Jacob cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on me. “Sure. Uh-huh.” Moving away, he gave me another odd look before heading to Binky’s tether, undoing the rope, and rousing the dopey pony into a plod.
Dad held me back as Jacob guided the white horse around us toward the arena.
As Jacob went by me, his face mixed with disbelief, grudging respect, and a familiar tinge of worry.
Worry for who I truly was.
I’d revealed my strangeness.
And just like the adults, he’d judged me.
I guessed I wouldn’t be getting answers from him, after all.
My heart sank to my toes, and I just wanted to forget this day, this moment, this mistake.
With my hand in Dad’s, I followed the boy I no longer wanted to talk to and the pony I no longer wanted to ride into the arena.
CHAPTER FIVE
JACOB
* * * * * *
“NO, STOP THAT. God, how many times do I need to tell you—”
“You suck at teaching,” Hope grumbled as Binky ignored her commands to turn right and headed toward the triangle of barrels instead.
“Left leg and right rein. Otherwise, you’re gonna” —I slapped my forehead as the screech of metal met Binky’s chest—“crash.”
Hope bent in the saddle, lying over the pony’s neck as her hands stroked, searching for injury. “Oh, no. Poor thing! He ran into the barrel.”
“He didn’t. You did.” Storming over to her, I grabbed Binky’s bridle and marched him—with his tiny passenger—back to the centre of the arena. “Listen to me and collisions won’t happen.”
I wouldn’t tell her that Binky had done that deliberately. It was a trick of his to get out of lugging beginners around. Giving him a secret pat, we eyeballed each other, on the same wavelength about how annoying newbies were.
When I’d learned on Binky, I’d lasted one afternoon doing walking aids and tolerating the basics before I’d unclipped the lead rope that Mom had me hooked to, then kicked that fat little pony with my short stupid legs.
Binky had been younger then and up for an adventure just as much as I was.
I still remembered Dad’s shout as I galloped past him. He’d been building the fence and rail for the new arena, but instead of chasing after me like Mom did, he merely laughed, snagged my mom around the middle as she bolted behind me in panic, and let me make my own mistakes.
I’d like to say I stayed on for the entire gallop.
I didn’t.
Halfway through the meadow, Binky decided he was having way too much fun to share with me and bucked me off.
I’d landed in a thicket of wildflowers, winded and bruised but on such a high I felt drugged. When Dad appeared above me with his dark eyes glittering and hand outstretched, I’d prepared for a telling-off. Only, he’d hauled me up, checked me over, and ruffled my hair with a whispered, “Living up to your name, aren’t you, Wild One?”
I couldn’t remember what I’d said, but I’d been drunk off adrenaline and hated when Mom had caught up, huffing and puffing, running her hands down my arms and legs for broken bones.
Dad had coughed and cleared his throat, giving me a wink as he said sternly, “Don’t be so reckless again, Jacob. You hear me?”
I heard him, and I knew his command was purely for Mom’s benefit because after she assured herself I was in one piece, Dad and I walked back to the barn together while Mom went to wrangle Binky who had his head in the wildflowers.
He’d rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezing man to man. “I’m proud of you, Jacob. You’re not afraid to try new things but don’t forget that fear is sometimes the difference between life and death. Don’t ignore that voice when it’s important.”
“Let go of him.” Hope swatted my head with her small fingers, tugging on the reins and slamming me back into the present. “Please.”
I blinked as she flapped her legs in some imitation of asking the horse to move forward.
“By all means, try again.” I snickered at how bad she was. “Perhaps the twentieth try will be the one.”
“You’re so mean.” She stuck her tongue out, flapping her legs again.
“Not mean. Just pointing out the truth.”
“You could try helping me instead of telling me off all the time.”
“I am helping.” I crossed my arms as Binky decided the same as me—that her aids were shocking, and he was going to ignore them all—and promptly pawed the sand, looking for a nice place to roll.
Darting forward, I grabbed his bride again. “Oh, no you don’t.” Pulling him into a walk, I looked at her. “Close call and you don’t even know it. See? I am helping.”
“What? What was he about to do?” Her face whitened under her helmet. “Rear?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, he wasn’t going to rear. He was going to take you for a roll.” For dramatic effect, I added, “You could’ve been crushed.”
“Oh.” Hope’s eyes drifted to where her dad leaned on the railings, watching us and occasionally snapping photos. “Thank you…for not letting him crush me.”
She didn’t need to know if he had gone down, she would’ve just tipped out of the saddle. Leading her forward, I expected more attitude, but when she stayed quiet, I glanced back.
Her shoulders drooped lower the longer I led her around the arena. She looked dejected. Pissed off. Over it.
Guilt prodded me.
Clearing my throat, I searched for something to say. Normally, she was the one jabbering away. My gaze landed on the wooden bridge and barrels. “Eh, see all this junk in here?”
She bit her lip, looking at the flags and fake bull in the corner with barely any effort. “Yeah?”
“That’s for Working Equitation. Perhaps, when you can steer a bit better, you can have a go at an obstacle.”
I fully expected that promise to cheer her up. Working Equitation was awesome.
But it didn’t.
“Umm, ca-can I get off?” Her chin tucked, and she pulled on the reins instead of using her seat like I’d told her.
“What? Why?”
“Stop.” She pulled harder, then remembered her manners. “Please.”
I stopped walking, and Binky let out a soft sigh. Little asshole knew he’d won.
Without waiting for me to help her down, she swung her leg over the saddle and leapt before taking her other foot out of the stirrup.
She tumbled toward the ground.
Instinct made me leap forward and half catch her, half act as a landing pad as her weight tripped me sideways.
“Oof!” I crunched into the dirt with her on top of me.
“Oops!” Her knee caught me in places it shouldn’t, and her elbow jabbed my throat. “Sorry, I—”
“God’s sake. Stop squirming.” I clamped my hands on her shoulders, holding her in place while I made sure she wasn’t tangled with any tack and Binky was a safe distance away to shove her to her feet.
Helping her upward, I stood as she swatted at sand and dust on her no-longer-new jeans.
Arching my spine, working out the kink she’d left me with, my gaze trailed to something lacy and black left on the ground.
Scooping it up, I narrowed my eyes at the tatty piece of torn something or other.
Fast fingers snatched it from me, then stuffed it into her back pocket.
“What was that?” I dropped my hand slowly.
“Nothing.”
“It was something.”
“Forget it.” She stomped toward her dad, undoing her helmet and letting it swing from dejected fingers.
What the hell had gone wrong?
She’d been all over this thirty minutes ago…and now…she acted as if I’d forced her onto the damn horse.
I whistled for Binky who trailed after me without having to hold him. Together, we followed Hope while I did my best not to eavesdrop.
“Lace? What’s up?” Her dad put his phone into his pocket and went to open the gate to exit the arena. He grabbed h
er in a hug, pressing her face to his chest. “Something happen?”
Hope sighed heavily. “I suck.”
Ah! So that was what was going on.
“You don’t suck.” He chuckled, which was probably the worst thing he could do. I knew because it all made sense now.
Hope had been one of those.
The type of rider who watched so many programs and movies and dreamed about riding, they thought they’d hop on and it would be natural. That the horse would do what they wanted when they asked, and it would be a seamless bond between human and animal.
Silly girl.
“I do. I’m terrible. I don’t want to do this after all.” Hope tore herself out of her dad’s embrace. “It was stupid to come.”
“You waited a year to try horse riding. Don’t give up after a few minutes.” Her dad glanced at me lingering with Binky.
Hope shook her head vehemently. “Don’t care. I suck and want to leave.”
Her dad clucked his tongue. “Ah, now, everyone sucks when they first start.”
I groaned under my breath as he said yet another wrong thing.
I didn’t want Hope hanging around Cherry River, but I didn’t want to crush her dreams either.
I’d been semi-responsible for her disappointment.
I’d let her fumble around like a moron without giving her proper guidance.
This was my fault.
I wanted to keep my mouth shut and celebrate that she was about to leave, but the longer I watched her, the more guilty I became. So guilty, my stomach churned and the heavy presence that I always felt when I screwed up whispered down my back.
Dad hadn’t told me off often when he was alive, but his ghost was judging me now. Arms crossed, head shaking, reprimand bright in his dark gaze.
“Yeah, yeah.” I sighed at the sky. “I know.”
“Did you say something?” Graham looked up, worry etching his eyes as Hope brushed by him, her boots kicking dirt with frustration.
“Yeah, I did actually.” Grabbing Binky’s reins, I pulled them over his head and passed the worn leather to Graham. “Hold him for a sec.”
Without waiting for his reply, I jogged past him and caught up with Hope. “Giving up, huh?”
She glowered with angry green eyes. “Just realised horses aren’t for me.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Don’t swear.” Her hoity-toity nose rose. “Dad will hear you.”
“Don’t care. And I can swear. This is my home. My rules.”
“And now you get your home back, don’t you?” She sneered, no longer the sweet kid trying to be my friend. “We’re leaving.”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
“What?”
“Wait here.”
“Nuh-uh.” She crossed her arms, planting herself to the ground. “I want to leave. Right now.”
“Two minutes.” I held up two fingers, then took off toward the back meadow.
My legs stretched as fast as they could, chewing up the ground I’d raced over so many times before.
Aunt Cassie saw me charging past the barn, her hand raised then dropped, realising where I was going. “Jacob, no.” She shook her head. “Don’t.”
Mid-sprint, I merely shrugged and kept on running.
I bolted down the driveway, vaulted over a wooden gate, charged across the front small pasture and over another fence until finally, I slowed and snatched the rope halter off the ground where I’d tossed it last.
Forrest, my trusty roan who had mood swings like the devil and wings in his hooves, snorted at my sudden arrival. Prancing away from me, he didn’t like the blast of my nervous energy.
“Don’t be a dick.” I grabbed a handful of grass and lured him toward me. “Come on. Ten minutes. Then you can come back and stuff your face. Deal?”
He eyed me with a snide, almost exasperated look.
I chuckled, giving him a scratch as he let me loop the halter over his velvet nose and fasten it. “We’re a bit too alike, you and me. And that’s not a good thing.”
He let out a massive breath, his lips fluttering and green goo from mulched grass spraying my chaps. “Great. Thanks.”
Tossing the lead rope over his neck, I tied it back on itself to fashion basic reins, then fisted a handful of his mane. “Ready?”
Forrest side-stepped, already getting antsy.
“I take that as a yes.” Lurching myself upright, I folded over his bare back, then pushed upright.
The moment I found my centre, he took off.
Wind instantly howled in my ears as we went from zero to warp speed. Grass blurred, and the fence came closer and closer.
My thighs squeezed, my hands clutched rein and mane, and I kicked on the final stride, encouraging him to scale the obstruction, sailing us up and over as smooth as a cresting wave.
“Good boy.”
My praise meant everything, and his entire body shivered. He put his head down, activating more muscles to run faster.
Me and Forrest…we were an enigma. He’d come to Aunt Cassie to be broken in after other trainers had tried and failed. No one could get him to move forward. He’d just prop on two legs or scurry backward until he fell over or the rider hopped off.
Cassie had tried to fix him. Even Mom had had a go. But no one could get through to the mess of him.
He was never meant to be mine.
It’d happened by pure stupidity on my part.
I’d had a bad day at school. Dad had only been gone two months. I was sick of crying, sick of missing him, sick of worrying about Mom.
At three a.m., I’d found myself running from my demons, desperate to find somewhere to shut up the voices and grief inside my head, only to run into Forrest’s paddock.
He’d been called Speckles then.
He’d galloped away from me, and because of the rabid mood I was in, I’d chased him. Wanting him to be afraid of something, just like I was.
I was afraid of everything.
Dying.
Loving.
Family.
I chased him for hours until I finally had nothing left and collapsed jelly-legged in the grass. Dawn crested, and as the moon lost to the sun something amazing happened.
Forrest came toward me, nudged my panting, sweaty body, and didn’t leave my side until I was ready to sit up in my pyjamas and stroke his nose.
I patted him for ages before I hauled myself upright on aching bones, knowing I had to head home before Mom noticed I was missing. She’d have a breakdown if anything happened to me…especially after losing Dad.
Only, the horse followed me. He didn’t let me out of his sight.
By the time I got to the gate, he wuffled and nickered, and the loneliness in his eyes matched the loneliness in my heart.
And I couldn’t leave him.
I climbed the fence and waited for him to come close enough, then threw myself onto his back.
I fully expected him to buck me off.
Instead, his nose turned to snuffle my foot, his body twitched for command, and his ears stayed forward and attentive.
I’d squeezed my legs.
Bridleless, saddleless, fearless.
With no experience other than on a silly pony and no tack to control, I gave my life to the creature as we broke into a gallop.
No walking or trotting for us.
We ran.
Ran from things we didn’t fully understand. And unlike me, who was exhausted from chasing him all night, he had energy to burn.
So we did.
We flew around that paddock until the grass churned into mud with hoof prints.
I forgot about everything.
The demons in my head fell quiet.
But then Aunt Cassie and Mom found us, and I’d been grounded for a month. In the end, I’d offered up my entire lifesavings of pocket money to buy him because I overheard Aunt Cassie on the phone saying Speckles wasn’t suitable and would end up hurting someone.
They’d mentioned dog f
ood.
I’d told them I’d run away and never come back if they did.
The old owner accepted my piggy bank of change just to be rid of him.
And I’d found my only friend who helped remind me that school and the current crap I was living was only temporary. That soon, I would be a farmer full time, and we’d spend all day together.
“Git. Go on.” I growled. “Faster.”
He hauled his bulk to an insane speed, just as crazy as me.
I merely held on, allowing him to race.
I let him race because when I gave my very existence to him, I found the freedom I was missing. I wasn’t thinking about Dad or Mom or school or gossiping townsfolk.
All I thought about was grass and horse.
Forrest’s hooves thundered to the final fence blocking off the turnaround bay by the stables.
Aunt Cassie ran toward us in the distance, sprinting like she always did to try to prevent me from doing what I’d been doing for years. “Jacob. No!” She reached the gate, hauling it open. “Come this way. For the love of God!” She waved her arms, but Forrest was locked on a different location.
The fence at the highest point on the crest of the hill.
“Do it.” I flattened myself on his back, forced my legs long and low, held my breath, and died, lived, laughed, cried as he flew over the final fence, sharing his power with me as he clattered onto the pebbles, kicking up stones as I sat up and finally took control, bringing him to a trot, then a walk just in front of Hope.
Her jaw landed in the dirt. Her eyes bugged.
Leaping off, I grabbed her inert hand, wrapped it around the halter of my heavily breathing crazy horse, then vanished into the stable.
It only took a second to grab a Western saddle with a high horn and deep seat and the lunge line. Squinting in the sun, I was back outside and tossing the saddle onto Forrest before Hope had uttered a word.
Cinching the saddle into place, Forrest danced on the spot, not used to being so roughly tacked up—and without a brush—poor him. But he tolerated my snappy behaviour as I snatched the halter from Hope, clipped the lunge line onto it, then grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up.
“Wait, stop—” Her hands planted on my shoulders, fingernails digging deep as I shoved her into the saddle. My arms shook under her weight, struggling with how tall Forrest was.
The Son & His Hope Page 6
