Page 23 of Savage Heart

“Okay,” Iris says.

“All right. Should we get started feeding the horses?” I ask Linc.

“Yes!” He gets excited again.

We walk toward the paddock, dust puffing beneath our boots. The sun makes Thunder’s coat look dark as midnight.

Linc breathes out, awestruck. “He’s beautiful.”

“He knows it,” I say dryly.

Thunder lifts his head, recognizing me, then ambles over with the lazy swagger of a horse who knows exactly where he stands. And then Copper trots over and reaches Linc before Thunder.

Linc barely blinks. “Can I pet him too?”

I’m choked up when I say, “Yeah. Let him come to you.”

Copper walks right up, sniffs Linc’s hair, and snorts in excitement. Then he drops his head so the boy can reach his forehead. Linc strokes him slowly, reverently.

“I’m so excited to see you,” he whispers.

I swallow hard.

“Copper was your dad’s horse,” I say quietly.

It’s not long before Iris steps out of the office across the yard—done with paperwork—and pauses when she sees her son petting Copper.

Her eyes widen, and her lips part.

Something raw flickers across her face.

It’s jarring, because it’s been a long time since I’ve seen much emotion from Iris. Whatever she’s feeling, if she’s feeling anything, she keeps bottled up tightly.

But she feels this, and so do I.

Every time Linc has been on the ranch, he’s been drawn to Copper. And the horse feels the same way.

When Linc hears his mom, he spins around. “Mom! Did you know Copper was Dad’s horse? He likes me!”

“He sure does,” she says softly. Her gaze shifts to me, and her voice cracks when she speaks. “Thank you for showing him around and for doing all this.”

I nod. “He should be done feeding in about an hour and a half, but he’s welcome to stay longer.”

“Can I, Mom?” Linc asks. “Please?”

Iris hesitates, trying to figure me out. “If you’re really sure,” she finally says. “I could come get him on my break.”

“Or your lunch, if that’s best,” I say briskly.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “Okay. Yeah, I could do that.” She looks at Linc. “Just call me if you need me to come get you sooner.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t worry,” he says, grinning.

She steps forward and pulls him to her. It’s impossible to look away. Seeing Iris as a mom is strange. It still feels new because I see so little of them, and it’s usually from a distance.

She still moves the same. Graceful. She was smart and funny and always seemed so comfortable in her skin. All the girls at school were worried about what they wore, or what their hair looked like . . . what they ate. Iris didn’t have even half the clothes they did, and she hardly bothered to do her hair. She looked good without even trying.

She seemed like the most independent person I knew.