by Lux Miller
I wince as I picture it in my mind and I realize that Hunter’s a lot tougher than he looks. I mean, he looks like a buff James Dean in flannel, but his pretty boy appearance is disarming. And more than a little deceiving. Despite knowing that there are buttons I shouldn’t be pushing, I can’t seem to get my mind and my hand to cooperate. I brush my thumb over his lips slowly. I wince as I realize that there’s a almost imperceptible gash across his top lip in addition to the bloody nose. As I do, he maintains eye contact with me, and I can see something flash in his, though I’m not sure exactly what it is.
He reaches up, wrapping his strong hand around my wrist tightly. Pulling my hand down off of his face, he clears his throat, clearly bothered by the intimate touch. His voice is low with a tinge of regret as he adds, “I can handle it. I ride horses for a living, Raven. I’ve been stomped on, kicked, thrown, bitten… you name it, I’ve been through it. I’ve even been shit on by a horse and let me tell you, you haven’t lived life until you’ve taken a blast from a horse’s ass.
“I’ve been around horses since I could walk. I learned how to ride when I was three. I was born and bred for this life. Horses have always been my thing, though the alpacas are growing on me. I’ve never felt more free in my life than being astride a horse that trusts you utterly as its rider. Dallas and I have that, though Fiona’ll let me ride her too when Ashley isn’t around. I’ve been injured by the magnificent animals more times than I can remember, but even still, I believe there’s no such thing as a bad animal — or for that matter, a bad person...”
I nod as he lets go of my wrist, and I bring it up to my body, rubbing it out of habit as I maintain eye contact with him as. I’m just standing here, dumbly frozen in place. My breath nearly catches in my throat as Hunter tips his hat at me. With my voice meek and almost under my breath, I finish his statement, “...just bad circumstances…”
TEN
Hunter
The blinding pain that shot through my face when that damn horse knocked me into the fence was awful. And things went from bad to worse when Raven realized I was bleeding. She hadn’t been too concerned about my safety until I couldn’t hide the dribble of blood coming out of my nose. Then she was suddenly worried about me. But it’s not her place to worry and despite me telling her so, she continued to fuss over me. I don’t know if it’s morbid curiosity, or her inability to let me keep the distance she demanded be given. But she’s breaking her own rules before the ink’s even dry.
Thankfully, before things can go from awkward to inappropriate, a loud car horn blaring outside startles us both away from each other. I snatch up a clean towel and press it to my face as Ms. Bianchi steps inside the barn. Instantly, her face goes from ‘ready to kiss this day’s ass’ to horrified. “Hunter! What happened?!?”
I motion to where Ditsy has propped his muzzle up on the top rim of the gate that encloses his stall. “Ditsy plays dirty, but I’ll be fine. It’s just a little bit of blood. Nothing time and a good meal won’t cure.”
I turn the charm up to an eleven as Ms. Bianchi eyes me like she doesn’t believe me. She shakes her head as she rolls her eyes. “Hunter, you could be laying in a ditch clinging to life, and you’d still try to convince me you’re fine. You and your sister are cut from the same cloth. You know she claimed she was going to walk out of that hospital after Liberty threw her?”
I can’t help but chuckle as I think back to the day a few weeks ago. It’s true that Poppy refused to believe she was injured. She was convinced that no horse could throw her hard enough to take her out of commission, possibly permanently. She wasn’t counting on Liberty’s sheer determination to be the most brutal horse to ever prance across the pasture.
The vet tech where Poppy and I both interned when we were young teenagers always insisted that horses were far below humans in intelligence. So far in fact, that we had nothing to fear from an obstinate horse, as long as we had control of the reins. That proved to be bullshit when Liberty bucked Poppy off with the reins still wrapped firmly around her hand. And yeah, my sister insisted she was going to walk out of the hospital - kinda hard to do when your clavicle is in pieces.
I offer Ms. Bianchi the same charming, megawatt smile that earned me a reputation back home before I could even vote as the Don Juan of Dover. New Jersey, not Delaware. My sister and I grew up in the quaint city about a half hour from New York City. It was close enough to the major cities so that we didn’t have to live like we were in the middle of the 1800s, but far enough away that we were raised on a farm.
Ms. Bianchi shakes her head, wagging her finger at me. “If it starts bleeding again, please tell me, Hunter. I can’t have my best ranch hand passing out due to blood loss, because he’s as stubborn as the horse he’s currently glaring at…”
My eyes snap to her as she calls me out for giving Ditsy a dirty look. I chuckle and try to brush it off, but shake my head slowly. “Are they all as obstinate as this one?”
Ms. Bianchi shrugs. “I was told no, but I don’t have any experience with miniatures. They just seemed like an interesting venture to undertake. But you’ve seen how vastly different the full-size quarter horses can behave. Liberty’s a snarling, snorting nightmare, whereas Fiona is a gentle giant.”
I nod. “Duly noted. So, there’s a chance I’ll get on with at least one of the little rascals. How many they bringing us right now?”
Ms. Bianchi waves her hand toward the doorway. “Three, so with Ditsy, that’ll be four. The other three will be delivered next week once these guys get acquainted with each other. We thought it best to bring the more dominant male and the girls in later. Let these fellas get to know each other first.”
I nod and wad the cloth up, tossing it into a garbage can that’s usually used for empty bags of animal feed and torn and ripped saddle blankets. Ms. Bianchi tries not to react to seeing my face. I can tell from her expression that she sees something she doesn’t like, but she’s not going to say a word about it to me because she wants my next steps to be my decision. And I’m not going to make the decision she wants me to make.
There’s too much going on with the ranch, and she and I both know that she can’t spare me for something as minor as a broken nose, if it’s even broken. Besides, it will heal, and a ranch hand doesn’t have to be attractive to be effective. The herd and the horses will listen to me either way.
“They can all go in this stall for now until I can make adjustments to the other one. We’ve had to free Ditsy here from the bars in the fence twice already, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d done it again. And I’m fresh out of lube now, so he’d have had to stay there.”
Ms. Bianchi bursts out laughing, “Oh, I’m sure I can find some in my daughter’s room. Girl’s got about as much sense as me when it comes to men. Speaking of Ashley, can you take Fiona out today? She’s still moping over some boy she met in the city that supposedly broke her heart. She keeps making the same mistakes over and over. I keep telling her that no boy is worth that kind of heartache, but she’s going to have to figure that out for herself, apparently. In the meantime, Fiona’s getting restless.”
I nod my head curtly at Ms. Bianchi and motion outside. “Yeah, let me get these tiny terrors situated. If the others are anything like Ditsy, they can’t be left alone to wander for five seconds, or they’re going to be get themselves in trouble. If Ditsy’s able to get himself good and stuck in a fence, I shudder to think what kind of mischief all of them together could get into.”
Ms Bianchi nods and walks out, undoubtedly heading back up to the main house to check on Ashley. Ms. Bianchi wasn’t exaggerating when she said Ashley’s been moping around. Granted, I haven’t seen Ashley in almost a year, and the days of us confiding in each other are long gone. Ashley’s a year younger than me and four younger than Poppy. I’ve been working on the ranch since she was a young teen who would come out here to escape her father’s oppression.
We would always hang out and take the horses for runs, confiding our d
arkest secrets to each other in the middle of the pasture. What neither her father nor her mother know is that the confidence between us became something more, something meaningful, before it spiraled out of control. I’m one of Ashley Rogers’ mistakes, and it’s not a fact I’m proud of, but it’s not something I’m going to shy away from either.
Ashley and I get along well enough now to work alongside each other, but the friendship and certainly the passion we once shared have cooled. Things are still awkward, but we’ve been working toward a new normal. My feelings for the pretty, little princess may have changed over time, but I still don’t like to hear that she’s been hurt. I don’t like to see any woman hurting.
My attention is snapped back to the present when I hear a very fitful bray sound from outside the barn door. I walk over and peek around the door and almost die laughing. Raven is sitting on the ground, surrounded by three miniature horses that are nudging her with their muzzles like puppies fighting for attention. I may not know a lot about Raven, but I can tell already that there’s something about her. From the puppies to the miniature horses all the way to me, she’s got a way with animals that makes my heart gallop uncomfortably fast.
Surrounded by the miniatures as she sits on the dusty ground, Raven seems to be completely at ease in her world right now. She looks to be in her element as the miniatures take turns fighting for her attention, something she’s willingly indulging them in. She’s patting their muzzles one by one as she murmurs something to each horse, then moves on to another. She even laughs, a sweet tinkling sound, as one of them sneezes in her face.
She wipes away the snot and declares, “Okay, this one is going to forever be known as Snotty!”
I can’t help but chuckle as it’s perfectly appropriate. She points to the second one that’s lying down at her feet with his face nuzzled in her lap. She pats the top of his head and scratches between his ears, but the horse doesn’t budge. “This one’s gonna be Drowsy. He seems like he’s ready to take a nap, and it’s barely daylight out.”
I point at the remaining miniature, who’s standing beside Raven like he’s her protector. He isn’t squirming around or vying for her attention. He’s just content to be in her presence. Aren’t we all, buddy? Raven’s like a breath of fresh air, that moment right after a summer rainstorm just before the humidity slaps in you the face. “What about that one?”
Raven’s smile widens, “That one’s gonna be Dude, because he’s kinda chill.”
I nod with a smile of my own. I don’t know her all that well, but even I can tell that Raven’s in her element right now. Of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows for the shy beauty. There’s a darkness that hovers just below the surface of her perfectly polished exterior, and it’s a darkness that she can’t control when her guard goes down. When she’s vulnerable and hurting, she pushes everyone away. That’s what her sister says, at least, and I’ve witnessed it on a small scale. She pretends she doesn’t need anyone, and copes by numbing away the pain.
I’ve heard from Aspen about what they’ve gone through in the last year, and the two sisters are handling their personal tragedies vastly differently. Aspen was a newlywed when the accident occurred, and Raven was a fragile teenager just finding her way in the world. Aspen threw herself into her marriage and baby daughter, and Raven closed herself off to her feelings. She plastered on a fake smile for the world, so that all they’d see was the image of happiness she wanted to portray. And she began to rely on her hallucination-inducing candies to pretend that that image was reality.
The problem with her self-medicating is that while she may dampen the hurt, she unleashes the darkness every time she does it. If her reaction to the news of us having sex last night is any indication, Raven and her darkness do not reside on the same page, even if they inhabit the same body. It’s confusing, because it seems like she’s fine one minute and angsty the next, and it seems it’s a constant battle between being in pain or being ruthlessly out of control. I wish I knew how to help her, but I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to constantly be at odds with yourself, knowing that whichever side wins the battle, you’ll still lose the war.
ELEVEN
Raven
It’s been a week of awkwardly uncomfortable days on the ranch since the miniatures arrived. They settled in fairly easily, and we didn’t have any real excitement with the addition of Dude, Drowsy and Snotty. Nothing like when Ditsy first arrived. There’s been some arguments between the boys, but nothing like Ditsy versus the fence. The rest of them are due to arrive this evening, including the two girls Ms. Bianchi has warned us will be handfuls. Surely, nothing can be worse behaved than Ditsy. Thankfully, Hunter’s fixed the fence so that nobody else can pull a Ditsy and get their head stuck in it.
Speaking of Hunter, the tension between the two of us is palpable every time we’re in a room together. Even when we’re not in the same room, things are just weird. My sister has not stopped talking about him and pointing out his good points. How he comes from a good family, and how he’s a hard worker. And every time she brings him up, my face goes crimson. She’s convinced I’ve a schoolgirl crush on the handsome cowboy. And she’s not totally wrong, except for the fact that she won’t let it go.
She keeps pointing out how strong he is, and how the muscles in his back bunch when he lifts the bales of hay or mucks out a stall. How his eyes are this phenomenal shade of hazel that shifts and changes according to his moods, and what he’s wearing. Like I haven’t noticed. Or the way his sandy brown hair has gotten a little shaggy on the ends where it’s starting to curl up around his ears, or if he’s wearing it, his cowboy hat. And he wears that often.
She’s also droned on and on about how he whistles while he works in the barn, and how he dwarfs me in size and could sweep me up into his arms without breaking a sweat. Sometimes, I want to shout at her that I already know this! All of it! I’ve stared into those dreamy eyes for far too long on more than one occasion. And he’s demonstrated his incredible strength before. I’m well-aware that he can carry me like I weigh nothing. But it’s not like I could tell her that! She’d never let the matter drop if she had any inkling of what’s gone on between the pair of us.
It’s not that I’d care if she knew. Hunter’d be at the top of anyone’s bucket list, and having him genuinely interested in me wouldn’t be a bad thing. It’s just incredibly embarrassing to think that I’ve already accomplished what most women who’ve ever met the guy hope will happen. And it’s a shame that I’ve guaranteed that’s all that’ll ever happen between us. Hunter is not interested in pursuing this crazy bitch.
I’m not sure what was a bigger slap to his ego - me refusing to ever engage in a repeat performance or me not remembering the one time we apparently mauled each other like wild animals. From what he described, it was pretty phenomenal sex, but all I got out of it was soreness the following day and a lifetime of embarrassment. It’s a feeling I’m reminded of every time we’re in the same room.
And that happens a lot. I’m almost convinced my new complexion is apple-red cheeks that don’t fade. We’ve been in the barn together a lot. It’s impossible to avoid crossing paths with Hunter, because our jobs call for us to spend a lot of time with the horses. I’ve been tending to the miniatures while he takes care of the others, including that crazy thing, Liberty. He wasn’t joking when he said she was wild. And wild is the best adjective to describe her.
Most horses are breakable - you put a saddle on them and you teach them who’s boss. Eventually, their spirit breaks, and they’ll allow you to ride them. Liberty refuses to allow a rider onto her back, and after she threw Hunter’s sister, Hunter refuses to go near her unless he absolutely has to do it. And then, he assures there’s plenty of space between them. In fact, the only creature he maintains a wider berth with is me.
Like now. I’m grooming one of the fellas in anticipation of the girls’ arrival this evening, so I’m kneeling down on the ground inside their stall, gently dra
gging a brush across their fur. Thankfully, they’re short-hairs, so it’s just a matter of smoothing out their coat rather than picking out tangles and knots. He’s tending to his own horse, Dallas. At least, I think Dallas is his. Even if she’s not, he definitely favors her.
Fiona is restless, but I know that’s because Ashley has arrived back in upstate New York for the foreseeable future from what I’ve heard. And Fiona is impatiently waiting for her owner to take her out. Ashley seems sweet enough, certainly not the stuck-up airhead I was expecting. I mean, Aspen’s practically best friends with her, so I knew she couldn’t be all bad, but if the newspapers were to be believed, Ashley’s as vindictive as her father, Pierce Rogers.
When I wrinkled my nose at the thought of Ashley coming back to the ranch to stay for a while, Aspen scolded me and reminded me that we are not carbon copies of our parents, but rather a sum of parts. And she’s pretty convinced that Blake, Ashley, and their brother Carter discarded most of their father’s more unsavory bits and came out pretty decent. I can’t vouch for Carter - I hear he’s in prison or some kind of rehab program for solicitation, but Blake’s fine. He’s good to my sister and that’s all that really matters. She needs someone that can bring out the happiness in her that she keeps tucked in, closely guarded.
