by Ann Hunter
“Think I’ll ever get the time of day from her?” he asked, almost wistfully. When she didn’t answer right away, he clasped his hands in supplication. “Please tell me what I have to do.”
Carol put her hands on her hips, and tilted her head.
“You seem to know eachother really well,” he added.
Did she? She wasn’t so sure after breakfast. How had she gotten Alex to let her in in the first place?
“Okay,” she said. “But you’re not going to get it.”
“What do you mean?”
She popped into the tack room to grab a pen and sticky note near the clipboard by the door. Quickly jotting down the only thing she could think of to help him get into Alex’s good graces. She went back out to him and pressed the paper into his hands.
Dejado’s dark brow furrowed as he read it. “This doesn’t say anything.”
“Ohhhh, yes it does.” She pulled the stirrups down the leathers, measuring against her arm to make sure the length was right.
He looked up at her. “First Corinthians thirteen, four through seven. Are you trying to pull one over on me?”
She shook her head. “When I first met her and started tutoring, there were so many times I didn’t want to go back the next day. She was so… difficult. Her heart was so mean and broken. But then I found that scripture, and over time I understood.”
“What?”
“She chooses you.” She took the paper from him, and gazed down at her handwriting, remembering.
“You can’t force it, Dejado. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.”
She passed the note back to him again, removing Thorne from the cross-ties. “That’s how you’ll get her. And when she lets you in, you’ll know you’ve earned it. She’ll force you to be a better person.”
He still looked confused as she mounted outside. She gathered the reins and smiled at him. “Patience, Dejado. And a little kindness goes a long way too.”
She urged Thorne into a canter, with her eye on Alex astride Approved in the distance. “Stop trying so hard,” she called back to Dejado.
***
Alex had ground tied Approved to graze, and scurried up the oak at the north end of the farm. She spotted Carol coming from a mile away. How did she always find her?
Alex leaned her head back against the trunk. “I want to be alone, okay?”
“No one wants to be alone.”
Her eyes shot to Carol. “I do.”
Alex huffed and shimmied up the tree trunk higher, disappearing against the light breaking through the canopy above.
Carol sighed. “Really?”
“Go away, Caroline.” Alex glimpsed Carol circling the tree trunk below, trying to find her.
“Remember when we did this last year and became best friends? What happened to that? Why are we even fighting right now?”
Leaves rustled on a high branch where Alex settled. “Still not talking to you.”
“You’re lucky I love you, jerk face.”
Alex’s eyes widened. She tucked her lip. “You love me?”
“Well, yeah. Of course I do. You’re my best friend. I don’t even care if you love me back or not. That’s not what this is about.”
She looked over her shoulder, wondering if Carol could see her. “Then what’s it about?”
“You getting help.” Carol’s hands were on her hips. “It killed me to see you like that last night. I knew you were hurting, but I had no idea you were so—”
“Messed up?”
“I was going to say bad.”
Alex looked away, pressing the back of her head to the trunk. “I don’t need help.”
“You don’t want help. You never have. Stubborn…”
Carol’s string of name calling was lost in the breeze.
“I don’t have a monkey butt,” Alex retorted.
“You climb like one.”
“Is name calling really part of this love thy friend thing, Marshmallow?”
“Hey.”
There was a brief pause between them. “Too far?” Alex asked softly.
“Yeah.”
Another awkward pause.
“I still really like marshmallows,” Alex offered.
“Will you just come down here already?”
Alex gazed out across the valley. Her second favorite view of the world. “No. I like it up here.”
“You can’t run away from your problems forever.”
“Watch me.”
***
Joe stared at the plate before Brooke set before him. Her lemon pepper chicken tetrazzini was almost as good as Dot’s had been.
She took a seat across the table from him, and bowed her head reverently. “You gonna say grace tonight, Pop?”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said it. Him and God had few words together. There’s not much he wanted to say to Him. The grace thing was a habit Dot had passed on to their children. Yet, he wove his fingers together and pressed them against his forehead for her sake.
Brooke sighed when he remained silent.
His mind wandered to the hum of her voice, drawing him back to a different time at this same table. A time when her mother had still been alive.
“In Jesus name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Dot echoed.
He stared at his fifteen-year-old daughter, Rowan over the edge of his woven hands. Dot passed her a basket of garlic bread. He’d seen the scene before him a thousand times.
When did Rowan grow up? She looked so grown up. And Dot… there were tiny wrinkles at the corners of her mouth, and her sparkling eyes were marked by crow’s feet.
He smiled at the laugh lines on her. The dining room light glinting off of his wedding band seemed to frame her in a halo.
It was the same golden light that radiated in the center of Rowan’s eyes. “So I was thinking, Pop, we could try putting Angie on Jet.”
Joe thanked his wife as she piled spaghetti onto his plate. “Why would you give away your best mount?”
“He never does what I ask.”
“You’re not tough enough on him. I showed you how to take hold of him. He’ll keep being a pig unless you show him who’s boss.”
“I don’t think being rough with him is the answer. He needs something else. Not every horse responds to methods like yours.”
“They would if you did it the way I told you to. It’s a horse, Rowan, not a pet.”
“When we moved here, you didn’t even ask me what I wanted. You just put me on a horse and ran away.”
“You seemed happy.”
“I wanted to please you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. To make you and mom happy. I thought maybe if I rode a few ponies for you, you’d finally notice me!”
“I notice you.”
“You don’t even really know me, Pop. You fell in love with someone else’s kid, and tried to fit me into that box. I am not, and will never be, Angelina.” Rowan threw her fork down, chipping the rim of the plate, and throwing her chair out of the way.
“Did you hear me, Pop?” Brooke asked.
Joe blinked twice, seeing Rowan in his granddaughter’s face for a split second. There was a chip in Brooke’s plate.
“I said I think you should give Alex a chance on Promenade,” she said.
Chances. Puh. He stuffed his mouth with the last bite of pasta and pushed back his chair, wiping his chin. He left his plate behind for Brooke to clean up. Dot had always cleaned up.
Joe pressed his palms against the sink in the kitchen, his eyes boring through the drain. If he had his way, there would still be whiskey in the cupboard below.
PONY UP
“Taking the freak and a few other juveniles and sophomores out to Churchill in August,” Joe announced as he marched down the barn aisle with Brooke, Alex, an
d Dejado behind him. He wished Alexl would stop treating the freak like a pet. He was a racehorse, not some pretty play thing. Maybe if he put the Mexican up on him, he’d run more like a horse and less like the pampered prince the girl had turned him into.
“What’s his schedule like?” Alex asked, “Can I come with? I’ve always been his groom. He’ll be calmer if I’m there.”
Did she ever shut up? Joe swatted toward her like she was a fly in his ear. Did they make sprays for annoying girls like they did for horses? Who did she remind him of? And how could he get her off his back?
He squinted at her. “You want to ride for me?”
Alex nodded adamantly.
“Go saddle up a pony.”
Her shoulders slumped as though the crumb he threw her was anything less than a four course meal. If she wanted to eat like a king, she had to work like a peasant first. “Giddyup, kid.”
Alex rolled her head back and made a sound like a cave man, but she skulked off anyway to get a lead horse ready. They weren’t really pony-sized. She should be grateful he let her on the track. His track.
He turned to Brooke and Dejado.
“I’ll ride the Mexican. They’re only good for jockeys and enchiladas anyway.”
Brooke swatted him in the arm. “God, Pop.”
Dejado nearly choked. “I’m from England. Not Mexico.”
Joe blinked as though what he said was entirely inoffensive. Couldn’t these kids take a joke? What was society teaching them these days anyway? Damn liberals. “Whatever. You’re riding for me today.”
Brooke and Dejado exchanged looks. Joe squinted at them.
“You’re still standing here. Saddle up already.”
The two teenagers broke for the barn.
***
Alex led one of the geldings used for escorting racehorses in training from his stall and put him in cross ties to groom him. Somewhere beneath that spotted coat was a hardy creature, built like a bulldog. He craned his head around to get a good look at her. His gaze reminded her of Promenade’s with the way the whites of their eyes blended with a blaze. Maybe working as an outrider wouldn’t be so bad today.
Alex realized she might suck at poker. She couldn’t bluff away her feelings. She should be working racehorses, not ponying them. The old man had some nerve. Why was he such a dick?
When the pinto pony was all cleaned up, Alex dragged a western saddle from the tack room, grunting as she hoisted it over his blanketed back. She swore it was heavier than she was. It definitely made her aware of the differences between this and the exercise saddles she was used to working with.
Not as familiar with the workings of this type, she swallowed a bit of her pride and asked for help from one of the passing outriders. She watched him carefully so she wouldn’t have to ask again in the future. When the saddle was cinched up, the outrider was even kind enough to give her a boost into the saddle.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Chuwie will take care of you so you can do your job. He’s a good guy,” the outrider said as he patted the pinto’s neck.
Alex gathered the reins and steered Chuwie to the track where Joe stood, like always, along with Brooke and Dejado both on horseback.
She didn’t really recognize their mounts, but they all looked at her when she and Chuwie approached.
“This is Donut,” Brooke said from the back of a fat, dark chestnut. Well, fat by racehorse standards anyway. “DJ’s on Tally Man.”
Alex snorted a laugh. Chuwie Donut.
Joe squinted at them. “Usually we give Tally Man something to run at, but tubbo there needs it more today. Hopefully we’ll see some semblance of a racehorse. Stoke his fire.” He glared at Brooke. “Got it?”
Brooke nodded. Donut yawned.
Joe looked at Alex. “You lead Tally Man out and turn him loose, then stay outta the way.”
Alex glanced at Brooke who gave her a pleading look to please try to follow instructions, as though ponying a fatty and the dork face were some form of getting her foot in the door.
“Yessir,” Alex mumbled. She guided Chuwie to Tally Man and Dejado’s side, reaching for the reins close to the bridle. She lead them onto the track, hoping Dejado wouldn’t talk to her.
“Did I already say good morning, Ishmael?” he asked.
Alex sighed. Hopes equal dashed.
He leaned forward a little trying to make eye contact, along with that goofy smile he put on when he was around her. “Good morning, Ishmael.”
“Dorkshado,” Alex responded curtly.
“It’s a beautiful day.”
“Either find something better to talk about than the weather, or don’t talk at all.”
Dejado gathered the reins and leaned back, as though her words had shifted his center of gravity. “Outrider’s a good look on you.”
Tally Man snorted as they trotted.
“Was that supposed to win you brownie points?” Alex asked.
“Are you giving any away today?”
She shot him a look. He grinned sheepishly. “Not today,” she said.
She urged Chuwie into a canter and sent Dejado and his mount flying. “Have a nice ride.”
Dejado saluted her, taking off on Tally Man.
Alex looked over her shoulder to see Donut loping up the track. She steered Chuwie to the outside rail, out of the way like Joe wanted. Donut passed, half asleep. Alex doubted chasing another horse would wake him up. As far as she could tell, racing wasn’t his thing.
Racehorses were funny like that, she’d started to notice. Some of them were all fire and wanted nothing more than to run all day. Others, like Donut, would probably make decent ponies.
Alex took to scratching Chuwie’s neck, trying to keep her mind off how lucky Brooke and Dejado were to be on the backs of Thoroughbreds this morning. Her own mount started nodding off, with a swish of his black and white tail. He shifted his weight beneath her and yawned.
“My thoughts exactly,” Alex murmured. “Welcome to Boringville. Population me.”
She knew everyone’s job around the farm was important, but right now she felt like she was on the bottom of the racing hierarchy. Sitting around waiting for something to happen didn’t feel very important. If she couldn’t be riding, at least put her to work grooming or mucking. Anything where she’d feel more needed and useful. Really, she’d brought this on herself. She had asked to ride after all, and here she was - sitting in a saddle on a brawny old Paint horse. If you could call that riding.
It reminded her of that old deodorant commercial with the black guy in the tropics, grinning. “I’m on a horse!”
Even he seemed to be having a better time than she was. Alex scanned the track, catching up visually with Brooke and Dejado.
Maybe it was a bird flying past, or the way the sun peaked over the trees and struck the track, but when Donut rounded the turn, he bolted. It wasn’t like a breeze where he was trying to catch up to Tally Man, but an outright wild run.
Alex’s breath hitched, gripping the reins tighter. She shook her head, sure that Brooke would get a hold of the horse. Honestly, Alex was surprised he moved faster than a canter at all. He pulled even with Tally Man, and Dejado looked like he was trying to grab hold of Donut’s reins. The gelding crow hopped, then planted, sending Brooke straight up onto his neck. He took off again, erratically.
Brooke was a good rider. She’d fix herself. Wouldn’t she? Alex shielded her eyes, and bit her lip. Brooke clung to Donut’s neck at break neck speed. Any minute she’d right herself. Alex held her breath. Any second now. Alex squinted, realizing Brooke’s foot was caught in the stirrup. She needed help.
“Just when I thought I wouldn’t get any action today,” Alex said. A shiver of thrill rushed down her spine. Useful, at last! She put her heels to the gelding’s sides, urging him into a gallop. “C’mon, Chuwie!”
The chunky pinto rocketed forward with more power than Alex expected. She grabbed the horn of her saddle, steadied herself, and urged hi
m on. His speed was surprising, and he was nimble to boot. She pointed him in Donut’s direction. “Go get’em.”
With the other horse in his sights, Chuwie dug down and barreled toward Donut. It didn’t take long to draw up along his side. Alex leaned, reaching for the reins flapping freely. Her hand fell through empty air. She drew Chuwie close again, fingers struggling to close around Donut’s reins.
Brooke barely straddled Donut’s withers; fingers tangled in his cinnamon mane, one boot digging into his shoulder. She looked determined to hang on, but pale as fog.
“I gotchya, Stick,” Alex called to Brooke, dead set not to miss again. Chuwie edged in front of Donut, and ducked his head slightly, nudging it against the gelding, and forcing him to slow. It was the leverage Alex needed to finally snatch the reins.
She hauled back on both sets, drawing Donut’s head close to her knee. He threw a buck, but then came under control. Brooke clawed back into her seat. When they finally slowed to a trot, she reached for the iron and freed her ankle from it. Alex dared Joe to call her incompetent now.
Brooke looked at Alex with both embarrassment and fear.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Alex assured. She smirked. “You’re still the best rider I know.”
Dejado trotted up beside them on a panting Tally Man. “You guys okay?”
Alex nodded. “Better than okay.”
Brooke didn’t look so sure.
Donut continued to calm, slobbering on Alex’s knee. Dejado pulled ahead standing in the stirrups, but Alex couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut. “Hey Dorkshado.”
His legs formed some kind of letter A as he glanced between his knees. It almost appeared as though he’d pulled his head out of his butt. He looked kinda funny upside down like that.
Alex felt the tingle of warmth rising in her face and the wind fading. “Brownie points. Y’know… for trying to help.”
He broke into a bright grin and gave her a thumbs up.
NEVER ALONE
Alex’s finger trembled on the gun trigger. A roulette of faces transformed before her. DeGelder, Ashley, Carol; DeGelder, Ashley, Carol. Spin the wheel and pull the trigger.
“Traitors!” Alex cried.
