Tethered (The Stables Trilogy #2) by Penny Lam

physically. In her months in the stable, particularly since healing from the rattlesnake bite, she’d been getting stronger.
     
    Her shoulders had more definition, and she could fit two fingers into the gap between her waist and the waist of her jeans. Her hips, though, were another story. Apparently working hard made her hips and ass grow, muscled as well as curved.
     
    Great.
     
    The new muscles made working a little smoother, but not easier. Especially when she was switching out the horses’ beds. She shoveled large pitchforks of dirty hay into her wheelbarrow, and struggled to listen to the vet and J.B. in the other stall.
     
    All she heard were the low muffled tones of the vet and J.B.’s Marlboro Man rasp.
     
    She was finishing up Mesa’s stall when J.B. came in behind her.
     
    “Whelp,” he said as he grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow to push it out for her. “You were right to say somethin’.”
     
    She was hovering now on the edge of being crushed. “What’s wrong with her?”
     
    “She’s dyin’, Maple. Old age.”
     
    It truly shouldn’t have been a surprise. Bonnie had been old when she started. What did Maple think all the rides were going to do to that tired, loving horse?
     
    J.B.’s hand gripped her shoulder. Warmth from his palm warmed bones that felt hollow. It grounded her.
     
    She hadn’t even been aware of how numb she was.
     
    “I can already see you doing it, Maple. Stop.” His mouth was a thin line.
     
    “Doing what?”
     
    “Blaming yourself.”
     
    “I’m not--” She knew she shouldn’t be. It wasn’t like she had control over time. Aging was going to happen whether Maple wished it to or not. Knowing that he was right didn’t ease the onslaught of anger she felt at herself. “I’m not.” She was, but she didn’t want to talk about it.
     
    His face softened. “Tell me what you need.” It was a command. Even in this, J.B. didn’t know how to offer his help.
     
    “Nothing, I’m fine.”
     
    “Look, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to keep workin’ this stable. Don’t worry about the other one.”
     
    “But--”
     
    “Don’t argue, Maple.” A hint of threat. She clamped her mouth shut. “Look, we’ll do a crash course if we need to. But I want you here, with Bonnie.”
     
    It was a gift, and she knew it. Maple didn’t get many gifts. Certainly not a gesture like this. She tried not to think too much on what it meant.
     
    All her brain wanted to do was dissect it.
     
    “But-- and this is important, Maple -- when it looks like Bonnie’s on her way out, move her out to pasture.”
     
    Wait, what? Her face scrunched. “It’s winter, J.B., I thought ‘put to pasture’ was just a phrase.”
     
    “It’s a phrase rooted in practicality, Maple. Have you ever seen anything die?”
     
    He obviously meant animals. It didn’t stop her eyes from flaring wide. The man’s face flashed through her thoughts. The blood that trickled from his mouth and nose. The awful, wet sound of his breathing. She’d seen someone on the way to death.
     
    For having grown up on a ranch, though, Maple was oddly sheltered when it came to the animals dying. Her father wasn’t set up for slaughter; he sold his steer live. On the off chance that one got sick or old before they were sold off, he’d depart with a shotgun and call a local company to pick up the body.
     
    “I’ve never seen a horse die,” she whispered. Maple couldn’t look J.B. in the eye. Loss had started as a seed deep within her, but now it was blooming.
     
    “Well, most likely Bonnie’ll just go off in her sleep. But she’ll need to be out of the stable when it happens. Now, go and grab some blankets and whatever you need to stay out here. Because I reckon that’s what you wanna do. Get set up with Bonnie, and I’ll have Mariela bring you out something hot to eat.”
     
    It sounded like kindness. The words were there. The comforting hand on her shoulder. J.B. was