Breaking the Reins

by Juliana Haygert

  Jimmy was putting everything away after the last riding class when I entered the stable.

  He halted in front of the tack room’s door, holding a couple of bridles. “Everything all right?”

  I buried my hands in the pocket of my jeans and averted my gaze. “Sure.”

  “Hmm, it doesn’t look like it,” he said. “Mr. Bennett has been around more than usual this past week, and you’ve been way too quiet and reclusive. It ain’t your style.”

  “I’m … worried about my father, that’s all.”

  He nodded then disappeared into the tack room. I ended up helping him finish things up, and after trying to make me talk again, he went home.

  And I turned my attention to Argus.

  He stood in the center of his stall, head down, white coat dull, muscles slim, and his scars and wounds too apparent.

  A pang assaulted my heart. Poor horse. He deserved much better than what I was offering him. He could be beautiful, he could be strong, and he could be healthy, if he had the right caretaker. Definitely, I wasn’t it.

  I stepped into his stall, and placed a few strawberries on the bucket over the closed lazy Susan. “You like these, don’t you?” His ears shot up. I smiled, but it was a sad, defeated smile.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and searched for animal control’s number. I knew I had it somewhere in there. Argus turned to me as I pressed the call button. This was the right thing to do. I would tell Officer Michael that it wasn’t working and that Argus could remain here until they found some other horse whisperer to send him to. I could help with the search if it would help make things go faster. He deserved better than me. I would convince Officer Michael to give him to someone else. I just … I couldn’t deal with this anymore.

  Someone answered the call.

  “Hi, I’m Han—”

  “Hannah!” Eric’s voice boomed from the stable's entrance, and I recoiled, dropping my phone. He marched to me, his eyes raging, his teeth gritted, one of his hands in a tight fist, and the other brandishing a magazine in the air. “Look at this!”

  He shoved the magazine in my face. It was The Polo World, and Leo was on the cover, sitting on a fake throne, holding a big smile. The headline read: The new number one in the world.

  Oh.

  Shit.

  With a growl, Eric threw the magazine across Argus’s stall, causing the horse to flinch and neigh. I scurried out of there before he could hurt me without meaning to. Not that it did any good, because the rage shining in Eric’s eyes told me I would be hurt out here too.

  He paced in front of me. “Who does he think he is? He can’t waltz in here and mess with my life. Everything was going so well until he showed up. He charms the people in my club, stares at my woman like a creep, wins our match, and steals my title. What’s next? He’s gonna come in here and steal you too?”

  I gaped, unsure what to say. I didn’t want to comfort him or tell him he was exaggerating, because, well, I didn’t want to comfort him ever again. Honestly, I was hoping someone, not necessarily Leo, would come in here and save me.

  My dream went as far as hoping that I could trust this someone, so the rest of the world wouldn’t know what had occurred here.

  Eric held my arm and pulled me close. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  The force of his grasp increased. “Are you? I don’t think you are. I think you want that Latin scum to be your Prince Charming, coming to your rescue on a white horse.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play games with me. I know you’ve been flirting with him.”

  “What?”

  He tossed my back into the stall's wood paneling. “You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t see you staring back at him?”

  “I … I don’t kn—”

  His fist met my face.

  I cried as pain burst in my cheek, my brain rattling inside my skull. My legs gave out, but Eric held me up, clasping both my elbows, his fingers sinking into my skin. “Bitch. That’s what you are.” He pulled his fist back, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

  Argus kicked the stall door I hadn’t locked, pushing it open, and trotted to us.

  “What the …?”

  Argus reared, his front legs aiming at Eric. With wide eyes and open mouth, Eric let go of me and retreated a few steps.

  Snorting, Argus kept advancing toward Eric, who kept retreating.

  “Stupid horse,” Eric shouted. He caught a whip from the wall and swatted it in the air, trying to keep Argus distant.

  Argus came at him again, and Eric wacked the whip on his neck.

  “No!” I cried.

  With renewed rage, Argus trotted forward and raised his legs on Eric, who smacked the whip across the horse’s legs.

  Argus whined when his hooves hit the ground, and he crumbled to the ground.

  “God, no,” I whispered.

  Eric looked at me, his eyes filled with rage. “I’m going, but just because I need to. I’m leaving for the tournament tomorrow.”

  Growling, he turned and stalked away.

  I sagged to the ground.

  My face throbbed, the pounding spread down my neck. I grunted, wishing I had enough strength to get the first aid kid and check on Argus, and then crawl to the house, grab an ice bag, and loads of ibuprofen.

  I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened, but all thoughts escaped me when Argus inched back to me and lay beside me, whining. Thin red lines adorned his neck and his legs. He didn’t touch me, but we were only a couple of inches apart, which showed me how much he cared. Crap, he had been my white horse and saved me. Who needed Prince Charming?

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He was broken.

  I was broken.

  But perhaps we only needed to give in to each other to be saved.

  My phone rang from inside Argus’s stall, and I let it. It was probably Eric, and I couldn’t bear to think of him right now.

  I needed this. Argus and me. Quiet, side by side, just … here.

  The phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing.

  Eric wouldn’t be this insistent. Or would he? Hmm, what if it was my mother calling from the hospital? Fighting the pain that sparked all over my face and neck and shoulders, I crawled into Argus’s stall, grabbed my phone, and answered it.

  “Miss Taylor? This is Officer Michael. I recognized your number. Anything wrong with Argus?”

  I stared into Argus’s eyes. For a second, I considered telling him Argus was injured, but shoved that idea out of my head.

  “No, officer. I was actually calling you to let you know we’re making progress.”

  “That’s great!” he exclaimed.

  When I ended the call, I saw there was a brand new message.

  You better behave while I’m away. I won’t tolerate any wrong moves from you. If you think I’m bad now, you are mistaken. I can be much, much worse and I don’t think you want to see that. Love, Eric.

  This man, this creep, bastard, sicko that had hit me wasn’t my boyfriend. No, I didn’t know this man. Once he was back from his trip, I would break things off with him, even if he broke my entire body.

  ***

  “Come on, boy.” I leaned over the rail and spied into the bucket on the lazy Susan. The strawberries were still there. “You have to eat something.”

  Jimmy came back from his lunch break and stared at me. “I thought you were going to stay in bed all day.”

  “Me too,” I muttered.

  I did spend all Sunday and Monday in bed, with an ice pack on my face and ibuprofen in my system. The only time I left my bed was to check on Argus in the evening, after all riding groups and classes were gone. The horse had been in the same position he was now: curled in the right back corner of his stall, his head down, his back to me.

  This morning, Jimmy knocked on my door until I scrambled out of bed, but I told him I wasn’t feeling well.

  “You haven’t b
een feeling well often lately. Is there anything wrong, Miss Taylor?” he asked.

  I told him I was tired, and closed the door before he could take a good look at my face. Thankfully, the black bruise on my cheek was mostly gone now, and I could conceal it with makeup.

  Jimmy walked up to me and stood by my side, his eyes on Argus. “When I got here yesterday morning he was in that exact position. I closed the front gate and opened his stall, taunting him to go stretch his legs in the arena, but he didn’t move.” He turned to me, frowning. “I did notice he has a new bruise on his neck, though. What happened, Miss Taylor?”

  I shook my head, not sure what to say. I almost told him I had done that, but I didn’t want Jimmy thinking I was now being violent toward Argus. So, I went with my next idea.

  “I was working on him on Saturday, and he advanced on me. Eric was here and used the whip to defend me. If he hadn’t done that, Argus would have stomped on me.” My stomach churned with disgust. I hated lying to him.

  “Oh.” Jimmy’s face fell. “I’m glad Mr. Bennett was here to save you, but unfortunately, Argus is more withdrawn now.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I don’t know what to do, Jimmy. I can’t let Officer Michael come and take him.”

  Jimmy put his arm around my shoulders. “You know what I think, right?”

  I groaned, letting my head fall on his shoulder. “I know.”

  “Whatever happen between the two of you was so bad that you can’t ask Mr. Fernandes for help again?”

  With wide eyes, I pushed away from him, my heart racing. “Who said anything happened between us?”

  Jimmy chuckled. “Even if you’re too blind to see it, I saw it, Miss Taylor. And I think Mr. Fernandes saw it too. The connection between you two. The way you two worked together. Even the chemistry.”

  Heat spread through my cheeks. “Jimmy!”

  “What? I’m an old man now, but I was young once, and I know what those gooey eyes meant.”

  “Gooey eyes?” I snorted. “Jimmy, stop it. You’re saying that only because you never really liked Eric.”

  He shrugged, with a you-know-it grin. “Perhaps.”

  “See? I knew it.”

  Then he was serious again. “I can imagine what happened that made you push him away, Miss Taylor,” he said, causing the heat on my cheeks to increase. “But you should think of Argus and push your pride away for a while. Argus needs Mr. Fernandes’s help.”

  I glanced at Argus. He was so still, so thin, he looked like a corpse. I shuddered. “Even if I gave in and agreed to ask for his help again, he’s probably in Switzerland for a tournament. And usually these tournaments go on for two weeks or longer.”

  “Oh. That ain’t good.”

  I shook my head, suddenly wishing there wasn’t a tournament at the moment. “Nope. It isn’t.”

  ***

  Later that afternoon, I headed to the hospital. I hadn’t been here since my father was transferred to a private room.

  I held my breath as I entered the room.

  My father was sleeping, an IV needle pushed into his arm, a couple of other wires around his bicep and on his chest. According to our last phone conversation, my mother said he was out of the danger zone, but not completely out of the woods. He was still unconscious most of the time.

  I approached his bed. He was thin as a stick. His skin was chalky white, his hair and beard overgrown. He looked … old and weak. I ran my fingertips over the back of his hand, wishing I could give him an IV of pure strength.

  Quietly, I sat on the love seat next to my mother, who was also sleeping on a sort of comfortable looking reclining armchair. Poor woman. I bet she never left his side other than to go home, take a shower, and eat something.

  Hilary stepped into the room, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and some pastries. Her blond hair was tied into a braid, and she wore a cute orange summer dress.

  “Oh, hi,” she said in hushed tones, placing the tray over a table. “I didn’t know you were coming or I would have asked for another coffee.”

  “That’s okay,” I whispered. She took her cup and sat beside me. “How are things over here?”

  She stared at me, her expression closed. “Where have you been?”

  I frowned and considered lying. Then, I realized I didn’t need to lie about everything. “Eric and I are having problems.”

  “And your owner didn’t let you come visit your father?”

  I flinched at the word owner. He wasn’t my owner. He was my abuser. Tears filled my eyes. “I hate that you call him that.”

  “Well, it does look like it.”

  “Hil, please, I don’t want to argue with you too. I’m tired of arguing.”

  She shifted her gaze to our father. “He’s … better, I guess. At least he’s out of the rabbit hole. The doctor said that he’ll probably need another surgery. Something about fixing his lung or whatever, but other than that, it’s a waiting game.”

  “I wish we could do more.”

  “Me too.” She sipped from her cup thoughtfully, then faced me. “Mr. Clarkson asked about you yesterday.” Joel Clarkson was my father’s right hand. He had been working with my father on the breeding farm for over fifteen years. “He’s going to call you, I think.”

  “Oh. What for?”

  “You’re supposed to take care of the farm when Father isn’t able to, and … Mr. Clarkson wants you to go there and do your job.”

  As if my list of things to do wasn’t already long enough. “What about you?”

  She raised her eyebrow. “What about me?”

  “Can’t you help?”

  She snorted, looking down at her cup. “Smelly horses and reeking stables aren’t my thing.”

  I watched her profile. She was still young but she was already too beautiful. “What is your thing?”

  Her head whipped so fast, I thought she might have hurt her neck. And that reminded me of my own head whipping back, hurting my neck, and other things I wished I could wipe away. I rested my hand over my neck, willing the memories away, and focused on Hilary.

  She stared at me as if I were a stranger. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “Jeez, are you going to keep answering my questions with more questions?”

  She smiled. “Apparently.”

  I gently bumped my shoulder on hers. “Tell me.”

  She reached to her purse, fished out a notebook, and handed it to me. “I like fashion design.”

  I opened the notebook and my mouth fell open: a drawing of an elegant woman clad in a gorgeous blue gown took over the first page. I flipped to the next page, and a slightly different model wore slacks and a fancy lace cami. On the next page, the model wore jeans and a one-shoulder orange blouse. The details, the shadows, the textures … all incredible.

  “You drew these?”

  “I did.”

  I gazed up at her. “I had no idea.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” She shrugged and stood, avoiding my eyes. “I’m gonna grab more coffee. Want some?”

  I frowned. “Yeah, sure.”

  She zipped out of the room, and I returned my attention to the pages of the notebook. Incredible. No other word could express the drawings. The clothes varied from ball gowns to everyday casual to swimwear and gym clothes. She had everything in here. Even jewelry and watches and purses and shoes. Most were too fancy for my taste, but I was sure it would please a lot of women.

  Crap, I had no idea what Hilary wanted to do in the future. Did she plan to go to college or fashion school?

  The fact that this five-minute exchange had been the deepest in our lives saddened me. I had to fix it. I had to reach out to her and be her friend, even if we were too different. After all, she was my baby sister, and no bond should be stronger.

  My cell phone dinged and I quickly muted it. I didn’t want to wake up my mother. I went to the new messages and found one from an unknown number.

  Unknown caller: How are you doing?

  M
e: Who is it?

  Unknown caller: It’s me, guria.

  Me: Bia?

  Bia: Who else? So, how are you?

  Me: I’m fine.

  Bia: And your father?

  Me: He’s stable. Still unconscious.

  Before she could type another answer, I asked: Why the interest?

  Bia: Guess? My brother is over my shoul—

  The message came incomplete, and I wondered if I should keep the conversation going or ignore her. And him.

  Five minutes later, my phone vibrated.

  Bia: Sorry. Leo grabbed my phone.

  Me: Wait. You’re texting me from Switzerland?

  Bia: No. The team decided to sit this one out.

  Oh. My. God. It was like the stars had aligned. Before I could recover, Bia texted again.

  Bia: Leo wants to know how Argus is doing.

  Me: The same.

  Bia: Meu Deus, Leo asked me to type a book. Sorry, I’m not gonna keep relaying his messages. I’m out. Tchau!

  Me: Bye.

  I stared at my phone for a few more seconds.

  Leo was worried about Argus. He wasn’t in Switzerland. Eric was in Switzerland, and would stay there for two weeks or more. There was no other explanation. The stars had aligned.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I stopped my car on the road, a few feet from the gate of the O’Connor ranch—I tried to calculate the time right and hoped they were home, since I had given them one hour after the regular practice time—and questioned my sanity for the umpteenth time since confirming they stayed in the country.

  What the hell? I wasn’t a chicken. Leo had helped me before. He could help me again.

  I pulled down the sun visor and checked my makeup in the vanity mirror. If it had depended on me, I would have come here yesterday, after exchanging messages with Bia, but because I wanted to make sure the bruises were gone, I waited. Now, they were gone and nobody would ever know.

  Swallowing my fear, I hit the accelerator and entered the property. It looked like any property around here. A long, winding road that led up to the main house, which was a large, white, spectacle, three-story house with a wraparound porch. To the side, the main stable, usually painted red, was dark green. A large arena was behind it, leading up to a second stable. My ranch had a waterfall; this one had a small artificial lake. And both had lots and lots of land covered in brown grasses.