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WITH THE EGG basket draped over her arm, Susannah stood at the entrance to the barn and peered inside. The rain had stopped for good, and the sun was now hot and bright slanting through the cracks in the old wood siding. “Boone, are you in here?”
“Out here,” he answered. “Come on through the barn and out to the paddock.”
She walked down the wide aisle, her footsteps kicking up bits of dust and straw. The barn was old but tidy. She expected to wrinkle her nose at smells every bit as offensive as the odors that had clung to her yesterday. But no. She only sniffed leather tack, fresh straw and the fertile scent of grains. Boone had obviously finished cleaning the stalls and replaced the soiled hay with new.
Coming into the open again, she saw Boone leaning against a weathered, wooden fence. One booted foot was on the bottom rail. His arms were crossed on the top. The felt cowboy hat remained low on his forehead. He turned when he heard her approach. “How’d you do with those eggs?” he asked.
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