down from the garden before he got to the house.
“I came to find out how Addie got the mean out of that horse. I can’t figure it,” he called as he rode up.
“She’s in the barn. Ask her.”
He glanced at the barn, but did not leave. His hat shaded his face.
I squinted up and shielded my eyes against the sun. “How’re you doing, Cole. How’s your leg?”
He dismounted, smoother, more confidently. “Anything changed?”
“No.”
“She still sleeps in the same bed as you?”
I nodded.
“Just checking.” He gave me a long look, his mouth in a grim line. “My leg still gives me some trouble, but it’s healed.” He squared his shoulders and strolled away, his leg stiff as he tried to hide his limp.
When I finished cutting the okra, I joined them in the barnyard.
Addie had led Darling out to him. “She handles real smooth now. Be firm and gentle with her and she’ll do what you want. She’s like new now. Don’t think about what she was.” Addie handed him Darling’s reins.
“I’m ready,” he said softly, his face still and determined, the same expression I’d seen when he showed up at my door months before. He vaulted into the saddle and walked her in a slow, broad circle.
“Take her out,” Addie called. “She’s easy now. Talk sweet to her. Stay loose. Don’t clinch. Don’t pull.”
Cole waved his hat and urged Darling up to a trot along the field.
Addie smiled at me. “He’ll be okay. I talked to her.”
“Talked?”
“Like I do with you only . . .” her lips parted. “Hear anything?”
I heard Becky paw in the barn. Hobo barked a single sharp response from somewhere behind me.
“No. But the horse does. Hobo, too.”
“Feel anything?”
I closed my eyes. The basket of okra I held dug into my hip.
“No.”
“Keep your eyes closed. Now?”
I felt a faint hum in my chest and face. Becky nickered loudly from the barn. I opened my eyes.
Addie winked at me and took my hand, pressing my palm to her sternum. Warmth shimmered up my arm, a barely perceptible tingle. “That’s what I did with Darling before I led her out. So, he’ll be fine.” She nodded toward Cole, who galloped back to us, a wide grin on his face.
I felt a twinge. Would she, like me, find him attractive?
Cole dismounted smoothly. “You musta found some Goody headache powders for horses. She was some kind of headache before. She’s smooth as silk now.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Addie, I wasn’t talking, I was praying. If I hurt my leg again on the same damn horse and couldn’t work, my daddy would shoot the horse and me. You’ve got to show me what you did to get her this way.” It was good to hear him laugh again.
Cole’s questions about our sleeping arrangement bothered me. Although people did not make the assumptions they do today about two women sleeping in the same bed—it truly was the love that dared not speak its name—it seemed logical that he would know, that his intimacy with me, however brief, would make him privy to my desires. We needed his good will, his friendship.
The next time Cole dropped by, I invited him to supper. He sat stiffly at the table, like a boy in church, while I set out the dishes. Addie watched us a moment, then said to Cole, “I’ve got a question for you.” She pointed at the barn. “About Darling. Can I show you? She doesn’t like the bridle we have.”
His posture softened immediately and he turned to her with genuine interest when he heard Darling’s name. She led him out to the barn, both of them talking excitedly about bridles and horses.
After that, they talked horses and went riding whenever they had a chance. At first, I thought he might have been making a play for her, perhaps some ploy to make me jealous, but I soon realized they simply shared a philosophy and an ability to talk nonstop about horses. Gradually, I saw that Cole treated her like she was one of the boys. For him, her skills seemed to override any sexual tensions. Through Cole, others began to hear about Addie’s touch with horses.
The day she went to watch his father break a new horse she came home at dusk, riding Darling. She slammed the door on her way into the house. “I never want to see that again!” she announced, her face dark with outrage, and she marched out again.
She paced the hall until she was calmer, her