This Red Rock Read Free Page B

Blaydon
    16
    and finding that I had completely disregarded his
    suggestions—never orders, but genuine attempts to help—
    was too cringe-inducing to tolerate. Oro of the open smile
    and honey-bronze beauty, I could not disappoint.
    Fortified by this decision, I resettled my shovel in my
    hands, squared my jaw in what I hoped was a manly
    fashion, and turned back toward the stalls. I would show
    them, Frank and Oro both. When Oro returned to check, this
    place would be spotless.
    In any event, “spotless” proved to be something of an
    overambitious goal. A better description of the row of stalls,
    after I"d had my vigorous way with them, might have been
    “ravaged,” or perhaps “incompetently scalped.” (Hey, when in
    the ol" Wild West, right?) I"d managed to dispose of the
    contents of four of the stalls, shoveling the majority of the
    straw and dung out into the wheelbarrow, and subsequently
    tossing it on the small mountain behind the building.
    Unsurprisingly, that hadn"t been too hard to find. The guys
    used it for fertilizer, so it was depleted pretty much on a
    daily basis, but even when it was mostly gone, the smell
    could have guided any beginner toward the correct spot. By
    the time I was done, manwas it plentiful. I had no idea that
    horses could shit so much, or that it could be so freakin"
    heavy.Still, I was running on a potent mixture of adrenaline
    and anxiety, so the “heavy” factor slipped my concern fairly
    early in the game. The only problem was that there always
    seemed to be just a few more stalls , right when I thought I
    must be nearing the end. By the end of the fourth stall, I no
    longer had any concept of the passing of time. There was just
    me, aching and filthy with sweat and muck and dust, and
    the insurmountable, endless task before me. Oh, I was doing
    This Red Rock | Louise Blaydon
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    it well enough, I was pretty sure, but it looked to me like it
    could conceivably go on forever. And I didn"t want to spend
    forever smelling like horse shit.
    I had paused for a breather, forearm resting on the
    handle of my shovel as I surveyed my temporary domain,
    when he came back. Oro: a series of soft-fallen steps through
    the straw, and a smile I could feel. I knew he was there
    almost before I even heard him, and the hairs on my nape, I
    swear to God, stood up. Oh, man.
    I"ve never really liked having people stand behind me. It
    makes me uncomfortable, like I can feel every inch of space
    between my skin and theirs, and it makes my flesh creep.
    The muscles of my back were all ready to clench up in self-
    defense as Oro approached, but he didn"t stop behind me,
    although he brushed past close enough that his forearm
    touched my shirt. He settled himself, instead, slightly to the
    left of me, on the side where the shovel wasn"t. And then, for
    a long, long moment, he just looked.
    I have to admit, I was looking, too. Not at the stalls,
    which so occupied Oro"s attention, but at him, my forehead
    practically touching my sweat-damp arm on the shovel"s
    handle, face turned sideways, ostensibly at rest, but really
    just to take him in. He had his hands in his pockets, casual,
    collected; his elbows turned out loosely, the muscles in his
    arms swelling gently under the skin. He still had his hat
    neatly, jauntily in place, but there was sweat, now, licking
    the hollow of his throat, touching his clavicle within the
    opened collar of his shirt. The lines of his profile were as
    clean-cut and sharp as the rest of him, his face dark and
    fine like a toreador"s, his black eyes watchful. He smelled:
    warm , working-man warm, musky and human, fresh sweat
    This Red Rock | Louise Blaydon
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    and honest toil. The scent of him pricked my nostrils,
    resonated between my legs. Abruptly, I turned my face away
    and waited.
    “Done pretty good here,” he said, when the long moment
    finally drew to an end. His smile, when he turned it toward
    me, was unclouded and clean. He was so clean; I don"t know
    why I