by Meg Collett
That same little flippy part in her stomach was back in full force. Of its own will, her mouth opened, lulled by the magic of Matthew’s careful, searching kiss. Gently, he traced the tip of his tongue along her lips, which ignited a heat deep in her bones. She slid her hands up his chest, her fingers wrapping around the fabric of his shirt.
He was the one who pulled away, and Alice leaned into the space between them, aching for some kind of contact again.
“I like you,” he repeated, shrugging casually.
“You liked me before,” Alice said, straightening back from him and looking away. She felt shaky and weak, but her mind was recovering, telling her this was dangerous. “I knew you had a crush on me. But you liked that Alice. Not this one.”
“You’re wrong. I think I like this one better.”
“That’s stupid.”
His crooked grin was back. “I’m a pretty smart guy.”
“Clearly not. I’m hideous.” She smiled broadly, tugging at the scars along her face, but the effect was lost on Matthew. He took in every inch of her, every flaw, drinking her in like a desperate man.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
The smile dropped away and she shook her head. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Ah.” Matthew gripped his chest above his heart. “The words every man wants to hear from the girl he’s liked forever.”
Alice looked down at the barn aisle to hide her grin. When she’d recovered, she glanced back up. “Can we get back to my favor?”
“Sure thing, Third Degree. What’s up? Got a dead body you need me to bury?”
Alice blinked, her heart contracting. Her shoulders curved and she slumped, defeated. “Sort of.”
The humor quickly fell away from Matthew’s face. She told him what she needed, and he listened, his eyes seeming to absorb every flicker of pain across her face. When she was finished, he nodded.
“Of course, Alice,” he said simply. “Of course.”
* * *
“It’s ready.”
Alice looked up, her hand trailing along the closed lid of the worn wooden box. She’d pulled it from the tack room’s dark back corner, where she’d hid it weeks ago. “Okay. This is ready too.”
Matthew loaded the tack trunk into the back of his truck. His hands and jeans were covered in dirt; sweat caused his shirt to cling to his back, and a ring of salt lined the fabric of his hat. He smelled like the earth.
Together, they got into the truck and drove to the back field, where the gate stood open. The horses in the other field watched them with interest; the palomino mare was the only one to come over to the joining fence line and inspect the happenings.
Matthew slowly drove the truck up a small hill where a grouping of trees stood. Underneath an ancient willow with swaying vines was a freshly dug hole big enough to fit the tack trunk. Matthew had been working on it all morning. He unloaded the trunk as soon as they stopped.
Alice watched him carry the heavy thing without complaint. She knew it was hefty; it contained her and Rosie’s entire life together. Everything that hadn’t been in the trailer during the accident. Everything that hadn’t burned. Everything that hadn’t died. The muscles along Matthew’s back strained as he lowered the box into the gaping hole. It settled with a heavy thud.
When he straightened, he stretched out his back and looked over at her. He was waiting to take the next cue from her, but she didn’t really know either. She sighed. “Guess we should cover it up now, huh?”
“Guess so,” Matthew said simply. “You ready for that?”
Alice nodded and grabbed a second shovel that she’d insisted Matthew bring. She refused to stand by and do nothing while the trunk was buried. If she didn’t help, she was worried she might throw herself down in that hole too.
They worked for a while in silence. Matthew moved slowly, dropping small piles of dirt into the hole to match Alice’s pace. Eventually, they weren’t hearing the thwack of dirt hitting the wooden lid. It was dirt tumbling onto dirt, slowly filling.
This wasn’t goodbye for Alice. This wasn’t some great healing. Actually, it was probably the hardest thing she’d ever done, the saddest point in her life. This was finally admitting that she didn’t need Rosie’s things anymore. Her special leg wraps, bell boots, barn halter with engraved nameplate, favorite bridles, and work saddle. This was finally having a place for visiting and mourning, a little spot on the earth for Rosie’s memory.
It was also the acknowledgment that only one of them had died that day on the road. Alice knew it was wrong to treat her father like a dead man; seeing him the other day had proved that. He was still with her, and she needed to go see him again. It was finally time to stop mourning for all three of them when she thought about Rosie.
“This is a good spot,” Alice said quietly, thinking out loud. “As good a resting spot as any.”
“It’s really nice, Alice.”
“She never refused anything that I asked of her,” she said, thinking of Rosie. Matthew knew who she was talking about without having to ask. “She hated getting wet, but she’d cross a creek without pausing if I wanted her to. She’d do anything for me.”
“I remember the first rodeo I saw you two at. You were about to run the barrels, and Rosie was outside the arena, stirring up a dust storm. She was so excited, so spirited. You gave her one good kick and pointed her toward the gates, and she just took off, turning you two into a blur.”
Alice smiled. “Sometimes it was all I could do just to stay on her when she got like that.”
“You’re a great rider. Better than I ever was. Not like that’s saying much.”
“She was easy to ride.” Alice shrugged. “Smooth as butter, sweet as pie.”
“She loved you.”
Bowing her head, Alice blinked away the tears, her eyes on the hole that was almost filled by now. “I love her.”
“You gave her a good life, Alice. No one can take that away from you.”
The tears flowed freely, but she looked up at Matthew anyway. He was maybe the only person in the whole world who she’d let herself cry in front of. “Pretty silly to miss a horse this much, huh?”
Matthew shook his head, his expression grave. “We both know she was more than just a horse to you. She represented a whole part of your life and the relationship with your father. She was a piece of your soul and so much more, Alice. That’s a lot to miss every day.”
“Every second,” Alice amended.
Chapter Eight
True to his promise, Matthew hadn’t listed the palomino mare for adoption. And true to her word, Alice had gone through the necessary steps to officially adopt the mare, including giving Matthew a one-dollar bill. By the time a couple more weeks had passed, most of the remaining herd was healthy and ready to find homes, which meant it was time to start letting potential owners come out and look at them.
Alice had just finished turning the horses out when Matthew pulled into the drive. She did most of the work now with Matthew helping out when he was around. Her extra effort really helped him; he didn’t look so tired all the time.
“Morning,” he called down the aisle, his voice brisk in the cool, late autumn air.
“Hey.” Alice swept the last of the hay scrapes into a pile and quickly scooped it up to be dumped into the wheelbarrow.
“Can I help with anything?” he asked, looking around.
“Everything is done.”
Alice couldn’t clean a stall as fast as she used to, but she got them done pretty quickly now. Since the horses were mostly recovered, Matthew had separated them into individual stalls. Even with the doubled workload, Alice normally had everything done before lunchtime.
Matthew pushed his hat up his forehead, looking pleased. “That’s good. A family is coming out to look at Scratchy.”
Scratchy was one of the smaller horses. He was technically considered a pony because he was only fourteen hands tall. They’d called him Scratchy because he was const
antly rolling in the field or rubbing some other itch on his body. He was sweet and actually pretty chubby now that he was healthy. Matthew planned to cut back on his grain to keep the little guy from getting too fat.
“That’s good,” Alice said, already walking out of the barn. “I’ll get him from the field.”
“I can do it,” Matthew called after her.
“Already doing it.”
They spent the next couple of hours getting the pony ready. After a bath and combing, he looked pretty darn cute. His mane and forelock were still bushy as ever—and getting puffier as it dried—but his copper coat gleamed. Alice scratched his neck in his favorite itchy spot and grinned. It was a good feeling to see these horses recovered and ready to find homes where they’d be taken care of and loved.
Matthew met her eyes, smiling back as if he knew what she was thinking. They hadn’t spoken about their kiss, nor had they repeated it. But many times since then, she’d caught Matthew looking at her in the same way he had that night, as if he was thinking about kissing her again. Just as often, Alice found her thoughts wandering to the memory of his lips and how surprisingly soft they’d been. Even now, she was thinking of them. She heaved a sigh.
Tucker barked just as they heard the sound of a car on the drive. “Okay, let’s do this,” Matthew said, clapping his hands together. “Be good, Scratchy.”
“No nipping,” Alice told the pony, rubbing his little nose. She licked her hand and tried to slick down his forelock, pulling the hair down flat between his ears. No luck.
She followed Matthew outside, leaving Scratchy to stand patiently in the crossties of the barn aisle. Outside, a family got out of their SUV. The first one to hit the ground and hurry around the car was a little girl, about ten, with her hair in a messy braid down her back. She wore jeans tucked into pink cowgirl boots and a slightly smudgy T-shirt underneath a puffy purple jacket. She already had treats in her hand, the brand-new bag in the other.
“Hello!” she said brightly, skidding to a stop in front of Matthew and Alice.
“Hey, there. You must be Torah,” Matthew responded, offering his hand to shake. The girl juggled her bag of treats and shook his hand formerly.
“I’m here to buy that pony.”
Just then, her parents walked up, their eyebrows raising at their daughter’s matter-of-fact words. “Let’s see him first, T,” her mom laughed. She shook hands with Matthew. “I’m Torah’s mom, Addison. This is my husband, Teller. Thanks for meeting with us today.”
Matthew beamed warmly. “Thanks for coming out. This is Alice.” He stepped aside and gestured toward her. “She owns the farm.”
“Nice to meet you, Alice,” Addison said. Her husband nodded politely at Alice. Neither of their eyes lingered too long on her face, but she still felt their careful, quick glances.
“What happened to your face?” Torah asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Torah Miller!”
“No, it’s fine.” Alice stepped forward with a smile. “I was in a bad accident, and my skin was burnt.”
“Oh.” Torah’s eyes went wide. “Did it hurt?”
“Only a little. Are you ready to meet Scratchy?”
“Yeah! I brought treats. Does he like peppermint flavor? I couldn’t decide what kind to get. I have carrot flavor too, but I tried one of the peppermint and I liked it, so I figured he would too. Why is he called Scratchy? That’s an odd name, but I like it. Do you ride?”
“I used to,” Alice said, smiling as she motioned for the girl to follow her inside the barn.
“Oh!” Torah paused in the barn aisle, her eyes wide as she took in all of Scratchy’s glory. His ears pricked at the rustle of the treat bag. “He looks like a Scratchy.” She turned to her parents, who had walked into the barn with Matthew. “I want him. Like, really bad.”
“Why don’t you give him some treats and ask Miss Alice if you can brush him first?” Torah’s mom offered.
Nodding thoughtfully, Torah stepped forward, putting her little hand underneath the pony’s mouth. He devoured the treats in one gobble and bumped his nose against her chest, looking for more. The little girl giggled and dug around in her bag for another handful.
When Scratchy was close to foundering on peppermint treats, Alice stepped forward, handing the girl a curry comb. “We can brush him for a bit if you like.”
“Yeah!”
After carefully sealing up her treat bag and setting it aside, Torah brushed down Scratchy. She found his itchy spots fast and laughed when he craned his neck into her brush, his lips twitching in bliss.
“If you want,” Matthew said quietly to her parents, “she can ride him. We’ve had riders coming out and working all the horses, so we know they’re safe. Scratchy is the quietest one of them all.”
Addison nodded. “That would be great. We have her saddle in the car.”
The next twenty minutes were spent in the arena with Torah trotting around on Scratchy. She was a solid little rider with a great seat. Her helmet jiggled on her head as she posted along with the pony’s choppy gate. Her little legs bounced at his round belly.
“Give him a good kick!” Alice called, feeling an overwhelming happiness as she watched the little girl and pony circle around her. She stood in the middle of the arena to coach the pair.
With a heavy grunt, Scratchy lifted into a canter, his short legs quick but sure beneath him. Torah’s face split apart into the biggest grin that Alice had ever seen. Clearly having the time of her life, Torah urged him to go faster, but Scratchy just plugged along, circling Alice like he’d done this his whole life.
Half an hour later, they practically had to pry Torah off his back. Alice helped her unsaddle and brush him down. They sprayed him off before turning him back out into the field. Torah watched him go, her hands coated in horse slobbers from the ten other treats she’d given him before letting him go.
Alice watched Torah, standing there with her tiny pink boot propped on the lowest board of the fence and her arms crossed under her chin so that she peered between the slats. Her eyes held the deepest kind of love for that little pony already. She watched him roll in the grass, kicking his stubby legs in the air, like it was the greatest show on earth. Her parents were goners; this girl was a lifer. She would always have one foot in the stirrup.
There was a special kind of love between a girl and her horse. It was the purest kind of love, in Alice’s opinion. It’s before boys and cars and high school, when a little girl’s life is measured in delights like galloping across a field, blue ribbons, and slobbery kisses. It’s a love defined not by wins and losses, babies and mortgages, but by the moments staring into deep brown eyes and knowing in your heart that your horse understands you better than anyone else. That’s the love of a girl and her pony.
“Where did you find these horses?” Torah’s dad asked Matthew. Alice only halfway listened to the grownup conversation. Her heart was with the little girl watching her new pony.
“They were a rescue. My practice received the call, but Alice offered her farm to rehab them. We were lucky. Their medical issues were mostly superficial. Most of them, like Scratchy, will never show any signs of abuse.”
Addison shook her head. “I just don’t understand how people can do such a thing.”
“It’s very sad.”
The silence stretched out until Teller asked, “So they’re really free?”
Matthew pushed up his hat and scratched his forehead. “Legally, we have to exchange a dollar, but they’re free to a good home. We just want what’s best for the animal.”
“How can you afford that?”
“Alice,” Matthew said with a shrug. “She foots the bill right now.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Addison said to Alice.
Alice nodded her head, not knowing what to say. She didn’t think it was all that generous. She wouldn’t have done anything better with the money, and really, these horses had helped her more than she’d ever helped them. Watc
hing Torah floating on a cloud of pony bliss made it so much more special for Alice. This was exactly what she needed, to see a little girl’s love for her horse again.
“Would you be willing to come out and give Torah and Scratchy some riding lessons?” Addison asked. “Matthew mentioned you were a barrel racer. That’s Torah’s number-one dream.”
The question took Alice by surprise, but she didn’t need to think about it for long. “Sure. But I don’t think Scratchy will be that good at the barrels,” she said, laughing when she thought about how slow the pony went today.
Teller held up his hands, grinning. “That’s totally fine by me. I want her on the slowest, safest animal possible.”
“My dad used to say that too.” The words were a surprise, and Alice quickly looked away, frowning at herself. Her thoughts went back to her dad sitting in the care facility.
Matthew redirected the conversation, outlining the adoption process. To collect herself, Alice walked over to the fence where Torah stood. She leaned against the rails, following the little girl’s gaze out over the field until she saw the palomino mare. As if the mare sensed the attention, she looked up, her ears pricking in Alice’s direction.
“Is that your horse?” Torah asked, looking up at Alice.
“Yeah. She’s mine.”
“Do you ride her?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Torah paused, thinking over Alice’s answer for a long moment. “I think you should. She looks like a nice horse.”
“Maybe one day.”
Torah nodded, satisfied with that answer. “We could ride together.”
“I would like that.”
Later, after arrangements were made to drop off Scratchy at the Miller’s farm that weekend, the family left, spitting dust behind their SUV. Matthew wrapped his arm around Alice’s shoulders and squeezed. “Did that little girl remind you of someone?” he asked with a wink.
“Maybe.”
“I bet you were just like her when you got your first pony.”
