Tacker (Arizona Vengeance 5)

My gaze slides over to the rails of the small paddock we’re in. Raul has one leg propped up on the lower rail while he rests his forearm on the top one. His old straw cowboy hat shades his weathered and wizened face as he watches me work.

“The truth is,” I continue, bringing my eyes to Terrance. I wait a moment until he gives me his attention. “Starlight doesn’t know you any better than you know her. But we need to correct that. So come a little closer.”

Terrance is a city kid, raised poor and in an unstable home environment. He came in this morning, acting tough with a sullen attitude. He had been caught spray-painting graffiti on his high school gym—his second criminal offense—and rather than juvie, he got sent to me.

Which is awesome.

I prefer to take a crack at kids who might have potential, and Judge Beasely sends me the ones she thinks could benefit from my form of equine therapy rather than jail. Kids who go to juvenile detention end up getting lost in the system more often than not, and their rate of returning to crime is extremely high.

“If you’re nervous,” I say gently, “she’ll sense it. She’ll be a bit nervous. So how about we show her some confidence? Lift your head up. Square your shoulders. Project outward that you’re her friend with a simple smile and you just want to get to know her a bit. She’ll sense it and react accordingly.”

What Terrance doesn’t know is that’s a lot of horse shit—no pun intended. Starlight is a sweet, gentle horse that loves everyone. But I like to impart some life wisdom to Terrance when I can, and confidence is important.

Smiling at people… just as important.

Terrance does as I ask, moving toward us. He swallows hard, obviously intimidated by the size of the animal standing next to me. But he also has a healthy dose of sixteen-year-old boy ego in him, and he lifts his chin and presses his shoulders back.

“You can stroke her right here… on her muzzle,” I say, demonstrating by doing so.

The boy hesitates, his Adidas sneakers kicking up a bit of dust as he falters.

“It’s okay,” I urge him. “I promise… she’ll be your friend.”

Terrance looks at me with complete mistrust, and my heart hurts because of that. For whatever he’s gone through, it means he doesn’t know how to give the benefit of the doubt to someone.

It means he doubts his own self-worth and I’m hoping by the time he’s done with this program, that will be a non-issue. It’s surprising what giving a kid a little confidence can do for them.

How empowering it can be.

How it can help them say no to trouble.

“You have no reason to trust me, Terrance. I promise that you won’t get hurt here, but you don’t know me. I get why you can’t trust just yet. So the only way to accomplish this first task—to merely touch this animal—is for you to find something deep in yourself that will let you do it. I believe you have it in you.”

He stares a moment, his expression conflicted. But again, it helps he has a bit of teen swagger within because he stretches his hand out ever so slowly to bridge the distance. While his feet don’t move any closer, he can still reach Starlight’s velvety muzzle and I can’t help but smile when his fingertips graze ever so softly down.

Terrance actually sighs as if the softness of the horse is a pleasant surprise, and his lips curve upward.

“Awesome,” I praise, and he jerks his hand back.

That breaks my heart even more. He’s not used to hearing words of affirmation, so the wall goes back up around him.

Glancing toward Raul, I give a slight jerk of my head, indicating I’m ready for him. He pushes off the rail, ambles over to the gate, and enters the paddock.

“This is Raul,” I say as the old man approaches. “My ranch manager.”

Raul Vargas is the most important person at the ranch. He just turned sixty-seven a few months ago, and his face looks it because of all his years in the sun. But Raul is fit as a fiddle, more spry than most people half his age, and he’s a horse whisperer of extraordinary talent. He’s also my closest friend in the world. A father figure, for sure, but I can talk to him about things I never would have dreamed of talking to my own father about before he’d died.

“Raul’s going to show you how to groom Starlight,” I tell Terrance. “It will get you used to touching her and help her get used to your touch in return. It’s a relationship. Remember that.”

I’m surprised when Terrance murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Not ma’am,” I say affectionately, squeezing his shoulder. “Just Nora.”