by Kat Quinn
35. Monty
“You can’t say you won fair and square if you also said you always cheated!” Dizzy skips backwards into the stable as I’m getting Terror settled back in with her mother. “Bet you pulled a fast one this time, too!”
“Yeah, fast because I’m the one who won,” Kieran follows, smug grin on his mug.
“Sure, but I demand a re-count from the judges! Bet they’ll have something different to say when they review the footage!”
“What footage?!” He fires back, arms flung out wide. “Did you bring a news crew and referee to a sheep race without me noticing? Admit it, Fireball, I’m the king of the crops, supreme sheep speedster, ultimate champion of champions!” Kieran flexes with each new title.
“Let me guess,” I say, securing the latch to the stall. “You two raced and Kieran cheated, that sum it up?”
“Yes!”
“No.” They reply simultaneously.
Chuckling, I scoop up our picnic basket from the ground and head over. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Kier’s always found a way to come out on top no matter what. Completely legitimately, of course,” I nod to the scowling man. “If any of us ever accused him of cheating, we’d only get trounced twice as hard in the next round. Best to let it go now before the stakes get too high, Diz.”
She sticks her tongue out at him, arms crossed tightly.
“Just pick one,” Kieran says, gesturing towards the horse stalls. “Shouldn’t have made the bet if you weren’t ready to pay up.”
Dizzy huffs, shoulders slamming down hard, but there’s a sly smile twitching at the corner of her lips. I cock a brow at Kieran, but watch as Dizzy dramatically stomps towards a pitch-black stallion and shoots a finger at it, hard. “Him. If I’m going to ride to my death, might as well do it looking like a reaper.” Dizzy whips up the hood of her black jacket, a surprising bulk of her hair finding concealment, really only needing a scythe to complete the look. It is a farm; might be able to scrounge one up if we dig around in the shed.
Kieran whistles appreciatively at the imposing mount. “Saddles?” He asks.
“On it,” I loop an arm through our picnic basket, making room for the mountain of pieces needed to properly tack up a horse. Kieran follows to the storage stall, each of us grabbing a saddle from the rack along with pads and reins.
Years of helping to care for and train the steeds come back naturally, even with a second trip to the storage area I tack up two horses before Kieran finishes one. The entire time, Aria flits around like a humming bird in a flower buffet, excitedly getting a look at every angle of the process. Luckily, Albert’s horses tend to be even-tempered and hard to spook. Even the massive stallion Dizzy claimed, while imposing in stature, is good-natured and easy to work with. He was surprisingly gentle as a young colt, and we often paired him with the more nervous fillies until they found their own way.
Giving Kieran’s work a once-over, I yank the cinch, just to make sure there isn’t too much give to the saddle. One stray strap dangles loosely beneath the horse, forgotten. I clip it in place and pat the patient beast on its pale, broad shoulders. The horse, not Kieran. “Not bad, all things considered.”
“Just because I wasn’t in here much, doesn’t mean I didn’t pay attention,” Kieran responds, grabbing the lead for his horse and guiding it to the door. It follows without protest, calmly keeping pace with Kieran’s leisurely request.
“Alright Diz, you ready?” I back out of Kieran’s stall and wave her over. “You might want to introduce yourself to him, let the two of you get comfortable with one another.” Picking up the discarded brushes, I head back to the storage room to grab an extra blanket and saddle bag for good measure, loading our basket into one side and blanket into the other.
By the time I pop out of the space, Dizzy’s leaning into her horse’s enclosure, yammering away, asking it how many knees he has and boasting about her own. Wasn’t aware that knees were a boast-worthy feature before today, but I can’t say they aren’t useful.
“Only you,” I mumble, shaking my head. With a small whistle to get its attention, my speckled horse easily emerges from its opened enclosure, waiting patiently for my next orders. Gently tugging on its reins, I lead us both towards the woman still holding a completely one-sided conversation with her captive audience.
“Anyway, I figure if we team up we’ll be the scariest thing out there, with your boom boom bigness and murder chompers, and my… well, sometimes I can throw a fireball. So, that. What I’m trying to say is, this goes beyond just a truce, we’re full-on partners now, bud! And I’m counting on you, so you can count on me, too.” She nods decisively, then stretches a hand out towards the horse, who remains completely unfazed. Its nostrils flare slightly, but otherwise, seems wholly unconcerned with making any kind of deal to conquer the planet, or whatever Dizzy has planned.
“Well, if you’re ready, open the door and reach for his reins.” Helpfully, I raise my own to demonstrate. “All you need to do is give them a light tug and he should follow, no problem.”
Steeling herself, Dizzy takes a deep breath, puffing out her chest and straightening her spine before making her move, gently grabbing the lead with obvious trepidation. As expected, her stallion follows easily, almost bored in its barely attentive movements; just another day at the shop for him. Doesn’t even flinch when Aria lands on his neck, splaying herself up it, legs dangling over either side.
“You two gonna hurry the hell up or should I watch the damned grass grow for another fuckin’ century,” Kieran shouts from outside.
“You’ve been on my ass about this all day, just chill for like half a second, okay?!” Dizzy snips back. “Geez, you’d think there was a limited amount of time left in the world and he was worried it was all going to get used up in one go,” she says to herself, deliberately slowing down.
As we pass her stall, Terror lets out a little whinny, reaching her head over the door. Without pause, Dizzy pats the young filly’s nose, an action at odds with the somewhat blatant distance she’s keeping from the other horse.
Seconds later, we emerge from the stable, but from the exasperated sigh and skyward-gaze Kieran lets loose, you’d think it had taken us an eternity. “You gonna be alright there, Kier? Because we could always go back in and make a second entrance if this one wasn’t good enough for you.”
His scowl snaps to me, “I’m ready for a good run. Between the drive and all this casual strolling? It’s time to get moving!” Rubbing both hands together like a bond villain, he waggles an eyebrow at Dizzy. “Plus, I’m ready to see our Fireball fly. Ten bucks says it’s the second best ride of her life.” Winking, his grin is toothy and suggestive; completely unashamed.
Rolling her eyes, Dizzy cocks a hip to the side and tries to look casual, still loosely holding her tether. “I don’t know, maybe Ebony Thunder and I are going to run away together and leave you losers behind. Maybe I’ll become a horse girl forever and you’ll regret ever letting me loose on the farm!”
Blinking, “Ebony Thunder?” Is all I can get out.
She shrugs, “Seemed better than Terrance. Or Oscar.”
Blinking a few more times to process, I let it pass, glancing at the large letters embroidered on the stallion’s saddle. “Right. Well, let’s get you up there on ‘Ebony Thunder’ and get you both trotting.” Air quotes included, of course. Hopefully, our gentle Romeo doesn’t mind the renaming.
Demonstrating on my own mare, and with the help of a boost from Kieran, Dizzy manages to mount with about as much grace as anyone on their first try does. Which, all things considered, is probably more than we could have hoped for.
36. Dizzy
Yup. I’m on a horse. I’m on a freaking horse. I’m a million miles up in the sky, and on a motherfucking horse!!! My stomach zips around inside its fleshy cage, part from excitement, part from nerves, and part from hunger. It’s well past lunchtime at this point, but I guess an empty stomach is a good stomach if you’ve spent half the day either
too scared or too excited to be sure it’ll all stay down.
Light on his feet, Kieran leaps into his own saddle like frog royalty, joining Monty and I in our extended height adventure.
“Alright Diz, sit up straight and hold the reins,” Monty instructs, demonstrating. “When you’re ready, squeeze your feet together lightly and he should ease forward slowly.”
Kieran gets his pale horse going and does a lap around us, pulling on the reins to stop once they’re back by my side. Both mount and rider looking poised and regal.
“Easy, peasy, horse-side squeezie,” Monty comments. “Give it a go, girl!”
My nose twitches, but E.T. and I have a deal to rule the world together, so it’s time to buckaroo up and get my cowgirl on. Squinting my eyes closed, barely peeking through the lashes, I give my feet in the stirrups a tiny tap.
“Eep!” I squeak. Beneath me, Ebony Thunder takes a slow step, his large body lurching both of us forward and bumping me upwards in the process. One foot after the other, he paces onward; each step jolting up my spine like an electric shock. Obviously appropriate for a thunder beast.
“Good, good, now, loosen up a bit; let your body flow to his rhythm. Don’t fight against it, join it.” Monty says to my left. Creaking my eyes open more, I notice he’s keeping pace with me and E.T., just a few inches away in case I need him. My heart melts a little, body following suit and becoming way more fluid.
Kieran wolf-whistles, “That’s my girl, ride it like you mean it!”
My heart pounds, “I’m doing it!” I crow, fist-pumping my success–a move I immediately regret as I start to teeter on the seat. Flapping my arms and squealing for a second does nothing, so I grab for the grabby-nub in front of me, long since having dropped the lead.
“Woah, woah,” Monty’s deep voice rings out, both our horses stopping. One warm hand lands on my shoulder, steadying; giving me the grounding point I need to not fall apart. “I got you. Good start, but always keep your hands on the reins.” Testing to make sure I’m steady, Monty grabs the line I dropped, offering it up. “Good to go again?” My zipping-around stomach still makes a couple of renegade hops, but Monty’s hand on my shoulder stops it from bouncing too high, keeping my insides on the inside.
Tightening my hand around the strap, I straighten my spine again and nod sharply. Monty side-steps his horse to the left a little, giving us space–but not so much he couldn’t jump in again if I do something stupid. Carefully, I squeeze my legs together a tiny bit, ready for that first jolt of movement. Keeping my lower back loose, I move with Thunder’s natural rhythm, not wanting to pulverize my pelvis by getting it slammed against too hard. Which, admittedly, is something I’m way more in danger of while wearing far fewer clothes.
“There you go, easy,” Monty encourages. “If you press with your right foot only, he’ll make a right turn. Ready to give it a try?”
“Mm-hmm,” I nod. Following his instructions, I guide Ebony Thunder in a large, unsteady ring around Kieran, sitting upright with both bulging arms crossed like an all-powerful genie ready to grant tricky wishes. Letting up the pressure to go straight again, I try the opposite; left foot, left turn. “Oh. Hey! Horses are way easier than cars!” Lots of dials and knobs on those to get overwhelmed and distracted by. Turns out, horses are just horses!
Both men chuckle. “Told you, shit wasn’t worth being freaked out by, Fireball. Especially Albert’s horses.”
I ignore the comment because I’m a woman of grace, and beauty, and dignity. Just ask anyone... as long as it’s not anyone I know.
“Ready to kick it up a notch?” Monty asks.
Brimming from ear to ear, “Totally!” This time, I’m careful to keep a tight hold on the reins with one hand while letting the other pump my success into the sky. Progress! From her lounging position on E.T.’s neck, Aria hoots a happy chirrup, burying her hands into the horse’s black mane and holding on tight.
“Give him another squeeze, just a bit tighter than before–not too much.” Monty cautions.
Ebony Thunder takes off at a breakneck speed, booming by faster than light and sound. Definitely bringing the storm all on his own.
“Too much, too much! Loosen your legs, pull on the reins!” There’s a double pounding of hooves, then triple as both men follow, shouting instructions.
Aria squeals, letting out a long, high-pitched, exuberant yip. My heart races, hard, screaming to be set free from my chest and whipped around freely like a stripper’s bra. If I was afraid before, it got slapped right off my face by the strong winds of reality and replaced by a thick plastering of… joy. Cackling, I shoot over my shoulder, “Keep up, boys!”
I’d call this a race, but then Kieran would cheat, and I can’t support bad horsemanship.
“Whoop! Now we’re talkin’. Giddyup!” Kieran snaps the reins and leans forward, gaining speed. Mimicking him, I’m rewarded with an even greater burst of speed, loving the cool wind as it glances off my skin, billowing the edges of my cotton jacket like a cape. My hood flies off, setting free the wild purple explosion of curls it had barely been containing in the first place. “Head for the hills!” Kieran shouts, pointing off in the distance, clapping his legs against the side of his steed to steal the lead.
Darn. Must know that this absolutely is, but definitely also isn’t, a race.
Monty pulls up next to me, keeping pace, even after I urge Ebony Thunder faster. My body easily adjusts to the horse’s rhythm, the two of us naturally learning to work in time with each other, like the tides ebbing and flowing under a moon’s influence.
My laughter is a shrill cackle of joy, pure and free, full of life. No wonder Kieran was hot under the collar to get a ride in before we went back home. “This is great!” I shout between hoots and hollers. “Why didn’t you guys tell me horses were so great?!”
It’s subtle, but I’m pretty sure Monty snorts. Best not be thinkin’ sass.
“More, more!” I hoot, urging E.T. onwards. I know there’s more he can do, faster he can go, further he can speed. We fly, hoofbeats thunderous, true to his name as we race against time itself. All the while, Monty and his speckled horse keep the pace, if only just barely.
We circle the entire earth a dozen times—or at least that’s what it feels like—before catching up to Kieran, already standing on the ground next to his mount; arms crossed, grinning smugly. Some day, I’m going to prove he cheated again, the lint-licker.
Pulling on Thunder’s reins, we slow to a halt, my displeased grumbles doing nothing to convince Kieran to concede a post-victory defeat. “Better luck next time,” he coos without a hint of humility, decidedly pleased with himself.
“I totally had you that time!” Scowling, I continue. “Just like the damned sheep all over again, you’re pulling a trick and I want to know your secretsssssssssssssss,” I hiss.
“Just honest to goodness good luck, and skill.” He responds, still standing with thick arms folded, sturdy legs spaced apart in an imposing stance. Too bad for him I know he’s only growly on the outside. Well, and the inside, too… But, like, not all the way on the inside. There’s a fluffy puppy in there somewhere.
Maybe it’s petty, but I pull out the big insult guns and jut my tongue out at him, crossing my own arms in defiance. That’ll show him to try and pull one over on me!
“Well if it’s like that, good luck getting down without falling on that luscious ass of yours,” he says, turning and clomping down the hill towards a pond at the bottom of it.
“Hey, wait! I didn’t mean it!” A lie. A complete and utter lie. The bastard owes me some fair and square, and I intend to wring it out of him some day! No more cheater, cheater, pumpkin-eater.
“Like I’d just leave you hanging,” Monty says from the ground, one hand offered upwards. “Take my hand, then swing one leg over the back of the horse, keeping the other in the stirrup. I’ll keep you steady, just in case.”
Grabbing tightly to him with my left hand, I swing my right over Thunder’s rump,
a little too enthusiastically. My left foot twists and slips in the foot-holder-thingy, a spinning dive towards the ground pretty much inevitable.
“Oof!” Instead, I thunk solidly into Monty’s chest, both his arms firmly wrapping around me in a major-leagues-worthy catch. Didn’t even stumble, the lucky never-had-a-fight-with-gravity-he-didn’t-win duck.
With great care, Monty lowers me to the ground until each foot is solidly returned to it, holding us both steady a few seconds more for good measure. “You good?”
I nod quickly. “Mm-hmm, totally. My hero, and all that.” Danger, danger, avert your gaze! Leading man swoon-worthy tactics have been enacted! Pitter-patters in the heart imminent, abandon ship! Abandon ship! Ship too complicated to steer without further communication! “I, uh… Thanks. Good. Good thanks.” Take a breath. “I’m good, thanks.” Double thumbs up, for good measure. “Oh hey, is that a distraction?!” I shout without actually pointing anywhere, taking the opportunity to awkwardly stride away, shaking my head. Great work, Dizzy, real smooth. Ya dink.
Twirling quickly, “Oh, wait, what do I do about… this?” I gesture sort of generally at Ebony Thunder, my head cocked to the side expectantly. The horse is standing in place, looking at nothing; barely a care in the world.
Monty just shoves a hand into his pocket, tucking a bundle under the other while tromping towards the pond, leaving all our rides to fend for themselves. Shrugging, I follow. They’re the horse experts, I’m just the newly-minted horse intern. They’re probably finnnnne. Pfffft.
There’s a skip in my step as I head back down the hill; greeted by Kieran’s bare, white ass as he wades into the water. A shiver zips up my spine, immediately pulling my jacket tighter. “What the hell are you doing?!”
Spinning to face us then flopping onto his back, both arms spread wide, Kieran’s face is lit up like a whole Whoville’s worth of Christmas trees. “Enjoying myself! Come on in, the water’s fine!”
