He ducks his head, just slightly, to hide the little tuck of a self-conscious smile behind the brim of his hat, clears his throat. Christ, but he's rusty, if you can call a man 'rusty' when he ain't never been much good at something to begin with. And a woman like Grace...

Well, they ain't exactly lining up to spend time with him back home.

"Got no plans," he offers, with a lift of one shoulder. Licks his lips, tries for a little better. "So I guess I am."

He can take the gelding out, or any one of the other horses, and he's turning to grab the mare's tack for her when her other question comes drifting along with the soft sounds the mare makes.

"No name." The bridle jingles as he lifts it from its hook. "Never got around to pickin one out for her."