Love Tangle: Riding Bareback

by S. E. Margaux

  “The stable boy?” Jo asked. She scoffed. “Nah. She isn’t. Is she?” She swallowed her toast.

  “Look, why don’t you just talk to her?” Bella asked. She pointed at Jo with her coffee mug. “You’re not doing yourself any favors. Or her. And it’s about damn time she knew how you feel.”

  Jo set down her own coffee and leaned over the back of the chair.

  “But what if she doesn’t feel the same way? How could I get over that? Ever?”

  Bella shrugged again.

  “You just gotta decide, then. I mean, if she feels the same way, then great. Peachy. If she doesn’t…” She broke off, lost in thought. “Then you’ll just have to decide. What’s more important to you, your friend’s chance at love, or your own? Some things are meant to be,” Bella said, “and some aren’t. But if you can’t talk to your friends, then who can you talk to?” She stood up and finished her coffee. “Mind taking this back when you’re done? I need a shower about twenty minutes ago. Look,” she said, turning back at the door, “secrets shouldn’t be locked away. Trust me, it never works out well.”

  But then what are they secrets for? Jo wondered. She finished her breakfast, lost in thought, only barely aware, as she began walking, of where she was headed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  -

  Anita wasn’t sure how exactly they had ended up in the lake. One minute, they were riding along, watching the horses, and the next… Well, the horses could take care of themselves, for a little while. Clothes lay scattered across the jetty. She had forgotten how easy it was to feel cold, even on such a hot day.

  “It’s f-f-freezing,” she had stuttered.

  “I can help with that.”

  The water was too deep for her past the jetty, but Raoul had found a foothold. He stood, strong and warm and comforting against the cold lap of the water. She pressed herself against his sculpted chest, reveling in the heat that grew between them. It was easy. This was easy, she thought, sighing as he kissed her jaw, her neck, along her collarbone. His fingers drew ardent lines across her back, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, willing him to give more.

  It was easy. Why should it be anything else? This was enough, she thought. He kissed, sucking slightly. His teeth caught on her skin, and she felt his pleasure grow between them. Their breath became shallower, more desperate.

  Had he done this? Anita thought, as Raoul’s hands caught in her hair and pulled back, just enough to expose her neck and push their bodies closer together still. Had there been such heat, between him and Nikki, that night? The thought of him filled her, more than the immediate heat and anticipation between her and Raoul: it spread from her mind, blurring out everything else. She felt Raoul sucking her nipples, his tongue tracing greedy circles, his hand in her hair, his pleasure throbbing impatiently… But it was only skin-deep. It didn’t feel wrong, it just wasn’t right. She forced the thought of Tristan out of her mind. Skin-deep was enough, for now, she thought, and she had always been a firm believer in carpe diem. Seize the day. Well, if she was going to seize… It was she who grabbed his hair now, pulling his head back, and his breath hitched when she met his lips, and…

  “Did you hear that?” she asked, pulling away.

  “Hear what?”

  “I’m sure I heard something.” It had been a crack. Or a stumble.

  “I can’t hear anything,” Raoul said, impatiently, “it was probably one of the horses.”

  But then she heard it again, and he must have, too, because his arms left her back as he turned to look towards the shore. She kept her balance, but only barely, grasping onto his shoulders.

  And then, from the trees by the shore, Jo came through, tripping over every twig, branch, and root along the way. She landed inelegantly by the side of the lake, looked up, looked at Raoul, whose back was still mostly turned. Looked at Anita. And deftly turned around towards the trees.

  “What are you doing here?” Anita cried out.

  “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Jo said. Her hands were up. Was she covering her eyes? “Bella said you’d taken the horses out and that you wanted someone to call you if Weattie came by, and I didn’t see you in the field so I thought maybe you’d be here.”

  There was a pause.

  “So I guess I was right.”

  Another pause.

  “I’m going to go.”

  “Good idea,” Raoul muttered, but Anita disentangled herself. There was a momentary shock of cold, as her body left him, but she found she quickly readjusted when she moved. It was almost pleasant, the cool water against her own warmth.

  “Wait,” she said.

  “What?” said Raoul.

  Anita turned around apologetically.

  “I… I can’t. I’m sorry, Raoul, I can’t, I just… I feel like I’m leading you on, and I don’t want to do that, and I really need to be there when Weattie gets here, and…” She trailed off. She was running out of excuses. The spell was broken: all she really wanted now was to get out of the water and into a warm towel.

  Raoul sighed audibly behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she could imagine him, running a hand through his hair, shoulders drooped, not in disappointment, really. More in acceptance. He was a good guy, she thought. Perhaps the only one.

  “I… Yeah. Alright. You two talk. I’ll be right out. I’m going to go for a swim.”

  Jo kept her gaze steadily fixed on the trees as Anita stepped out of the water and around onto the jetty. She dried herself off with her shirt and got dressed as quickly as possible.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Jo, squeezing the last of the water out of her hair. “You can turn around, I’m dressed.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Jo said, again. She wrung her hands nervously. “I was just wondering if…”

  “It’s alright. Really.” Anita took Jo’s hands and laughed. “You don’t need to look so nervous, it’s fine. I actually don’t think I would have… Well, maybe I would, but it just didn’t feel right, you know?”

  Jo looked up. Their eyes met. There was something curiously intense about her gaze.

  “Jo, I need to tell you something.”

  “Yes?”

  Anita took a deep breath in, and a step back. “I think I’m in love with Tristan,” she said. It felt good, to say it out loud. And once it was out, the rest followed with ease. “I didn’t want to admit it at first, I thought it was just, you know, a thing, an infatuation, there aren’t exactly dozens of men around here, I just liked that we really got along. But then he was sleeping with Nikki this whole time, and I just pushed it aside, you know?” She sat down on the soft grass. “I was so upset. I am so upset. But I really do love him. And I know this is crazy, but I think he loves me too.”

  “Really?” Jo asked. She sat down next to her friend.

  “I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but I really think so. It’s just there, you know, every time I see him, even when I was trying to ignore it, even when he was, I could still see it. I could still feel it. And I think I just need to try, you know?”

  “What about Nikki?”

  “What about her?” Anita said, heatedly. “Look,” she took a deep breath, “I’ll just have to ask him. I’ll just have to tell him. And if he loves her, if he wants to be with her, then…”

  “Then?”

  “Then,” Anita said, “I’ll accept it. I don’t have to like it, but it’s not my choice, you know? What use is love to me if it’s not reciprocated? We could be friends,” she continued, slowly, though the thought of it pained her a bit, “that would be alright. It would be better than nothing. I just want him to be happy. I just want him to be happy, and I want to be his friend. And I’d love to be more than that if he wants it too. But otherwise, I’ll be happy with his happiness, you know?”

  Jo let herself fall back in the grass.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?” Anita said, turning towards Jo.

  Jo propped herself up on her
elbows and grinned.

  “Well, maybe you’re a little crazy, but I like that about you.”

  “So you think I’m making the right decision?”

  “Yeah,” Jo said. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

  Anita felt herself blush.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  Jo sat up and brushed a strand of hair out of Anita’s eyes. “Well,” she said, smiling, “if he makes you happy, and if telling him could make you happy, then you should do it. You deserve all the happiness the world can give you.”

  Anita smiled, and the smile turned into a giddy grin. She hugged Jo around the neck.

  “Thanks. You’re the best. Come on, let’s go.” She stood up and helped Jo to her feet. “We’ll be late for Weattie.”

  “Ah, never mind, the guy’s a jerk, anyhow. I never liked him.”

  “Me neither,” Anita said. She took Jo’s hand and they walked back towards the horses. “Hey, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Nothing,” Jo said. She squeezed Anita’s hand. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  -

  The two arrived in what seemed to be the midst of a heated discussion.

  "What do you mean, ‘it’s very unlikely’?” Nikki asked.

  Weattie shook his head.

  "I mean that I don’t think we’ll get it.” The man looked beat, Anita thought. His pristine boots glistened with lack of ranch work, and his white jacket positively glowed with bleach, but there were deep circles under his eyes, his usually too-white grin now a somber line across his face. He sat less straight, hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of his hat. Even his mustache seemed to droop.

  "But all of our things were burned up!" Sally said. The look of astonishment on her face was truly pitiful, and Anita had a moment of anxiety, thinking about how she might feel if all her possessions, her whole material life was burned to ashes from one moment to the next.

  Weattie shook his head again.

  "It doesn't seem likely at all," he continued. He was playing around with his hat, and a look at the other girls told Anita they wanted as much as her to take that damned hat and shove it down Weattie's throat. Or maybe elsewhere.

  "But why?" Nikki asked passionately. “What reason could they have for denying us insurance? It was a fire, insurances cover fires!”

  "Well, that’s true, but the insurance doesn't cover fire if it was set with intent," Weattie said.

  There was a moment of silence.

  "Arson?" Sally whispered. "Someone did that on purpose? Who would do something like that?"

  “What do you mean it doesn’t cover arson? It was a lightning strike,” Nikki said.

  "Well, that's the problem, see," Weattie explained, "there’s no sign in the house that it was lightning. It seems to have started from the bottom.”

  “But I saw…” Nikki stopped. “I think I saw it. There was lightning. It was a storm.”

  Weattie shrugged. “Fire department seems to think otherwise.”

  “Alright,” Nikki said, slowly, “but even if it was arson, arson should be covered. It’s not our fault if someone started a fire.”

  Weattie sighed. “And here it gets real unpleasant. Only way it makes sense is for it to have been done by someone on the ranch. Which means no insurance.” The frustration finally bubbled over and he banged his fist on the table.

  "Well, you didn't know this was going to happen," Nikki said, though it didn't seem so much to console the man as to avoid him denting the table with his heavy ring.

  Sally still looked like someone had just slapped her across the face.

  "Someone tried to burn down the house," she repeated, so quietly Anita could barely hear her at all, "with me inside it?"

  Jo grasped Sally's hand.

  "Who would do something like that?" she asked Weattie.

  "Well," Weattie said, "someone who doesn't like you, I'd wager. Although it’s more likely they didn’t think you were in it."

  “But why would they do that?”

  Weattie shrugged.

  “Might’ve been an accident.”

  “Or a try at an insurance claim.” Sally glanced at Nikki. As did, briefly, Bella.

  "I need to speak to you for a moment," Bella said to Weattie. “Alone.”

  Weattie followed Bella outside.

  “Well,” Jo said, leaning back in her chair. “I was with Bella when the fire broke out.”

  Everyone looked momentarily confused, then understood.

  “I was in the stable,” Anita said, biting her lip. “So was Raoul. And Tristan.” She looked at Tristan. He looked back at her, stony-faced, but she saw, in the corner of his eyes, something go out. “I wish,” she added, continuing to look at him. “I wish I hadn’t been. But I was.”

  Jo glanced at her.

  “I was busy dying inside it,” Sally said, “doesn’t make sense for me to set a fire with myself in the building, does it?”

  All eyes turned to Nikki.

  "What?" Nikki said, dumbfounded.

  “Where were you?” Anita challenged her.

  “I was in the orchard,” Nikki said.

  “Alone?” Sally asked.

  “Yes,” Nikki said, slowly, “what are you getting at?”

  “You were already there when we got there,” Jo said, equally slowly. Warily.

  “I… What are you getting at?” Nikki repeated.

  Sally blanched.

  “You’ve been talking about leaving for months,” she said quietly.

  “And?” Nikki laughed nervously. “Why would I burn down the house? Why would I burn down the house with you in it? This is ridiculous. You’re all acting paranoid.”

  But Anita could see it. It made sense. Her heart clenched up. She still felt wronged, still felt cheated by Nikki. But they had been friends. And yet…

  “Moving is expensive,” she said, as the thought formed, “moving is expensive and college is very expensive. I don’t reckon your part of the insurance would have covered much, but it would have gotten you out of here.”

  “The insurance doesn’t go to me,” Nikki said, raising her arms, “it goes to Weattie! I didn’t live there, I had no possession there, what claim do I have to the insurance?”

  “So you didn’t think it through,” Sally said. “You didn’t think it through and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

  “Guys,” Tristan said, quietly, “maybe we should all calm down.”

  Anita glared at him.

  “We can’t know who was on the ranch that day. And even if it wasn’t lightning, it could have been gas, or a fuse, or…” He trailed off lamely, but his words seemed to take effect. Jo looked slightly mollified, and Sally, though still visibly tense, lowered her accusing hand.

  “Well, it could have been,” Anita said, glaring at Nikki.

  “This is unbelievable. You’re supposed to be my friends.” Nikki pushed back her chair, stood up and turned to the door. Nobody stopped her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  -

  Sally couldn’t think straight. Since the fire, her mind had been a hazy blur. Connor’s face swam in her eyes: at least, she thought it was his face. It was frayed at the edges, like a dream. She could hear words swimming in her ears: love requires sacrifice — and then there were tears in her eyes and she was crying again.

  Seeing the wreckage that day had been almost too much. All she wanted to do was curl up and cry, though she had a feeling that her tears irritated Bella. While Jo went to great lengths to extract from her thoughts and feelings, Bella seemed… disinterested? Whenever she began to speak, to explain, to explore, Bella would shut down. She would grimace, she would say, “We’re going to get through this, we’re going to be ok,” and that would be the end.

  She must be taking it harder than we know, Sally thought. She had always thought that Bella’s hard exterior masked a softer side. If only she would let her friends see it.

  Bell
a was already in her room, arranging the sofa cushions for the evening. She had donated the bed to Sally, a gesture Sally had appreciated.

  “I tidied up a bit, so there should be more room to move around,” she said as she slid into bed.

  “Are you going to sleep now?” Sally asked, pulling on the old t-shirt she was borrowing from Bella.

  “I’ve got to try and sort some stuff out with Weattie in the morning,” Bella muttered, rolling over.

  “Ok. I’m just going to get some water, I won’t be long. Sorry if I wake you.”

  “It’s fine,” Bella muttered.

  Sally could hear Tristan and Nikki talking in her room, and Jo humming in the bathroom as she crept downstairs. The kitchen was dark, but Sally felt safe in it. She didn’t have to worry about what she couldn’t see.

  Turning on a low side light, she poured herself a glass of water. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping the cool liquid, when she noticed an ivory envelope on the table, smeared with dark red drops. She walked over to the table and picked it up.

  She dropped the glass, and it shattered in the silence of the sleeping house, muffled by walls and floors. Sally knew the gentle curve of that ‘S’, the soft, fat roundness of the ‘a’, the delicate loop of the double ‘l’, the flirtatious flick of the ‘y’. This letter was addressed to her. And it was from Connor.

  She suddenly felt lightheaded, breathless. Her throat constricted, her hand clutched the letter. She felt hot, like she was burning up. She felt flames and smoke, she was choking.

  Ignoring the broken glass, she rushed to the verandah. She gasped at the cool summer night breeze. She breathed in the fresh mountain air. She felt it cool her, bring her burning to a clammy sweat on her brow. It calmed her.

  She let the screen door close and sat on the porch swing seat. She didn’t notice her cut, bleeding feet leaving a trail of dark burgundy stains on the wood or that dangling from the bench they were dropping fat tears of blood on the porch.

  All she could think about was the letter. She stared at the crumpled envelope in her hands. This was it. Connor’s last words. Did she really want to read this? How had it even gotten there? When was this written?

  She already knew she had to read it. Slowly opening the back, she pulled out the folded cream paper, and read with growing anger the handwritten contents within.