Maybe because it was difficult thinking of his little brother locked up behind steel bars. Finn had refused to see him. Or maybe because his failures weighed heavy on his soul. Either way, he didn’t feel prepared for how she watched the ground instead of the world around her as she came out of the house in her Sunday best. Her daughter hopped down the steps in two-footed jumps, her white-blond braids bouncing. The son saw him and took off at a run, eager to see the horses. Clyde gave a snort of welcome and stretched against the harness collar, reaching his neck as far as it would go. “’Mornin’, sir. Thank you kindly for the hat!” The boy skidded to a stop in front of Clyde, who was calm enough not to bat an eye. The gentle giant gave a low nicker and lipped the boy’s hat brim affectionately. Aiden nodded. It was the best he could do. He’d left the Stetson on the kitchen table late last night, knowing it would be found this morning.
