"Don't mind," Grace answers, her head tilting back slightly so she can get a better look at him. "I do. Boomer here's in good hands."

She laughs after she says the name, wickedly amused, and reaches for the saddle blanket first, the material snagging on the rough skin of her trigger finger. She uses it to shoo him out like a matador facing a bull, laughing all that much harder.

"Boomer's one of the two white ponies that pull the Sooner Schooner," she calls back over her shoulder as she works. "Oklahoma U, my alma mater." Then, "She yours or the bar's?"