by Susan Fox
“Elena and I really like that idea. Not everyone’s as privileged as us.”
“I like it, too, but it’s not a moneymaker. So tell me what you think of this idea.” Over the past couple of days, he’d been playing with a different concept. “What if her camp, or at least part of it, was a charitable foundation? Donors would get tax receipts so that, perhaps more than making money, you’d be saving money with a big tax deduction.”
“I like that. TJ didn’t mention that to me.”
“I don’t think she’s thought of it. But I could suggest it to her if that’s all right with you.” He laid his cards on the table. “You’re my client and she’s my friend. I know that’s a potential conflict of interest. But you’re interested in the boot camp, and I think you know by now that I’d never advise you to invest in something that wasn’t solid. If I worked with Jess—TJ—in some fashion, and she put together a strong proposal for a company, a foundation, or both, then—”
“It’s the best-case scenario for all of us,” Gianni broke in.
“I think it could be.”
“Still,” his client said slowly, “if she’s going to make this fly, she has to know how to do financial analysis and business projections herself, or at least hire the talent.”
“Agreed.”
“Morning, Evan.” It was Ann, coming through the main door.
“Have to go,” he told Gianni. “I’ll talk to her again and get back to you.” Or at least he hoped Jess would talk to him. Even if she didn’t want his assistance, she should consider the idea of a charity, and she needed to find a professional who could help her organize a businesslike proposal.
He shelved his concerns for the time being and went into the dining room for breakfast. Each day he found himself more receptive to the group-style meals. Although first-thing-in-the-morning sociability might not be his natural style, he was holding his own and he enjoyed participating. This morning, the talk centered around last night’s video and the morning ride.
Gianni had been absolutely right about that ambiance thing. Each event at the Crazy Horse seemed special, and the guests were getting horse-crazier by the moment. Already a couple were talking about buying a horse when they got home. Over breakfast, Evan heard everyone swear they’d be coming back to the Crazy Horse next year.
He noticed Kathy grinning as she refilled coffee cups. He pushed back his chair and followed her to the kitchen door. “How many actually come back?”
She put down the coffee urn. “Three or four in ten. Some don’t make it every year, but come now and then. We have a couple of groups who come back together for the same week every year.”
The idea made him smile.
Kathy grinned. “It’s appealing, isn’t it?”
“I admit it. But right now everyone is so hyped. That can’t last.”
“No, but we hope that in their time here—and that’s why we only book in two-week blocks—people learn some lasting lessons about themselves. More confidence, especially physical confidence. Increased love and respect for animals. More of a focus on the outdoors and physical health. And most of all, the ability to stop and smell the roses.”
First Gianni, then Jess, and now Kathy had used that phrase. “You have some fine roses here,” he said, meaning far more than the pretty, sweet-smelling pink ones that grew wild.
“Don’t I know it.”
“You’ve done a great job in designing this concept and marketing the place. I understand it has a terrific reputation, internationally.”
She nodded with satisfaction. “Will and I set out to create something exclusive. Of course we wanted to make money, but also, we figure rich folks need this kind of holiday as much as poor ones. Look at you, Evan. A New York investment counselor. That’s your real life, right? But I’m betting that when you go back to it you’ll make some changes. You wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t something inside you that was drawn to a slower pace, different priorities.”
She gestured toward the tousled guests, chatting animatedly around the big wooden table. “And look at the business benefits. You could meet people like them at management seminars in Manhattan. You’d be wearing your power suits, talking business, pressing business cards into each other’s hands, making notes on your smartphones. You’d never relax enough to get to know each other. Here, you’re making friends and business contacts who are meaningful. Right?”
He nodded. Yes, Evan was going to check into George’s company, with an eye to recommending it to his investors. George planned to hire Sandy to design a program for them. Joan’s husband wasn’t happy with his current investment counselor, so she would recommend Evan. The group of guests was forming lots of business connections.
He smiled at Kathy. “You really know what you’re doing.”
“Living in a beautiful place, making a fine living, meeting fascinating folks, and actually making a difference in some people’s lives. What more could we ask?”
“Don’t people forget to smell the roses once they get home?”
“Some do.” She gave an impish grin. “We remind them, though. Once you’re on our mailing list, Evan, it’s hard to forget about the Crazy Horse. We e-mail a quarterly newsletter. It has news about us and the horses, a couple of recipes, some health tips and exercises, information about alumni.”
“Really?”
“Be sure to keep us posted on what you’re doing. It’s good networking. We also send postcards periodically, with photos of Jess, Madisun, and Robin on their horses, Will and me in the kitchen, guests gathered around the fireplace in winter, wild roses blooming, and so on. And we e-mail you about special package deals.”
Kathy and Will knew what they were doing when it came to developing their brand and marketing it. Why didn’t Jess follow their example? Was it because, unlike her bosses, she lacked confidence in her product? Or because she just enjoyed dreaming?
Chapter Twelve
Today’s ride had a later start time than usual, yet when Evan reached the barnyard, only half the horses had been brought in from pasture and hitched to the rails. There was no sign of Jess, although her truck was there, the driver’s door hanging open.
Madisun looked frazzled as she turned to face the guests, four halters dangling from her hands.
“Running late?” George asked her.
“A little. Glad you folks turned up to lend a hand.” Her grin seemed forced.
“What can we do, Madisun?” Evan asked. “Without getting in your way?”
“Uh, let’s see. Why don’t you tack up the horses I’ve brought in, and I’ll get the rest of them.”
She’d barely finished speaking when the guests stampeded toward the barn. She sprinted toward the pasture and was fumbling with the gate when Evan caught up with her.
“What’s going on? Where’s TJ?”
When she turned to him, she was brushing tears from her cheeks. “I shouldn’t tell you.” She gave a hiccupy sob.
“What’s wrong, Madisun? Tell me, I’m a friend.”
A louder sob burst out, and then she swallowed hard. “We had to have a horse put down. P-Petula, one of our old favorites.”
The palomino Jess called Pet. Oh God, Jess would be shattered.
“It was colic,” Madisun said. “A t-twisted intestine. TJ was with her most of the night, but she and the vet gave up early this morning and had to p-put her down.” She took a shuddery breath. “We had to get Pet’s b-body taken away before the guests showed up. We don’t want anyone to know, don’t want to spoil the holiday mood. Oh Jesus, I shouldn’t have told you!” She dragged a ragged tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.
Evan touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. Where’s TJ?”
“Up at the lodge. She’s showering. But she’s a mess, Evan. She couldn’t stop crying.”
Softest heart in the world. He remembered.
Madisun turned anxious eyes on him. “I don’t know if she’s going to be able to cope.”
“S
he will,” he said with certainty. “She has guts. And so do you. I’ll do what I can to help. Let’s keep the guests busy, and try to keep attention away from TJ until she pulls herself together.”
Madisun leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder. Then she drew back. “Thanks.” She sucked in a breath, then exhaled. “I’ll bring the rest of the horses in.”
He studied her. “You’re pretty strong for your age, aren’t you?”
Eyes that were far older than eighteen met his. “Sometimes you have to be.” She flicked her head, long black hair lifting, then settling. “I’ll bring the horses to the fence. You can get them to the hitching rails?”
“No problem.”
Soon everyone was working industriously, and Evan was glad for every moment he’d spent learning how to deal with the horses.
He was helping Joan put on Mickey’s bridle when George’s voice rang out again with “Running late?” Evan turned to see Jess entering the yard. Her clothes were fresh, her hair was damp, and her hat was pulled low, shadowing her face.
“Sorry about that,” she said, voice ragged at the edges. “But I see Madisun has everything under control.”
Evan broke in. “We’ve been practicing our skills.” He put on a corny Cockney accent. “By George, mate, I think we’ve actually got it.”
Jess’s mouth opened in surprise.
He almost laughed. Yeah, he was acting out of character, but if playing the fool would help her and Madisun, he was glad to do it.
“TJ?” Madisun called out. “Can you help me over here?”
The guests went ahead with their tasks, and in a few minutes everyone was mounted, forming their usual line. “It’s my lucky day,” Madisun said as she swung into her appaloosa’s saddle. “TJ’s letting me be trail boss so Raindance and I will take the lead.”
She went through the gate and the others followed, but Evan held Rusty back. When Jess drew up beside him on Knight, he said, “How’re you doing?”
She tilted her head to look at him, and he got a good view of her face. He ached to see the shadows under her eyes, the puffy redness.
“Madisun shouldn’t have told you.” Her voice was husky from crying.
“Yes, she should. She’s a trooper, but she was barely hanging on.”
Jess swallowed so hard he could see it. “She told me how you helped out. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He wished there was some way to comfort her. But, knowing that what she needed most was privacy, he urged Rusty forward, leaving her to follow at her own pace.
Jess closed her aching eyes and held Knight back. The horse, used to being in the lead, danced in place and fussed with the bit. “Okay, boy,” she murmured soothingly, leaning forward to stroke his neck. “You’ll have a chance to run, but for now could you take it easy? I’m feeling fragile.”
Normally she welcomed the challenge of working with the new horses like Knight, but right now she longed for the steadiness of a Rusty. Or a Petula.
Jess drew a quavery breath. Death was a natural event, but the elderly horse had still had a few good years in her. Quality years, hanging out in the pasture with the other horses or taking little girls for rides.
Jess eased up on the reins and Knight bounded forward. She held him to a walk, but he strode along so quickly he soon caught up with the guests. He argued over her command that he stay behind Rusty, tossing his head, prancing, and fidgeting. She kept her hands steady and her signals firm and he grudgingly conceded.
Evan glanced over his shoulder, gave her a quick smile, then faced front again.
She returned the smile, giving it to his denim-clad shoulders. It was a relief to have nothing more to do than control Knight and watch the gentle rhythm of Evan’s strong back as he moved with Rusty. She drew in a deep breath of forest, deliberately expanding her lungs. The morning was gray and she smelled rain. Hopefully, it would hold off. She and Madisun had been too distracted to remember to hand out ponchos for the guests to tie to the backs of their saddles.
The horses trotted briefly, settled back to a walk, then, coming into an open stretch, cantered. Knight kept wanting to pass, to take what he considered to be his rightful place in the lead. “Discipline is good for you,” she murmured. Normally, after she’d trained a new horse, she passed the animal along to Madisun to ride at the back of the line for a couple of months. The Crazy Horse animals had to learn to keep their place, not compete for leadership.
Schooling Knight helped Jess focus. And, as always, just being on horseback out in the countryside was a healing experience. Her grief settled into a dull sense of melancholy.
When the riders reached the open meadows and split into two groups, as usual she took the advanced group. She gave Knight his head. His desire to run coincided with her own, and by now she knew her little band of guests could keep up without danger or fear.
The wind’s fingers caressed her cheeks and stroked her drying hair. She rode silently, barely hearing the whoops of her companions, but when she pulled up and they joined her, she gave them a smile that felt real. “Everyone okay?”
The enthusiastic response made her smile again.
Her gaze lingered on Evan, clad in denim and cowboy boots, the Resistol hat looking perfectly at home atop his sun-streaked hair. Just as Evan looked perfectly natural and at ease in the saddle. City boy turned cowboy. Thank God he was here today. His simple presence made her heart feel a tiny bit lighter.
Jess’s group joined up with the others and Madisun called out, “Follow me, now. We’ll ride for another five or ten minutes, then make a pit stop. Then another hour to our picnic spot.”
Jess sent a grateful smile in her direction. The teen had loved Petula, too, and felt her loss deeply. But Madisun was handling it better. She had a core of steel, that girl. Had to, with the stresses her parents laid on her.
Madisun led the group onto an overgrown dirt road. There was room to ride two abreast, and most people did so, taking the opportunity to chat.
Jess forced Knight to remain at the end of the line.
Evan held Rusty back, too, then guided his horse in step beside Knight. “Feel like company, Jess?”
What would she have done this morning without Madisun and this man? This old friend, this handsome man who looked like he belonged here.
If he’d been more open to her world as a boy, would both their lives have been different?
No, she couldn’t think that way. Today was already too stressful. She’d just enjoy the sight of him, her friend Ev riding beside her. “Yours, yes,” she told him. “But I don’t feel like talking.” She was still too fragile. If she talked, she’d cry again.
“No problem.”
They rode in companionable silence, broken only by the creak of leather, the jingle of harness, the horses’ occasional snorts.
A few drops of rain splattered their shoulders. Jess glanced up. “Dang, we should’ve brought ponchos.”
“We’ll survive.”
The drops soon stopped, thank heavens, and by the time they reached the lake, the sun was playing hide-and-seek among puffy white clouds.
Will, Kathy, and Marty awaited them with a barbecue set up beside coolers and wicker picnic baskets. The guests loosened off cinches, unknotted the reins and let them hang loose, spoke a few private words to their horses, then strode eagerly toward the picnic site.
“You’ve got them well trained,” Evan said.
“It’s more than that. You can see they love it. They’re becoming part of this world, even if it’s only temporary.”
“I know the feeling.”
She smiled, feeling sad. “I can see that.” Today, in her melancholy mood, it seemed particularly poignant that Evan could discover the wonders of the country yet be so committed to live in his huge city.
“Go get some lunch,” she urged, and he obeyed.
Madisun came over and the two women hugged. “You’re wonderful,” Jess said. “I owe you big-time.”
; “I like being trail boss.” But the girl’s eyes were shadowed. Jess put her arm around Madisun’s shoulders. “Let’s have some food.”
The spread was, as always, luscious. Will barbecued hamburgers, basted with Kathy’s secret sauce. The rest of the spread included crisp fried chicken, rich potato salad, tangy coleslaw, fresh-baked rolls, and an assortment of fruits and cookies.
People perched on rocks and logs by the lake and wandered back and forth as they replenished their plates.
Madisun was unusually quiet, and Jess noticed when she wandered into the woods. Jess always kept an eye on folks who headed for the shelter of the trees to answer calls of nature. Bears, wolves, and coyotes were rare, but not unknown. And so Jess noticed when Evan, too, headed off toward the woods close to where Madisun had entered.
She heard him call something. He stood in place a moment, then disappeared into the trees.
Curious, a little worried, Jess rose and brushed off her backside, then ambled in his wake. Treading softly, she moved between tall Douglas firs. A flash of red caught her eye. Madisun’s shirt. About to call out, she moved a couple of steps closer, then drew to an abrupt halt.
The girl was in a clinch. With Evan. Jess’s mouth dropped open and adrenaline coursed through her veins. She’d kill them. Both of them.
But then her senses sharpened. She heard choky sobs, saw how Madisun’s sleek dark head was burrowed into Evan’s shoulder, and how his hand was doing “there, there” pats on her back.
Jess sank down on her haunches, not wanting to intrude, yet wondering if she could help.
Finally, Madisun pulled away. “I’m so embarrassed.” She fumbled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose loudly.
“Nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve held up so well all morning. Guess you’ll really miss Petula.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“But?”
“I loved her, and I’m totally torn up about her dying. But it’s not just Pet, it’s . . . Oh damn, I’m never going to get out of here!”
What? Madisun was planning to go to university down in Vancouver.
