by Sharon Kleve
“Sure.”
Brenda turned to another wall with shovels, post-hole diggers, and brooms lined up against it, and grabbed a large cowbell off a hook. “Follow me.” She stepped outside, walked over to the pole fence, opened the gate, stepped through, and then held it open while he followed her, carefully looping the wire fastener back over the post. Then she shook the bell. “Now watch what happens.”
At the first clap of the bell, the horses raised their heads as one, and turned to stare in the direction of the sound. When Brenda continued to ring it, they walked slowly to her, but soon their steps quickened. Then, the lead horse flung up his head, snaked it around and ran. The others galloped behind, as their tails flowed up and out behind them.
“Pour some grain into separate piles over there.” Brenda pointed. She walked back through the gate to the barn again and came back out with halters and lead ropes attached to them.
“Doesn’t your uncle ever feed them?”
“Yes, of course, but they love grain.” Here, I need your help again.” She handed him a halter and rope behind her back. “Don’t let them see this. Now walk up to that bay horse with the star on his forehead. That’s Apache. Pretend you have something else for him and then slip the rope around his neck.”
After the horses were caught and tied to the hitching post, Brenda brought out brushes, handed one to him, and reminded him to brush the way Apache’s hair grew. He coughed at the dust. He saw Brenda look over and grin as he fed the horse a carrot. She nodded in approval. “Smart move. Now you’re his buddy.”
****
“The horses are eager at first, when they start out—feeling their oats,” Brenda said, as she smiled at Blake. She was surprised to see he hadn’t forgotten a thing about riding, and looked like a regular horseman.
The horses seemed to be trying to outdo each other in a trotting race up the trail—no easy feat since the trails went mostly uphill. At the top, where the trail intersected with an abandoned logging road, Brenda reined Carrot in. “We shouldn’t have let them do that. They need to warm up first like any athlete,” she told Blake, but she couldn’t help smiling. The crisp mountain air was still brisk and invigorating and the horses’ breath puffed out in the cold misty air.
“Hey, this is great.” Blake looked out at the view.
“You get a much better view of nature from the back of a horse, than you do in a car. And, the air smells better.”
There was nothing like riding up into the mountains on horseback. Trail-riding calmed her and gave her a peaceful feeling. She loved to be up above the tree line in the fresh air, away from the deafening noise of the city—and the airport. The tall trees made a canopy across the trail, but sometimes when she looked up she could see patches of blue sky.
“This reminds me of flying,” Blake said. “I got my pilot’s license a couple years ago. You can see so much more from the air too.”
“The trail we’re on goes past what’s left of an old log cabin. It’s really cool. It must be over a hundred years old. I doubt that you could see it from the air—it’s pretty well-hidden—but we’re heading for Bible Rock. It has a great view of the whole valley. It’s at the very top of this mountain and from the distance it looks like an open book. You might feel as though we are in the clouds then.” She smiled.
Blake peered up the trail. “How long will it take to get there?”
“Only about two hours.”
“Two hours...up?”
She laughed. “Yes, and two hours back down. Is that too much for you?”
“No...” he answered, but she could hear the hesitation in his voice. Brenda just smiled. As the sun rose overhead, she felt too warm—or maybe it was the sight of Blake in his cream-colored fisherman’s sweater, and worn jeans, better-looking than any man had a right to be, that warmed her. At first, she felt glad she’d worn her sheepskin-lined denim jacket, but now she felt a need to peel off at least one layer of clothing.
“Blake, stop for a minute. I want to take off my jacket.” She pulled back on the reins and Carrot stopped, and then stretched her long neck down to grab a grass snack while she could. Brenda reached around, placed her folded jacket behind the saddle seat and tied it in two places with the attached leather strings. She looked up, and saw that Blake struggled to do the same with his sweater, but Apache wouldn’t cooperate. He pranced and pulled on the reins, trying to get to the grass.
“Hey, whoa horse!” He grabbed at the reins to hold his mount’s head up.
“Here, give me the reins and I’ll hold him for you,” Brenda offered, and reached out her arm. “Apache’s a good riding horse, but Uncle Jim doesn’t spend much time working with him. He doesn’t have very good manners.”
“Nah, I can do it. I’ll just get off and let him graze like Carrot, and then I can use both hands.” Blake dismounted, and grabbed for his sweater. Before he could pull it off the dancing horse, the sweater fell to the ground. Startled, the horse jumped forward smack into Carrot, who squealed, laid her ears back against her skull and kicked out. Apache leaped sideways to avoid the vicious thrust of Carrot’s hoof, but Blake, caught in the middle of them, didn’t. He fell to the ground, and grasped his thigh with both hands.
Brenda saw a bright splotch of blood spread under his fingers.
“Blake!” she cried, horrified as he sank slowly to the ground. She ran over to him. His jeans were torn where the horse’s shod hoof landed. She didn’t know much about first aid, except that she should try to stop the bleeding, and that the wound should be cleaned. She grabbed her canteen and jacket from Carrot’s saddle, thankful that her horse calmed down after her annoyance with Apache. She cropped at the grass and allowed Brenda to walk up to her.
Brenda found a large, clean bandanna in her jacket pocket and soaked it with water from the canteen. “Blake, your jeans are already torn here, but I have to tear them some more to get to your wound, okay?”
“Yeah, go ahead. Do what you have to do.”
Brenda dabbed at Blake’s wound after she’d applied pressure long enough to stop the flow of blood. Her heart raced and she had to fight a woozy feeling. The sight of blood always made her feel faint, but she needed to keep going. She pulled her jacket from the saddle and laid it under his head for a pillow, then grabbed his sweater off the ground where it landed, and laid it over him.
He’d closed his eyes briefly, but opened them again. “How is it?” he asked with a grimace.
“I got the mud cleaned off and it’s not bleeding much right now, but I think you’ll need stitches. You can’t ride even if I could catch Apache, and you can’t walk, so I’ll need to go back to the ranch and get some help. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’ll be all right. What will you do with Apache?”
“I think he’ll follow Carrot. I’d better get going. Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone?” she asked anxiously. He looked so pale.
“I forgot how hard horses can kick.” He gave her a wan smile and nodded.
“I put the canteen right next to your hand in case you get thirsty. Anything else I can do for you before I go?”
“How about a kiss?” A smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, and then immediately turned to a wince.
“You must not feel too bad if that’s all you want.” She leaned over to give him a quick peck on his lips, but his hand laced around her neck and he pulled her down. His lips were arm and still tasted of candy cane coffee. She wanted the kiss to go on forever. When he released his grip on her, she pulled back, and stood up, stunned for a moment.
“I feel better now. That helped.” His eyes were closed, but a slight smile played on his lips.
Brenda backed away. No, this couldn’t happen. He’d broken up with her. Nothing had changed. He’d leave again in a few days. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” she said, turne
d and hurried over to Carrot.
She thrust her foot into the stirrup and hopped up into the saddle on Carrot’s back. “Come on girl, you need to fly,” she urged the horse, and turned her toward the trail, with one last look at Blake.
Instead of heading back down the trail they’d just ridden up, she took a shortcut that should get her back to the ranch faster. Sure enough, Apache, ears pricked forward, came whinnying after them at a full gallop, stirrups flapping, as fast as the horse could run downhill through the trees and brush, trying to avoid his trailing reins.
Brenda felt relieved to see her uncle’s old Chevy pickup parked in front of the cabin. When she called out, “Uncle Jim,” he appeared in the doorway.
He reached out to grab the reins of the riderless horse. “Whoa, Apache. What’s wrong, Brenda?
After she’d caught her breath, she explained and ended with, “It’s all my fault. I should have let him ride Carrot, but she can be pretty spirited. I thought Apache would be safe for Blake. I had no idea Carrot would kick him.”
“No time for regrets. Put the horses away and I’ll get an old mattress to put in the back of the truck. We can get pretty close to him on one of those old logging roads.”
Brenda unsaddled the horses, pulled their bridles off and turned them into the corral by the barn. She knew she should walk and cool them and rub them down after their mad dash, but Blake needed her. “Sorry guys.” She ran back to the cabin and hopped into the pickup.
Blake’s eyes were closed when they reached him, but he must have heard them and sat up part-way.
“I brought help. Blake, this is my Uncle Jim. Thanks goodness he was home. How are you doing?” Brenda asked in a rush as she dropped down beside him.
“Not too bad. A bit embarrassed to be so helpless, though. Nice to meet you, sir,” he replied and then sucked in a breath as he moved an inch.
“Don’t worry about that. We brought my truck, but the road only got us so far. I’m afraid you’re going to have to walk a bit—with our help, of course. Let’s see if we can get you up on your feet without making things worse.”
Brenda’s uncle helped her get Blake to his feet. “I think I can walk now, if I can just hold onto you a little, Brenda,” Blake told them. She nodded and moved closer to him. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she felt his big, warm body against hers. It felt all too familiar. She sighed.
“Am I too heavy for you?” Blake asked. “I might be able to make it on my own…”
“Oh no. You’re fine. I was just…thinking. That’s all. The truck’s just a bit further.”
They were able to get him to the truck and onto the mattress in the pickup bed. Brenda sat in the back with his head in her lap and tried to cushion him from the bumpy, rutted, old dirt road, and shield him from the dust that flew up around them, and into their eyes and mouths.
When they reached the cabin, Brenda asked Blake, “Can you semi-recline in the back seat of the car while I drive you to the ER?”
“Sure.” He frowned. “This wasn’t how I’d planned for this day to work out at all,” he mumbled, then turned and hobbled toward the car.
Chapter Four
The drive was mostly silent. Blake lay partially propped up against the back seat. Every time Brenda took her eyes off the road to glance back at him, his eyes were closed. He had to be in terrible pain. She’d been kicked, though not this bad, and she knew how much it hurt.
Blake cracked an eye. “It’s just a cut.” But she saw blood seeping through the gauze she’d found in her uncle’s first aid kit.
When she pulled up to the emergency entrance of the hospital, Brenda hopped out of the car and ran in through the automatic double glass doors. “I need a wheelchair!” she shouted out to the woman behind the reception desk. A nurse, who stood behind the desk as well, found a chair and followed Brenda out to the car. The two of them helped Blake into the chair. Brenda parked the car and ran back inside, but didn’t see him in the waiting room, so she walked up to the reception desk. “I’m the one who needed the wheelchair. Do you know if the nurse took him back there?” She pointed to the double doors that led back to the triage area.
“I think so. What is his name?”
“Blake Preston.”
The receptionist nodded.
“Can I go back there and be with him?”
“Are you a relative?”
“No, but—” Worry clenched her gut.
“Then I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait out here.”
“Sharon, that’s okay, he’s asking for her.” The nurse who’d wheeled him in, stood in the doorway, and beckoned for Brenda to follow her.”
Blake lay on top of a railed bed, his eyes closed, while a nurse took his blood pressure. He wore a blue hospital gown. The bed seemed small for his large frame.
Brenda waited until the nurse finished checking his vitals to ask him, “How do you feel?”
“Honestly? It hurts like hell. My thigh feels as though it’s on fire.”
Brenda turned to the nurse. “Can’t you give him something for it?”
“I’m sorry. The doctor needs to see him first. Then we can give him something for the pain.” The nurse patted Blake’s shoulder, told them the doctor would be in shortly, and then left the room.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you. You’ll probably never want to go riding or have anything to do with horses again.” Brenda sighed and looked down, tears forming in her eyes. For the first time that day, now that Blake was in capable hands, and the adrenaline that kicked in had receded, she let herself cry.
“Hey, don’t cry.” He held out his hand for her to sit on the side of the bed. “It’s not your fault. Accidents happen. I’ll just have to be more careful around horses in the future and get out of the way faster when they kick at each other. Actually, I was having a great time. Look on the bright side: it was such a short ride I didn’t have a chance to get saddle sore,” he said and then smiled at her through clenched teeth.
She smiled back through her tears, wiped them away with the back of her hand and sniffed. “You always knew how to cheer me up. You’re the one injured; I should try to make you smile.”
“You always make me smile.”
Brenda felt relieved when they didn’t have to wait too long for the doctor to come in. But when he began his exam, poking and prodding at the wound to assess the damage, the look on Blake’s face made her reach for his hand. He turned his head to look at her and his mouth tugged up in a brief smile—well, maybe a grimace—that tugged at her heart.
“Yes, it definitely needs stitches,” the doctor told them. “But you’re lucky. I got a look at x-ray and it just missed the bone, so your leg’s not broken. I’ll have the nurse come in and give you some pain meds and a shot to numb the area before I stitch it up. We’ll have you feeling better soon,” he said and walked out of the room.
Not soon enough, Brenda thought. It was hard to see Blake in such pain. She squeezed his hand in sympathy.
When the nurse came back in, she handed Blake a pill and a small paper cup of water, and then looked at Brenda. “The doctor will be back in shortly to stitch up Mr. Preston’s wound, so if you don’t want to stay, Mrs. Preston, you could go right down the hall to the waiting room, and I’ll let you know when he’s done.”
Brenda was sure her mouth gaped open. “Uhhh...”
“You’ll stay, won’t you Brenda?” Blake seemed to plead. He knew her aversion to the sight of blood. He’d always put the Band-Aids on her when she had cuts. He’d had to put them on himself too, and told her to sit down when she felt woozy. She knew that he realized how much he was asking of her.
“Yes, of course.” She swallowed, and her hands felt clammy.
But Brenda surprised herself by handling the procedure better than she thought she would. She
looked away when the doctor first put the needle in, but when she saw Blake’s reaction, she again reached for his hand and held it tight. And when he started to look down, she tugged on his hand to get his attention.”So, what made you decide to finally get a pilot’s license? You talked about it for years.” It did the trick and as he explained. Brenda listened and felt she made the appropriate responses to keep him talking, but she couldn’t help but wonder who she hoped to distract—Blake or herself?
Brenda brought the car up to the ER entrance and then got out to help Blake into it. Then she drove them to the drive-through pharmacy window to get the prescribed pain medication filled.
“Where now?” she asked him, though she knew the obvious answer.
“You can take me back to your place and I’ll drive back to my parents’ house from there.”
“Blake, you can’t drive when you’re taking pain medication. I’ll just take you there and find a way home.” She sighed. If she was lucky, his parents were still at work. She glanced at her watch. It was much later than she’d thought. ER visits always took a long time.
“Okay. I’m sure I can find someone to drive you back to your place,” he said drowsily, the pain pills obviously doing their job.
When they reached his parents’ dark brown, split-level home in an older sub-division, a car sat in the driveway.
