Read Immortal Mine for Free Online

Mr . Coleman, if our
stables aren’t to yer likin’,” she says, trying to sound like a
backwoods country bumpkin—and doing a poor job of it, I might add.
I’ve lived among people in the most backwoods of places, and she
isn’t even close in her impression. I throw a look her way, trying
to let her know how poor her impression is, and turn toward the
open stable door.
    “That’s not what I meant,” I say as I walk
away. It seems that whatever I say to Miss Parker, she takes
offense.
    She follows me out as I disappear into the
trailer. I grab the Irish by the lead rope and he immediately rears
back. The first stallion is my own; this one is new. Today is the
first day I’ve set eyes on him. He’s large, shiny black without an
ounce of any other color on him—with the exception of pure white
coronets near each hoof. He is magnificent.
    I lead him out of the trailer with as much
gentle persuasion as possible, to find Niahm peering around the
corner, interest lighting her face. It’s a look I haven’t seen on
her face before, and it completely transforms her. The horse rears
up, front legs pawing the air in fright. My attention diverted, I
give the Irish a little lead, but not too much. Niahm takes a quick
step back.
    She hurries into the barn, standing behind
the stall door, ready to close it as soon as I get the beast
inside. Smart girl. With a little work, and a lot of coaxing, I
finally lead the stallion in. The horse’s eyes are rolling, but I’m
able to sooth him just enough.
    Once the stallion is in the stall, Niahm
pushes the door closed, trapping me within—exactly what she should
do. I unclip the lead, backing toward the stall door, not looking,
trusting her to open it. Once I’m out of the stall, I smile
triumphantly in Niahm’s direction—and to my surprise, she smiles
back, sharing in my victory. Suddenly, the faux intimacy of the
moment strikes us both, and she turns away.
    “What kind of horse is that? I don’t
recognize it,” she asks.
    “He’s an Irish Draught. Striking, isn’t
he?”
    “He’s absolutely gorgeous. I’ve never seen
anything like him.”
    “I’m glad you like him ,” I
say . She doesn’t comment on that statement.
    “What’s his name?” she asks.
    “He doesn’t actually have one yet. He’s new,
not even green broke yet.”
    “That would explain the tantrum. You have
someone coming to break him?”
    “Yeah, me.”
    “You?” Surprise laces her tone.
    “What, you don’t think I can break a horse?”
I throw her words back at her, though in a less harsh tone than she
used on me.
    She looks thoughtful, as if the question
bears scrutiny.
    “Actually, I believe you can.”
    I freeze in the act of hanging the lead,
turning her way.
    “What? Was that an actual compliment from the inimitable Niahm Parker?”
    I can see her narrowing her eyes at me even
through the sunglasses as she turns away, refusing to answer. I
follow her from the stable.
    “My uncle said to let you know that we’ll
only be keeping them here until we can get the barn rebuilt on our
own property.”
    “Oh.” Her response is almost—wistful. “Well,
while they’re here, you can come over anytime. The stable is never
locked.” She points to her left. “There’s a paddock over there that
you are welcome to use. If you let them through the gate just over
there,” she points again, “they can graze in there. The tack room
is right there,” she thumbs over her shoulder.
    “Sounds good,” I say, watching her closely.
I’m impressed by her professionalism.
    “I’ll feed and water them, but I won’t muck
your stalls.”
    I laugh at her overly fervent tone.
    “Gotcha.”
    Her shoulders drop, as if relenting. “That’s
not necessarily the complete truth. If you’re going to be out of
town, or just can’t get over for some reason, just call. One of us
will do it.”
    “One of us?”
    “Me or, if they’re around, one of my
parents.”
    “Oh. Are they here? I’d like to meet