It seemed his attempt at humor had fallen short. Ezekiel frowned, suddenly unsure if he was doing the right thing. This woman had been quite content with her children before he had come in and upset her routine, and here he was doing it again. Maybe Talitha was right—maybe they were misplaced, he and her, and they were destined to bring nothing but misery down on those they tried to help. A sigh escaped his chest and he loosened the grip on the stallion’s rope halter. His mount did not seem to mind, and responded by picking up his pace a little, now recognizing where they were.
Yet his morose outlook faded quickly as she spoke of her profession. Ezekiel’s eyes brightened, realizing he had indeed been right when he had seen her first. “I thought so,” he announced triumphantly. <“I’ve never met a healer who doesn’t carry a bag. Mine doesn’t fit much, but I wasn’t taking care of a whole pack when I was gone,” he babbled on, laughing slightly. “You’d probably love to see the set-up my cousin has, he’s got a whole room dedicated to this stuff. Weird guy, but he’s a lot better at what he does then I am.”
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