The Summer of Lost Things
Page 13
“You are . . .”
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay? Just trust me. Bronte is really our most passive horse. She does what she’s supposed to and hasn’t let us down once.”
That makes me feel a little better. And I do trust him. “Okay.” I step around the horse and stand by her side. “Now what?”
“Put your left foot in the stirrup, then swing your right leg over her back.”
“You want me to, what now?”
“Left foot in stirrup. Grab the saddle horn, and when you’re ready, swing your leg over her back and pull yourself up.” My shortness does not come in handy at this moment. I can barely get my foot in the stirrup to start. Maybe because I’m wearing skinny jeans. Bad move on my part. Mira just said “pants.”
I’m sure I look ridiculous as I struggle. “Uh . . . a little help?”
He laughs again. “Okay. I’m going to kind of push you on.” He holds up his hands in defense as my eyes widen. “I teach kids how to ride horses all the time, so I’m used to helping shorties up. Or if you’re uncomfortable with me helping you, I’ll get you a step stool.” He chuckles nervously.
It’s so cute when he gets embarrassed.
“I don’t need a step-stool, just help me up, Mr. Professional.”
He chuckles again as he stands beside me. “Grab the saddle horn,” he says, showing me what exactly the saddle horn is—a knobby part of the saddle in the front that I can wrap my hand around. “Right there with your left hand.” I reach up and grab it. “Hold it tight since you have to pull yourself up. I’ll help where I can.”
I sigh, still standing awkwardly with my foot in the stirrup. It’s almost like I’m trying to do the splits. “I think there’s a problem if I can’t even get on the horse in the first place.”
“You’ll get on. You’ve just never done it before, so it’s a bit awkward. And horses are pretty tall in their own right.” He pauses. “Shorty.”
“Very funny.” The leather of the saddle horn is cool on my hand. “Okay, ready.”
“Now pull yourself up as you swing your right leg around her back. One, two, three!”
I pull and swing, just as he says. I feel his hand push lightly on the small of my back, and before I know it, my leg clears the saddle and I’m sitting on a horse.
A real horse.
I fight the urge to freak out and wrap my arms around her neck to hang on for dear life.
She hasn’t even moved yet.
I take a deep breath. I’m fine. Totally fine.
Not many people would think this is weird or crazy or even awesome. But I do. Bronte decides at that moment to move forward maybe an inch. I wrap both hands around the saddle horn, my eyes wide, my fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. I need to get off this thing. Bronte is all muscle, so powerful, and could seriously buck me off in two seconds and crush me. I try to slow my breathing and pretend like I’m cool and calm. Collected.
What a joke.
Jack must see the terror on my face, since he reaches up, patting my hand. “You’re fine, I promise.” He grabs the reins. “I’m going to lead her around for a few minutes and then I’ll hand the reins over to you and you can try.”
“What? You want me to actually lead this thing?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, and I can he’s trying really hard not to smile or laugh at me. “She’s gentle. Pull the reins this way, she’ll go right. This way, she’ll go left. Hold them straight, she’ll go straight. If you want her to turn, pull hard to the right or left. She’ll do whatever you make her do. And she won’t run unless you make her.”
“Oh, I’m not planning on making her do anything but stand here. Trust me.”
He moves the reins back over her head. “Hang on. I’m going to walk her around for a little bit.”
“Okay.” I hang on to the saddle horn as Bronte starts a slow walk, following Jack and totally ignoring the weird girl silently freaking out on her back. Once we get going, though, it’s not too bad. The slow gait is kind of nice. The cool, horse-stink breeze in my face makes me feel like I know what I’m doing. Sort of.
I could be a cowgirl. For sure.
I chuckle to myself. Right.
Jack stops after we’ve gone around the little pasture twice. “Okay. Your turn.” He hands the reins back to me. “Give her a little tiny kick and she’ll start walking.”
“You want me to kick her?” I ask, horrified at the thought.
“Not a hard kick. Just a little click of your heels.”
I stare at him for a second. “Aren’t you coming?”
“You don’t want to try it yourself?”
“You really trust me to steer this thing? I have no idea what I’m doing. What if she bolts and I fly off the back?”
“She’s not going to bolt. And I’ll ride with you, but on my own horse. Bronte will follow Sherlock anywhere. Stay here.”
He makes sure I’m settled and disappears into the stable.
Bronte moves a little. “No. Don’t do that,” I say. “Keep your hooves on the ground.” She shakes her head, her brown hair cascading down her neck. “You’re a good girl, right?” I stroke the side of her neck. She steps forward again. “Bronte,” I warn, as if I’m a mom scolding her child. Like she knows what I’m saying. I’m like a fly to her. She can flick me away if I get too annoying.
Relief shoots through my body as Jack appears on Sherlock. He rides him up beside us. “Okay. Hold the reins now.” I hesitate, then grab them. “Pull back on them if you want her to stop, but don’t pull too hard or she’ll rear up.”
“Well that makes me want to pull them. And I thought Sherlock didn’t like people.”
“Most people.” He smiles. “He’s mine.”
“Oh, I don’t feel special anymore then.” I try to keep my smile off my face.
He shoots me a look. “Come on. Let’s go join the others.” He leads Sherlock in front of us, and even though I don’t do anything, Bronte follows him. I hang on to the reins, but not tight, since I do want her to follow him.
He goes slow, which I’m thankful for. “You okay?” he asks, looking back at me.
“Surprisingly, yes!”
“Good!” He steers Sherlock toward the girls who are riding over near my house. You can see it through the trees.
“You’re riding!” Mira shouts as we approach.
Jack stops Sherlock and I pull on the reins, lightly, and Bronte does the same.
“How’s riding for your first time?” Mira asks.
“It’s actually not bad.”
I glance at Jack, who grins and then looks away.
“We’ll just ride around for a little bit, and next time we can hit the trails.”
“Trails?”
“There are a few horse trails around here that go up in the mountains. So pretty.”
“You take them in the mountains?” I stare at her. I could just imagine falling off a horse and rolling down a mountain into a river or something.
I think I read too many books.
“Of course we take them in the mountains. Horses aren’t just for rodeos.”
“That sounds . . . fun.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “It will be. Promise.” She glances at her watch. “I’ve gotta get out of here soon.”
“Oh? Do you have plans?”
“Just somewhere I need to be at two. It won’t take long. Maybe an hour.”
“Oh.” I want to ask her where, but she would have told me if she wanted me to know.
“Keep riding for a while and get used to Bronte. I’ll be back later and we can hang out.”
“Okay.”
She says goodbye to the other girls and kicks her horse into a run to make it back to the stables.
“Where is she off to?” I ask Jack.
He watches her go, a sympathetic smile on his face. “That’s her story to tell. Not mine.”
I nod and wonder what Mira
is hiding.
As I watch her go, I wonder why Salem seems to be hiding so many secrets. Past and present. No matter how many more I find, I’m determined to figure them all out.
CHAPTER 18
“It’s such a happiness when good people get together.”
—Jane Austen, Emma
My legs hurt. We’ve been riding for at least a couple hours. I haven’t tried trotting or galloping. I know I’d fly off the horse if I tried any of that nonsense, so I just follow Jack around—or I guess Bronte follows Sherlock around—until we’re ready to go back to the stables.
The girls kind of keep to themselves, since they already know how to ride horses and they still don’t know me very well. They check up on us once, but then race off to another area of the pasture.
I don’t mind. I actually enjoy spending time with Jack. He pulls Sherlock back so our horses are walking side by side. “So?”
“So what?” I ask.
“You getting the hang of it?”
“I think so. She’s pretty easy to control,” I say, turning her to the right to start back down the edge of the pasture again.
“She’s a good horse.”
“Sherlock seems like he’s good, too.”
He shrugs. “Depends on the day. He’s good for me because I know how to control him and keep him calm, but with other people, he can be pretty impulsive.”
“Sounds difficult.”
“Sometimes.”
“So, do you do rodeos and stuff?”
“Sometimes.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Like bucking horses? Or bulls?”
“No. I do team roping. Ashton and I are teammates. We rope steers, if you’ve ever been to a rodeo. I rope the legs, he ropes the head. So, he’s the header, I’m the heeler.”
“I’ve been to a few rodeos. I did live in Wyoming, after all.” I think of the roping events and remember how hard it looked. “I don’t know how you get both feet roped. Isn’t it hard?”
“Really hard. But it’s fun. Ashton and I are pretty good. We’ve been roping for a long time.”
“I’d like to see that someday.”
“Sure.”
A raindrop falls on my nose and I look up. I didn’t notice the few wispy clouds from earlier had turned into darker ones.
“You about ready?” he asks as another drop falls on my forehead. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
“Yeah. We should probably get back.”
I follow Jack back to the stables and he stops and slides off his horse, just as the heavens open up.
I swear, it’s just my luck.
He hurries over to me. “Okay, to get off, just do the same thing you did to get on.”
I nod as rain pelts me in the face. Bronte doesn’t seem to mind; she just stands there. I set down the reins I’m holding and grab onto the saddle horn again. I swing my right leg off, sort of, then get my left foot tangled in the stirrup. Before I know what’s happening, I slip off the wet horse and fall right into Jack’s arms. He steps back to steady himself, loses his balance, and we both fall in the dirt, which is now turning into mud. I’m mortified.
Again.
“Jack!” I yell, wiping rain out of my face. “Oh, no. I can’t believe . . .” I trail off, wanting to crawl in a hole somewhere, but he’s laughing harder than I’ve ever heard him laugh before. He hasn’t let go of me and I’m lying on top of him as the raindrops start to soak us. His hat has flown off and his dark hair is wet and has dirt sprinkled in it, which is also quickly turning into mud.
“That was graceful,” he says, through another round of laughter.
“I’m so sorry! I don’t really know what happened!”
And I didn’t. One minute I was on the horse, the next I was tackling my horse-riding teacher to the ground. It looks like we’ve been mud wresting or something with the water and mud pooling around us.
His arms finally unwrap from around me and I stand, slowly, attempting to wipe the mud from my pants and arms. He stands then, even muddier than me. The back of his white shirt is covered in mud. I can’t even help him get it off and I feel bad I stained his shirt.
I turn around and see Bronte just standing where I left her, possibly sleeping as the rain soaks her. She doesn’t care what’s going on around her at all. Sherlock stands near her, pawing the ground with his hoof.
I face Jack again, wiping wet hair from my face. “Seriously, Jack. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”
He wipes off the back of his pants with his hands, but it doesn’t do much. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad I was right there or you would have landed face down in the mud.”
“It would have been better than smashing you in it!”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m fine. Promise.” I bend over and pick up his hat. I hand it to him, mud and all. “Thanks,” he says, shooting me a grin.
“You’re welcome.”
He’s still smiling, holding his hat and searching my face.
I gulp.
“You two okay?” Summer asks, coming up behind us, still on her horse. The rain has slicked her red hair to the sides of her face. “We should probably get the horses back in the stable.”
I look away from Jack’s piercing eyes and clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Yep,” Jack says. “We’re good. And we’ll be there in a sec.”
“Okay.” She glances between the two of us, then clicks her horse to keep moving and disappears into the stables.
I don’t know what to do now, so I just stand there, meeting Jack’s eyes again.
“Let’s get the horses inside. Take Bronte’s reins and follow me.”
I don’t ask questions, just do as he says, and the rain keeps coming down.
We’re soaked when we make it to the stable. The girls are already there, taking off saddles, brushing down their horses, and wrapping blankets around themselves.
“You’re a mess,” Tiffany says to Jack.
“I know.” He doesn’t tell her why, just starts laughing again. “Lead Bronte into that stall and shut the door. I’ll take care of her in a minute.”
I do as he says.
“You’re pretty messy yourself,” Tiffany says to me. She hands me a little compact mirror and I gasp at how hideous I look. Sprinkles of mud have splattered all over my forehead and left side of my face and my hair is partly out of its ponytail, strands of brown and purple are stuck to my skin. I try to wipe the mud off, but it just smears everywhere instead. I don’t do anything to my hair. There’s no point.
“Oh, I look wonderful,” I say, giving up and handing the compact back to her.
She laughs. “You two make quite the pair.”
I glance over at Jack, who runs a towel over his face and then through his hair. He grins.
“I’m heading out,” Tiffany says. “I’ve gotta be home in five minutes. My horse is fine, so don’t worry about her. I came in before it started raining.”
“Okay. Later, Tiff,” Jack says. After she walks away, he turns to the rest of us. “Let’s get these horses cleaned up,” he says.
I know he’s not talking to me, but I still feel the need to help. I don’t know what to do, though, so I just stand there as Summer and Kay help instead. I feel useless as I watch them towel-dry the horses and brush them out.
“Can I do anything?” I ask Jack as he checks on Bronte.
He hands me a towel. “Just dry off her back while I do the rest. Make sure her hair is standing up and not slicked down so she can dry faster. It’s not cold outside, but we do need to get most of the moisture off of her so she’ll be comfortable.”
I start drying her like he says. I move up her back, into her mane, and rub at her neck. She turns her head to look at me and I pet her cheek. She’s so sweet.
After we get her as dry as we can, Jack opens the stall door and lets us both out.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“I’d like that.”
He’s still covered in mud and I know I am too.
“I should probably get home and take a shower to get all this mud off of me.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks me to the parking lot. “I’m not letting you walk home in this weather.” He opens his truck door. “Get in.”
“No way. I don’t want to ruin your truck.”
“You’re not that muddy.”
“I’m wet, though.”
“So am I.” The rain is still coming down, though not as hard as before. Still, it’s soaking me more as we argue. If you can call it arguing.
“Fine. Just a second.” He shakes his head and walks back in the stable. He comes back a few seconds later with some towels and sets them on my seat and his. “There. Now you don’t have to worry.”
I climb in his truck, raindrops sliding down my face. I wipe them away as I close the door and Jack climbs in the driver’s seat.
He starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot. I don’t see any of the girls. They’re probably still working on the horses.
It’s quiet while we drive, the rain pitter-pattering on the windshield. I wipe away more raindrops that slide down my cheeks and know I probably look like a drowned rat. For some reason, I’m not really embarrassed about it. Probably because he looks just as bad as I do.
Actually, that’s a lie. He looks muddy and wet, but he wears it really well. Which is ridiculous to think about. But it’s true.
He speaks then, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Thanks for letting me teach you today. It was pretty hilarious actually.”
I punch him softly in the arm. “Was not.”
“The rain made things interesting. But if I’m being honest, that dismount you pulled off should go down in the record books. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My face turns red and I can’t help but laugh, even if I’m totally embarrassed. Again. “Not ever,” I say.
“Pretty close!”
“Well, you were a good teacher.”
His eyes widen. “I did not teach you to get off a horse like that.”