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Maxwell shrugged but shook his head slightly. “Not from what Weston told me. He picked Nutmeg and Echo up at an auction last spring. The mare settled in pretty well, but Echo? He hasn’t been able to win her trust.”

Eryn studied the head wrangler and how he worked with the young horse. “He’s patient.”

“He is.” Maxwell chuckled softly. “Way more than I could ever be. At least two-by-fours and tiles and cans of paint can’t get it in their heads that they don’t want to do what you bought them for.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve always worked with people. My boss at Debby’s was demanding, and the other workers and the diners weren’t always kind. It wears on a person.”

Maxwell gestured to Weston. “You should have seen my cousin back at the beginning. He’s quiet and gruff now, but he was downright angry all the time then… except with the horses. He’s always had all the patience in the world with them. People? Not so much.”

Eryn was beginning to think she should have been in a different line of work all along. Maybe the gift shop would be a good fit for that. Less peopley, at least in the offseason. But there wasn’t really any solo job at Sweet River, except maybe Dad’s.

“You seem to like being around people, though.” At least, he worked with a crew, and he wouldn’t be in that sort of business if he hated them. Right?

“Some of them.” The lines around Maxwell’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “If they want to hustle and work as a team, we get along great. If they’re too independent or too lazy — if they don’t seem able to follow orders or own their mistakes — they usually don’t last too long working for me.”

Was there a warning in that? Eryn wasn’t sure if she had that kind of independent streak or not. She’d never pushed the limits but gone along with expectations. Amelia had prodded enough for them both, and maybe Eryn had simply tried to form a counterbalance.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d done herself a disservice by not rocking the boat and figuring out who she really was and what she wanted to do with her life. Amelia had spent her whole life trying to prove she wasn’t the same as Eryn. Eryn had spent her life trying to prove she was a nice person, even if her sister wasn’t.

Had she needed to show that to anyone? Maybe she could have lived it out by being herself.

Maxwell rose and stretched his hand to her. “Come on. I want you to meet Echo.”

Eryn’s startled gaze met his. “You brought me here to meet a horse?”

“I did.” He grinned. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. I guess.” She stood and accepted his hand as she jumped off the cart.

Made him feel like a hero from an old western helping a genteel lady off a stagecoach. Maxwell scoffed lightly under his breath. Wrong millennium, Sullivan.

She was no pampered debutante. She was far, far more self-sufficient. Thank the Lord for all the changes in women’s rights since those old days. The women on his crew did all the same jobs the guys did.

Eryn let go of his grip, approached the corral slowly, and leaned her arms on the top rail, watching Echo.

Maxwell’s hand felt empty without hers in it. He followed her and mimicked her stance, his shoulder pressed against hers. “What do you think of her?”

“I’m not sure why it matters?”

He hesitated, searching her face. “There are dozens of other horses, so Weston and Darrell don’t have all the time Echo needs.”

Her gaze narrowed. “And you think I have time? I know nothing about horses!”

Had Maxwell misjudged her? “You have more time than they have, but if you aren’t interested in hanging out with her, you certainly don’t have to.” He shifted so he wasn’t touching her and forced his gaze back to the filly.

Weston glanced toward the visitors, eyebrows raised. He had Echo circling on the longe line, more slowly now.

How to answer the unspoken question? But Maxwell wouldn’t give up on Eryn so easily. He’d probably bungled the question. He gave a slight nod to his cousin.

Weston waited for Echo to slow to a walk and complete the circuit a couple of more times as he slowly shortened the line, reeling the filly closer and closer until he hooked his fingers on the halter strap. Echo pulled back, eyes wide, and Weston spoke soothingly to her, too quietly for Maxwell to pick out more than the tone.

“We think she was mistreated at the other place. Or maybe only neglected, as if that’s not bad enough.” Maxwell kept his voice similarly low as Weston brought Echo closer to the rail.

“She’s beautiful,” Eryn whispered.

Maxwell managed a complete breath. “She is.” He stopped before adding that Eryn was, too. No, today’s step was about winning Echo’s trust.

“Are there apple pieces?”