didn’t turn, Tansy did what any well-mannered horse wouldn’t do – she reared up, landed light-footed on her front legs, and kicked out her hindquarters, not frightened, flaunting her agility.
    Face turned away, Heath smiled. Sarah heard him breathe out softly, amused. ‘She’s beautiful.’
    ‘I was thinking she might have matured. Now I’m not so sure.’
    Heath rested against the wooden railing and looked into the empty stable. He propped his elbows on the top rail as though he had all day to ponder the vacant yard. Over his shoulder he said, ‘Did you name