by Tessa Layne
He reeled back, stung by her words, and shook his head. “Excuse me for trying to help the woman I love. Jesus, Hope. I put myself on the line for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” she shouted. “I’d never ask for your help like that.”
“Why the fuck not, Hope? I’d give you my left arm if you asked.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I’d give you anything.”
She looked away and scuffed the ground with her boot. “Maybe because I didn’t want another man meddling in my life. Telling me how to handle my problems.”
“Meddling?” That burned.
She swung back to him, eyes flaming. “Yes. Meddling.” Her voice rose in anger. “Did you listen when I told you I didn’t want to return to school? No. You pushed and pushed, and then orchestrated an introduction with the dean of a vet school. Did Axe and Gunn listen when I told them I didn’t want to date?” She waved an arm toward the farmhouse. “No. They took out a singles ad for me. A singles ad, Ben. And don’t get me started on Dad, who thinks my only future is as a ranch wife.”
“You’re missing the point. You deliberately withheld something important from me.”
“BECAUSE I WASN’T READY TO TALK ABOUT IT,” she shouted. “You wouldn’t leave well enough alone,” she clamped her mouth shut, jaw set.
A memory rose, clear as day, of his parents. Of Jake yelling the same thing to his mother.
He laughed bitterly. “You’re right. Because I could see you were in pain and I wanted to help. But that doesn’t change the fact that you. Lied.”
Her eyes glittered intensely, and she shook her head. “Yes. Yes, I guess I did. But there are things I need to expl–”
He raised his hand and cut her off. “Don’t play me for a fool, Hope. We had something.” Despair boiled up inside of him and squeezed the light out of him. “Shit. I bared my soul to you the other night, and you still didn’t say a thing.” He swallowed the ache that threatened to stop his voice. “You don’t lie to people you say you love,” he stated flatly. “And how can we build something without trust? We can’t.”
A single tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye. “Trust goes two ways, Ben.”
“And if you couldn’t trust me after I bared everything. Everything. What do we have?”
She flinched, tears spilling down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak then covered her mouth in a little sob, her eyes dark sorrowful pools. “I know I should have told you. Please, believe me when I say I tried.”
“Not hard enough,” he interjected through gritted teeth.
“Okay, maybe not hard enough, but you have to understand–”
“I don’t understand,” he roared. “You of all people know how I feel about lying. About how it destroys relationships. How could you do this?”
He could see the effect his words were having on her. He was breaking her as surely as she had broken him. But he had to find out the ugly truth. Hear it once and for all from her. How deep had her deception run? “Who knows? Has your family been covering for you? Am I the fool here?”
“No.” She cried, hiccupping. “No one knows.”
“No one? You hid this from everyone you say you love.” He shook his head, incredulous. “Who the hell are you, Hope?” He barked out an angry laugh. “You sure as hell aren’t who I thought you were.”
“I’m sorry, Ben.” Her face was blotchy from her tears now, and she clutched her hands together. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. You have to know how much I…” another little hiccup. “I would never…”
He looked at her bleakly. “The only thing I know is that I thought you loved me. And you held out on me… us,” he gestured between them. “At a fundamental level.” He studied his boots and shook his head, before giving her a last look. “I’m sorry too, Hope. More than you will ever know.” Bone-aching sorrow settled over him like a lead blanket, dulling his movements. “I’ll have Maddie bring your things.”
She looked so forlorn there, tears streaming down her face. Half of him wanted to gather her into his arms. But he didn’t see how he could move beyond this. Not fully, and you couldn’t have a marriage built on a shaky foundation. It had torn his mother apart. It would tear him apart too.
The only choice for him was to move on. It had been painful last time, hell it would be painful this time, but for his sanity and self-respect, it was his only option. Fighting the little voice that told him not to walk away, he forced one boot in front of the other and walked out of the yard, squeezing shut his eyes as Hope’s wail of despair rose behind him.
CHAPTER 24
They all knew something was terribly wrong. Hope wore her sorrow like a blanket, wrapped tight around her. The only place she felt at peace was in the ring with Buttercup. A good thing too, because December 21st was fast approaching. In the round pen, she had to focus solely on Buttercup. Nothing else mattered.
And if she won… the prize money in her bank account would help her go anywhere. Make a fresh start. Maybe go take a gentle horse methods certification course in California. At the very least, she could leave Prairie and the reminders of Ben that taunted her at every turn.
She couldn’t seek solace in her tree house. Hiding in her room was even worse. Every sanctuary – except Buttercup’s pen – cut her like a razor. She simply couldn’t erase the memories of him in those places. Not with the vision of their encounters so vividly emblazoned in her soul.
Grabbing a riding helmet, she trudged back out to the pen. Buttercup had been performing nicely with obstacles and sudden movements. She would stand still with the plastic bag, didn’t spook when she flapped a tarp. Walked across the tarp even. Today she’d try riding her outside the pen. Maybe take her to the creek.
Ben should be here to share it with her. Grief slashed through her, nearly stopping her in her tracks. If mourning him the second time went anything like the first, this would not pass easily. Throwing herself into her work was her only option.
She pushed open the barn door and grabbed her equipment from the tack room. She’d have to make a few trips today. Or use a wheelbarrow. At least Gunnar had been there to help her with some of the obstacle training.
Of her two brothers, he was the less pushy. Maybe it came from being the oldest. He never concerned himself with jockeying for influence the way Axel sometimes did. Axel had always been the instigator. Axel was more hotheaded.
Pushier.
But, he’d also been the one that pushed to update the Stable’s practices. So he was good in that respect, at least. And he’d be the first to mete out severe punishment to anyone who had wronged her.
But Ben hadn’t wronged her. Not like her brothers thought. No. She was stewing in her own juices. Losing Ben was nothing more than the culmination of a cascade of events that began with a late night, anxiety ridden, somewhat drunken decision. And she would have to live with the consequences of it for the rest of her life.
Fresh tears threatened to overwhelm her. She’d cried an ocean over the last week, when she thought no one was looking. But she could tell they knew. She saw it in the way her parents exchanged private glances at the kitchen sink. The way Axel had stopped teasing her. The way Gunnar randomly showed up and offered help.
Come to think of it, she could use his help now. She was more than a little uncomfortable at the thought of mounting Buttercup for the first time all alone. She may be gentled, but it would be stupid of her to think that Buttercup was as steady as Phyllis. It would be at least an hour before she was ready to make the attempt though, and everything that came before they’d worked on multiple times.
Dropping the saddle just inside the ring, she went back for the halter and lead, then made her way over to Buttercup, speaking to her softly, and making kissy noises. Buttercup let her approach, then stood quietly while Hope slipped on the halter. The routine was always the same. Buttercup would circle then turn at Hope’s invitation moving the other way. In five minutes, Buttercup followed Hope anywhere in the ring.
Next it was pe
ts and scratches under her belly, along her withers, down her hip, followed by first introducing the saddle blanket, then the saddle. Hope walked Buttercup around the ring, continuing to talk to her. Hope remained surprised at how fast Buttercup learned. It didn’t mean she could skip steps though. Hope had realized that she had to follow the same routine every day, and that desensitizing Buttercup was an ongoing process. Some days were more successful than others.
“I always said you were the most talented trainer we had,” Gunnar called softly from the gate, holding a big trunk. “But you never ask for help when you should,” he frowned at her. “You’re wearing a helmet. Planning to take her out solo? Do you have a death wish?”
Apparently. “I was planning on looking for you.”
“Thank God you’re predictable. That’s all I can say. What if something happened, Hope?”
“Don’t treat me like I’m twelve,” she snapped, suddenly done with his criticism. “You and everyone else spent my entire childhood telling me to suck it up, to be more independent, to not come to you for help because you were busy doing ‘man’s’ work – whatever the hell that is. You don’t get to stand here and yell at me for not asking for help, when this is the first time you’ve ever been interested in offering it.”
There.
At least yelling at her brother made her feel better. A bit. Gunnar looked contrite as he opened up the trunk and began hauling out crops with plastic bags, loose boards, and a heavy plastic tarp. Buttercup tensed when she heard the noise of the tarp, but stayed put.
“Good girl,” Hope crooned, giving her a scratch and helping the horse to relax. “Let’s start with the plastic bag, Gunn.”
For a second, he looked like he was going to say something. Instead he reached for the crop and started bouncing the bag along the ground. Again, Buttercup tensed at the sound, but then quickly relaxed. They worked with her in place, then as she walked around the ring.
Next they went through similar exercises with the tarp, and finally, with the boards.
Axel looked at her expectantly. “Riders up?”
A bubble of excited anticipation welled inside of Hope. She nodded. “Let’s try her on the obstacles with me on her back. If she does well, I’d like to take her out and see how she performs in a less controlled environment.”
Twenty minutes later, Buttercup had managed the tarp, but not the boards. Letting go of her disappointment, Hope returned to the tarp. Better to have achieved one positive step forward than none at all. She’d have to go back and examine the books and DVDs she’d ordered and see where she’d gone wrong. There was so much more to natural horsemanship than she’d realized.
“We’ll have to try again tomorrow, Gunn. I don’t want to upset her any more than we already have.” Buttercup was proving to be a steady, sweet horse, but she still had a ways to go before she was ready for her big day. Hope wanted to make sure the noise of a crowd wouldn’t spook Buttercup, and she wasn’t yet ready to be stalled with the other horses.
Gunnar removed the saddle and blanket. “I’ll take this to the tack room and get it cleaned up. And sis?”
“Yeah?” She turned, sizing him up. He was about to get all big brother on her.
“Whatever’s bothering you. Whatever happened… don’t keep it inside forever. No one loves you more than we do. I know we give you a hard time, too hard, sometimes.” He kicked a clump of dirt. “And whatever passed between you and Ben–”
She cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. We didn’t work out, that’s all.”
She’d ruined them. But she was still coming to terms with that.
Gunnar studied her intently, a small frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but he’s a good guy.” Gunnar cleared his throat and kicked at a clump of dirt. “I want you to be happy, sis. And you’ve been so unhappy. When you’re with Ben… you smile.”
His words pierced her, twisting her insides into an anguished knot. It was true. She couldn’t help smiling around Ben. He made her want to be a better person. But she’d broken his trust. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever regain it. Or if they would ever be the same again. And if she tried to explain herself, would he listen? Or bring himself to forgive her?
Long after Gunnar left the ring, Hope remained, brushing Buttercup until she gleamed. There was something so deeply settling about working with a horse. Buttercup required all her focus. But it went deeper than that. Buttercup required her full presence – both emotional and mental. In the weeks working with the mustang, she’d learned how important it was to let go. Let go of fear, of anger… of anything that prevented her from being completely open to the horse. Call it metaphysical, call it crazy, but Hope had a connection with Buttercup.
Some of the natural horsemanship books she’d read had described similar experiences. Maybe there was something to it. And maybe she could carve a place for herself in that field. There were certainly plenty of horses in the region who could benefit from her help, provided she could convince the owners.
Her conscience pricked at her. If she couldn’t be honest and vulnerable with her family, how could she be completely present to a horse? Could that be why Buttercup was still skittish about some distractions? Because Hope hadn’t been forthcoming? She snorted at the thought, rolling her eyes. That sounded like a bunch of new age mumbo jumbo.
But still…
The fact remained that she needed to come clean with her family. She couldn’t bear it if her family heard the truth from someone other than her. It was time to stop running and own her mistakes. Only then could she go about rebuilding her life. A little flame of hope sparked to life deep inside her. Giving Buttercup a final pat, she collected her equipment and returned them to the barn, moving with an urgency she hadn’t felt in months.
Bursting in the back door, she stopped as the dinner conversation abruptly died. Four pairs of eyes stared at her intently. Anxiety churned in her belly. For a split second, she thought she might be sick as fear mixed with adrenaline, pumped through her. She fought the urge to turn tail and run.
No more running. No more avoiding. “Guys?” Her heart slammed up into her throat, constricting everything. “I need to tell you something.”
CHAPTER 25
Ben stood at the kitchen counter in the Big House, overnight bag slung over his shoulder, eyeing his brothers. “We really going to do this?”
Brodie gave him a look of disbelief. “Hell, yes. It’s my bachelor weekend. When are the weather reports ever right?”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“You haven’t had a good feeling about anything, lately.”
Blake nodded in agreement. “Brodie’s right, Ben. You’ve been off since you and Hope…”
Blake didn’t need to finish the sentence. Ben hadn’t exactly tried to hide his misery. Being around his brothers was like pouring salt on an open wound. Here they were, happy in their relationships, Blake about to become a father in a few weeks, and what did he have? A cold bunkhouse and a diamond ring he’d never use. Bitterness settled in him like a stone.
But he owed it to Brodie to at least fake it. He couldn’t imagine Brodie with a more perfect partner in life and love than Jamey O’Neill. Not that it had been easy for them. Or for Blake and Maddie. Yet in the end, their troubles had brought each couple closer together. Solidified them.
Envy flared briefly within Ben before he pushed it down. Love wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d learn to be content with being Uncle Ben.
Someday.
Maddie and Jamey entered the kitchen, Maddie’s face a picture of worry. “Are you sure this is a good idea? They’re predicting a hundred-year storm.”
Blake crossed the room and took her into his arms, rubbing her enormous belly. “We’ll be fine, sweetheart. It’s only Manhattan.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’d be worried if we had cattle, but not bison. And we’ll do a herd check after the storm. If there is one.”
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br /> The crease between Maddie’s eyebrows deepened. “That’s still over ninety miles, and if we get ice, the roads will be nearly impassable.”
Brodie chimed in. “Blake moved the horses over to Hansen Stables. Warren and Eddie will look after them. So if it storms, you ladies can roast marshmallows in the fireplace and paint your toes.”
“Since the men are going to be carousing without buckle bunnies…” Jamey looked sternly at Brodie and raised an eyebrow.
“I only have eyes for you, darlin’,” he promised.
Jamey flashed a guilty look at Ben, then turned to Maddie and continued. “I booked mani-pedis and massages for you, me, and Hope at the spa. And after, I thought we could string popcorn for the tree.”
Was he that bad? That every time someone mentioned Hope, they cast a guilty look in his direction? He just had to survive until the baby arrived. Once the baby was born, he’d take over Blake’s travel for the next six months. And he’d look for every opportunity to stay as far away from Prairie as possible.
“Earth to Ben,” Brodie waved his hands. “Why don’t you load the truck while we say goodbye to our ladies?”
Ben extended his hand for Brodie’s bag. “Sure thing. Don’t suck face too long. There’s a beer with my name on it waiting for me at the Tallgrass Tap House. Ladies,” he tipped his Stetson to Jamey and Maddie, picked up Blake’s bag where he’d left it by the hall, and headed out to the truck. He’d volunteer to ride jump seat. He was shitty company anyway.
Several hours and several beers later, Ben leaned on the bar at Finn’s Pub watching Axel hit on an undergrad. K-State classes had ended for the semester, and downtown Manhattan was crawling with co-eds. Axel could turn on the charm when he felt like it, and the ladies seemed to like his ginger stubble. Hope’s hair was about four shades lighter than his. Ben took a swallow of his beer, trying to chase the bitter taste of heartache from his mouth. He’d been a bear this evening, barely able to converse with Axel and Gunnar. He was trying to put on a good face for Brodie but failing miserably.
