by Andrews
“You fired the kid who’s going to be our new leader?”
“He was an incompetent, arrogant little jackass.”
We looked at each other for a beat and both burst out laughing,
“You’re so fucked,” I said.
*
I arrived home twenty-four hours later, threw my luggage into the hallway, grabbed my car keys, and headed for the barn, where Liz had promised to meet me. Not seeing her immediately, I hugged the horses, greeting them with kisses. Rune’s soft golden muzzle nestled into my neck, and she let out a deep, breathless nicker that sounded sensual in its welcome. “I think you missed me,” I said to the mare, but my eyes caressed Liz, who had suddenly appeared in front of me. Seeing her made me think about kissing her, and for a moment I stepped back against the stall door and just stared at her.
“Welcome home,” she said. I thought I saw her catch her breath. “Check out the goats,” Liz said in a sultry voice that made me let my breath out laughing. Only Liz could couple an erotic moment with the presence of goats. “Paula says goats have a calming effect.”
“Then I should have packed one in my luggage, because I’ve been anything but calm,” I said, staring into her eyes.
“Really?” she said, smiling and obviously pleased with herself.
I watched as the larger-than-average goats roamed through the barn chomping on everything in sight; they didn’t look like much of a sedative to me.
Paula, the barn owner, rounded a corner, forcing Liz and me to focus on Hlatur and Rune rather than each other. We took the horses out of their stalls and groomed them while Paula asked about my trip.
One goat walked right up to Hlatur and casually took several large bites of chest hair out of the poor horse. The goat had apparently been at this all day because so much chest hair was missing from Hlatur’s front that he looked like a moth-eaten raccoon coat.
“Goat, stop that!” I said sternly.
“Hlatur likes it,” Paula said placidly before Liz could speak.
I knew Hlatur didn’t like it, but that was the problem with being a renter: anyone could be evicted at a moment’s notice, which created tension in me about how to respond. As this thought ran through my head, the goat again gnawed away nonstop on Hlatur’s chest hair. The sight was distracting, to say the least.
“I don’t want Hlatur to hurt the goat,” Liz said. “And look what the goat is doing to Hlatur’s hair.”
“I think they’re okay,” Paula said nonchalantly, which was her way of letting us know that as far as she was concerned the goat could do whatever it wanted.
At that moment, a loud crunch was followed by several slow crunches. Right before our eyes, Hlatur had casually leaned over the hair-hungry goat and bitten off the end of his horn. Now Hlatur was chewing it up as if it were a giant waffle cone. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
I was frozen. Paula looked utterly shocked. Liz was silent.
“I think they grow back,” I said deadpan.
Paula whirled and left the barn. Liz and I giggled uncontrollably.
“Your horse has the funniest sense of humor!” I said, and then just as suddenly I added, “I missed you. I missed laughing with you.”
“Me too,” she said. I pulled her out of the main aisle into a side aisle and pushed her up against the exterior stall walls, kissing her madly. She wrapped her leg around mine and clung to me like Velcro. We were both breathing so heavily I didn’t know where we were going to take this on the cement in a horse barn, when I heard heels clacking along the floor and caught sight of the tip of Floie’s head coming toward us. She had obviously seen two people in very close contact. I pushed on Liz’s shoulder and she slid down the stall wall to the floor, giggling.
“Something wrong?” Floie kept approaching, and I wondered how disheveled I was and how much of Liz’s lipstick I had on my face.
“Could you stop right there!” I said with firm authority. Floie stopped. “To your left, back a little, right there, could you duck into that feed room for me and hand me Rune’s new halter. You’ll see it on the cabinet or the wall. I forget where I put it.”
“Why would it be in the feed room?” Floie looked confused.
“Because that’s where I left it.”
When Floie ducked into the feed room, I gave Liz her signal to make a dash for her car. She disappeared out of the barn as Floie came back with the news that there was no halter in the feed room.
Pointing to the stall door, I said, “You’re right, sorry. Forgot I put it back where it belongs.”
I stepped into Rune’s stall and gave her a big hug, wiping my face and lips on her mane, and Rune cut her eyes at me as if to say she knew what I was doing and didn’t appreciate being used as a napkin. “You owe me,” I told her and kissed her genuinely on her big jaw.
*
When Floie went back to her apartment I rang Liz, who was safely driving home in her car.
“I’ve saved a TV personality from scandal.”
“Come to my house tonight,” she said, her voice sensual.
“Now that would be scandalous. Can’t.”
“Won’t,” she said. “You can’t hold out forever. I will have you, Brice Chandler.”
“You have a problem—you have a construction worker.”
“I told you, I don’t.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“I had a lot of dinners, she kissed me…we never slept together.”
“I don’t believe that. She looked like a woman who had been slept with.”
“Not by me.”
“I have a proposition for you. The next time I see you, we’ll discuss it.”
“I hope it’s a sexual proposition.”
“Actually—it is.” I broke out in a large smile.
*
“You kissed her?” Madge asked, lighting a cigarette, which she only did when things were making her so nervous it was that or bite her nails off up to the elbow.
“I did,” I said in the same tone someone would use in admitting they’d run a red light.
“And…?” The question hung in the air like the anticipation of Christmas.
“It was fucking phenomenal!” I squealed and fell backward onto her couch, hugging the couch pillow to me.
“I warned you. I warned you, I war—”
“It was a kiss, that’s all.”
“If you sleep with that woman, you’d better plan to stay for life because you’ll never get away from her.” Madge lifted a finger towards the heavens.
“And what if I don’t want to get away?”
“Ring me in four years when she’s throwing shoes at you—you know, right now you’re still getting pelted with Donald Pliners. You’re getting to the age when it’ll soon be orthopedic oxfords. You want to stop before that happens.”
“You think she’s a four-year deal?” I sighed.
“I think she’s a deal—make it experimental. Break the fever, for God’s sake. You’re wearing me out.”
Chapter Twenty
The next afternoon, we drove out to the barn together, Liz and I, and the entire vehicle was filled with her perfume and a sea of hormones that almost made me dizzy. I pulled onto the dirt parking area next to the barn, noting Paula’s truck was gone, as was Floie’s car, and it appeared we were the only people within miles.
Liz unsnapped her seat belt and wrapped her arms around me, pinning me back in my seat and kissing me. Her mouth moved across my lips as if it longed for something and then found it in the swaying of my body, the tilting of my hips, the moaning of my soul, and the surrendering of my entire being to hers.
I pushed her away finally, realizing there was nothing I wouldn’t do in public if she stayed in my mouth one more second.
“Doesn’t someone like you, who can kiss like that, miss being kissed like that every morning and night?” she breathed into my mouth, and I unsnapped my belt, grabbed the door handle, and bolted out of the car.
“You’ve got to stop that or I w
ill shred your clothes right here,” I said, and headed for my horse.
“Or we can just take them off.” She wrapped her arms around me from behind and unzipped my riding pants, slipping her hand down the front.
I whirled away from her and redressed myself while jumping into the horse stall with my mare, putting her between us, giggling over literally being chased by Liz. “You’re not molesting me in the barn!” I said, insisting she occupy her time with her horse and get ready to ride.
“Only if you swear you and I will spend the night together after we ride,” she said, blocking the stall door. I looked into those fabulous blue eyes and melted into a pool of hopelessness. I stared at her breasts. I really want this woman. And like someone who’d been too long on a strict diet, I succumbed to chocolate.
“I’m waiting for your answer,” she said, interrupting my erotic thoughts.
“Yes,” I said and smiled at her.
“Yeees,” she sighed and gave me an absolutely sizzling smile. And with the bargain struck, we both returned to our horses.
*
Rune stood perfectly still while I saddled her and whispered to her that I was about to get involved with Liz Chase. While appearing exceedingly bored by that piece of information, Rune nonetheless indicated she might tolerate my riding her by further standing still as I climbed on board and shifted in my seat.
Liz was riding ahead of me as I gave Rune the signal to walk. She loved to walk out fast, which I liked about her, but quickly the walk turned into a tolt that was a little too fast. I slowed her down, but she was go-ey and irritable. In fact, Rune always felt like a revving engine under me, an engine that wanted to shift into a higher gear.
We headed toward the west end of the paddock at a walk, and when I said a low “whoa,” she came to a full stop. I relaxed, rocking back slightly in the saddle, and dropped my hands to my lap. As the white paddock gate swung open just slightly in the wind, I felt Rune tense up, then her back end rolled up under her, and she sprang forward.
I gathered myself up in an instant and pulled back on the reins, but she jolted forward, then reared up with eyes wild and mouth open. She was no sooner up in the air than she was down again, taking a sharp right. I pulled her head toward her flank to keep her from taking off down the long pasture, but she spun in the direction I pulled, and the centrifugal force of her turn threw me off her left side. I heard Liz scream as I fell to the ground with a body slam that knocked me out.
I vaguely remember the excruciating pain on the left side under my arm. I remember the sound of Rune’s breathing as she stood over me for a brief second, her fit momentarily subsided, and Liz screaming my name. I was semiconscious on the ground.
Heal my horse, I ask as I lie injured, not knowing if I will live or die. The golden animal lies beside me, having nearly run herself to death to keep us both out of the hands of my enemies, but they overtook us. The queen is safely away, but I am pierced through my chest, my horse injured beside me. The woman in the white robe has come out of nowhere to minister to me. She lays her hands on my horse and the horse’s breathing becomes normal. And the horse stands up and shakes itself and is healed. My own fate still lies in the balance.
“Brice, can you move?” I could hear the terror in Liz’s voice, which sounded muffled and far away.
“Just leave me here a minute,” I whispered.
She disappeared and returned with ice packs, sliding them under my back.
I lay there until that part of my body numbed, and I could hear her dialing my chiropractor on her cell phone. I don’t know how I got up. I was having trouble breathing, just like the horse in my dream. When I took in a breath, a sharp pain exploded on the left side of my chest. I crawled to the paddock fence on my knees, unable to use my left arm to pull myself up, and Liz tried to find a place where she could hold on to me without my screaming.
Once up, I dragged myself to the car and she loaded me in. Every little bump in the road was like a knife in my body, and by the time we’d made the forty-minute trip to the doctor’s office, my body had taken on the shape of the front seat. Straightening out and walking was excruciating, but I finally made it through the office doors and to his chiropractic table.
“Don’t try to lie down,” he said. “We need to X-ray your chest.”
My ribs hurt so badly that I was almost oblivious to the pain in my back and neck and hip, the large gash on my shoulder, and the fact that my head was ringing. My theory was that if my lung were punctured, I wouldn’t be breathing well, and my breathing was getting better. I was going home, not to the ER, and the chest X-rays confirmed that my ribs were not broken.
“I won’t ride that mare again,” I said, choking tearfully on the words and my physical pain. “It’s not worth it.”
A part of me wondered about the timing. Did I do this on purpose? This accident definitely postpones a physical relationship with Liz. But why would I want to do that? Why does Rune do what she does—to avoid being ridden, to avoid being controlled by someone?
I spent the night staring at the ceiling moaning in pain and thinking. You can’t swim across the ocean if you won’t let go of the dock. So why won’t I let go? Be honest with yourself! I demanded when I felt myself drifting away from the issue. What are you so fucking afraid of? I asked of the bedroom walls.
In the silence, I thought I heard my own voice say to me, Liz is so perfect. To have a relationship with her and then to have it fail—that would be different than all the other relationships. That would be—heartbreaking—and the heart would be mine. I felt a tear gathering at the edge of my eye. There, goddamn it, I’ve said it.
After work the following night I went out to the barn and had Liz saddle Rune for me, though she protested mightily. My ribs hurt so badly I couldn’t lift a blanket, much less a saddle, but I was determined to settle something in my mind.
“You can’t live alone out on the prairie, you’d kill yourself,” she said, girthing up my mare. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re on pain pills. You hurt so badly you can’t sleep, and you’re out here acting like you think you’re a PBR champion!”
“Life is short, horse,” I said to Rune, ignoring Liz. “I own ranch land now and I want to ride my horse across my land and return in one piece. I don’t know if that’s what you want, Rune, but I’m going to get on you. And if you don’t want me to ride you, throw my ass down in the dirt, and that will be my sign that you’ll just live out your life as a brood mare or as a hood ornament. Otherwise, ride me well and that will let me know that you want to be my horse. It’s up to you.”
“Good God, what are you doing, Brice!” Liz wailed as I hauled myself up into the saddle, silent tears streaming down my cheeks from the pain of the effort.
I lay across Rune’s neck at first, having to gather the strength to sit upright, then caught my breath and tried to relax, waiting for Rune’s answer, as I pointed her toward the end of the small outdoor arena. I knew one thing: whatever happened, I couldn’t be in more physical or emotional pain. Rune moved with grace and poise, one ear back listening to me.
When I lowered my voice and whispered, “Whoa,” she stopped without so much as a tug on the reins. It was an absolutely beautiful ride, and she signaled me with every careful step that she didn’t want to do anything that would upset me. She wanted me to know that she wanted to be my mare. We had the beginnings of a new relationship.
It worked because I stopped trying to control her by force. I did it through mutual understanding and cooperation. I realized in that moment that Paula was right. I had been the problem all along: not illness, lameness, or poor barn help. It all boiled down to respect and trust. Did my horse respect me and trust me, and did I respect and trust my horse, because that’s what steered and stopped an eight-hundred-pound horse, not two little leather reins that could snap in a heartbeat. Respect and trust came only if we were in sync—heart to heart, and mind to mind.
“Will you please get off, Brice,” Liz pleaded as I
pulled up in front of her, smiling, as if this horse and I had just waged war and conquered an unspeakable enemy.
“Yes,” I said and slid down, nearly passing out from the pain.
Bending to look into my mare’s eyes, I started to thank her for the wonderful ride when I saw something deep inside her steady gaze. A chill ran up my entire body, making me shake as I remained locked in her look. The horse was clearly communicating with me, telling me I was starting to understand. I blinked and she ducked her head as if refusing to tell me more, leaving me wondering if she had really told me anything at all or if I had imagined it. I slowly patted her neck and kissed her soft muzzle, sagging against the fence rail in agony as Liz approached to lead her away and put her up for me.
“Brice Chandler, you are the most stubborn damn woman I know!” I could hear Liz shouting, but I didn’t care. I was happy.
I thought I heard her mutter, “At least there’s one female she’ll go to any length to ride.”
I had to have imagined that.
*
Carlton Daniels, kid CEO, could have been my son, had I allowed him to live to be twenty-six, which I would not have, had I known he would grow up to be Carlton. He rented a cherry red convertible Maserati a week before his arrival and had it delivered from Houston, a city over two hundred miles away, for his big entrance as our new leader. He wore a leather bomber jacket, fighter-pilot shades, jeans with holes in the knees, and a fifty-thousand-dollar wristwatch. Every secretary in the place swooned, and every male executive over forty analyzed what in his wardrobe would ever again be cool enough to wear to the office.
Carlton came to town to meet with engineering because the tech-world was his love, and by noon on his first day, a swarm of men in short-sleeved shirts with pocket protectors surrounded him. It was like watching Tom Cruise signing autographs at a backhoe convention.
When he finished parading through the building, he joined Jack, Hugh, me, and several other key execs in the conference room.
