Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
GRAYSON
“ G rayson Taylor, you son of a bitch. You said you’d never step foot on this ranch again.”
Aw, shit.
The grizzled old man comes forward, and it’s hard to make out his expression from underneath his cowboy hat, but his words aren’t promising.
“Hey, Rodney.” I rub at the back of my neck, aware of everyone’s gaze on me. Most are curious, but Mom looks like she’s about ready to blow a gasket. The only thing is, I’m not sure if she’ll attack me or Rodney.
He pushes the brim of his hat up so his weathered features are visible, and a grin splits his face, his tobacco-stained teeth on display. “I’m just yanking your chain, boy. Good to see you again.”
He claps me on the back, and my insides go loose with relief. Didn’t want to fight a man who has to be nearing his seventies by now.
Next to me, Abby quirks a brow up, clearly asking me to explain what that was about.
“I worked here one summer in high school,” I tell her. “Rodney was my boss.”
“And you said you’d never come back?”
My weight shifts from foot to foot before I force myself to stop. “Not exactly. He wanted me to keep working here during the school year, but I had football practice and couldn’t. Things got a little heated when I put in my two weeks.”
When he told me I was lucky he gave me a job in the first place, I told him he was lucky I was willing to shovel horse shit all day for minimum wage and that it’d be a cold day in hell before I did it again. He’d laughed long and loud about it, so I don’t think he was too mad, but true to my word, I haven’t been back since.
Horseback riding is on Harper’s itinerary today, though, and Lucky Ranch is the closest place to Crescent Pass to offer something like this.
“Well, Grayson here is already a pro,” Rodney announces to the group, a twinkle in his eye, “but the rest of you will need to listen to the safety briefing.”
Our group today consists of everyone from yesterday, plus Mom, and minus the kids, who are in school. They listen as Rodney goes over how to mount and dismount the horse, and how to use the reins to steer and stop, but my mind wanders, having heard the same spiel a hundred times during that summer over a decade ago.
The earthy smell of manure is pungent in the air, but mixed with the fresh air and sweet scent of hay from the bales next to us, it’s not so bad. It’s nostalgic in a way, and I take a deep breath, remembering how I’d become nose blind to it before. Mom would yell at me as soon as I’d come home to put my clothes in the washer and take a shower. Kristen would theatrically plug her nose if I got near her, but Dad and Owen never cared.
And Abby. She was there too a lot, holed up in Kristen’s room, sometimes peeking out from the door frame to see what the fuss was about. She was a regular fixture in the house, but I never paid much attention to her.
I glance over at her now, studiously listening to Rodney’s instructions, and feel again that tug in my stomach, the same one from yesterday when she’d looked up at me with the flower crown on her head, happiness radiating from her. It had been so unexpected, I’d unthinkingly blurted out that it looked good on her. And all thoughts of asking her to take a selfie to send to my mom had fled as she’d blushed prettily in response, somehow heightening that joy.
Did she do it because Harper’s friends were watching? That’s the only thing I can figure.
But that doesn’t explain my reaction. How beautiful I thought she looked. I’ve never thought of Abby like that. She’s just been… Abby.
She glances up at me, like she sensed my gaze, and I look away toward the stables where our horses are waiting for us in their stalls. Would it matter if she caught me looking at her? No. But do I want her to catch me?
Before the past couple of days, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But now, I don’t know. Something’s… changed.
I’m just not sure what.
I breathe a sigh of relief as another thought occurs to me. I’m only on edge because of this stupid lie I told Mom. That’s why I’m thinking of Abby differently. Not because there’s anything actually different.
The answer is so simple, I almost smack my forehead with the obviousness of it all. And now that I know, it won’t happen again.
Rodney is leading the group over to the stalls and I hurriedly catch up, breathing in the musky scent of leather and horse. Golden patches of light filter in through the wooden beams overhead, the silence interrupted by the occasional soft nicker from a horse or rustle of hay.
A boy who looks to be in his late teens joins Rodney to assist him as he matches each person to a horse and gets them mounted.
“Grayson, get the two at the far end over there for you and your girl,” Rodney calls out, gesturing toward the back of the stables.
I startle for a moment at the mention of Abby as my girl, but to be fair, I’ve been standing close to her the whole time, aware that Mom’s keeping an eye on us. Even so, is that what people see when they look at us? I guess that means we’re doing a good job with the act, at least.
Abby doesn’t comment on his assumption as she follows me.
“Looks like we’ve got a chestnut and a gray,” I tell her as we approach the last two stalls. “Take your pick.”
“This gray one seems sweet.” She looks at the placard on the front of the stall. “Houdini. That’s a cute name for a horse.”
Looks like I’ll be taking Kentucky then.
The horses are ready to go, but I double check the tack, making sure everything is secure before I lead Houdini out of the stall for Abby.
“When was the last time you rode?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Never. It’s my first time.”
I grin. “Come on, even the Chicago girls have ridden before.”
Her lips twist ruefully. “Yeah, I’m not super adventurous. But I’m working on it.”
“Really? How?”
Her mouth opens and shuts before she finally says, “Just trying to get out of my comfort zone lately. This week being one example.”
Fair enough. “All right, well come face the horse here and give me your left leg.”
Her brow furrows in confusion. “My leg?”
“Yeah. Bounce up with your right foot while I lift you, then swing your right leg over.”
She’s lighter than I expected as I help her up, and I wait until she has the reins firmly in hand before I get on Kentucky.
I motion for her to follow me a little ways away from the rest of the group still mounting, and she blinks at me, then the horse, as if she doesn’t know what to do. Houdini eventually does it for her, instinctively following my horse.
“You comfortable?” I ask her. “Saddle okay?”
She gives me a shaky smile, clearly nervous. “This is higher up than I thought it’d be.”
“You’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Houdini knows what to do.”
“Grayson, you take the back of the line,” Rodney calls out as he leads the rest of the group onto the trail, his palomino one I don’t recognize from before. He used to have a spitfire bay stallion.
But a lot can change in nearly fourteen years.
Mom takes the lead behind Rodney, followed by Kristen, Eli, Owen, Harper, Elena, and Kelly. Abby’s horse falls into line behind Kelly’s and mine brings up the rear. We move ahead at a comfortable pace as the trail winds through the forest, the towering trees overhead providing shade against the midday sun.
A cool breeze lifts Abby’s dark blonde hair from the back of her neck, her body swaying in time with Houdini’s gait, and I watch her for a moment, surprised again remembering yesterday and how easy it was to talk to her, how she’d somehow gotten me to open up about things I hadn’t even fully articulated to myself, let alone another person. Is it because she’s so unassuming? Because something about her feels trustworthy? Or because she’s become my accomplice in this deception we have going on?
I shake my head, trying to put thoughts of her out of my mind, focusing instead on the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the forest floor, the creak of the saddle underneath me, the distant chatter of the group ahead of us, Rodney too far to even see now at the front of the line.
I’ve forgotten how meditative nature can be out here, a sense of peace stealing over me the same way it did yesterday on the hike. The resinous scent of evergreens and damp earth swirls in the breeze, and I let my mind float, unable to remember the last time I relaxed like this. Like I told Abby, I hardly even go outside anymore back home. There’s always work to do.
The reminder of work and all the emails piling up over this week-long vacation has my shoulders tightening until I consciously loosen them. Work will be there when I get back next week. And my boss told me not to check in, that they have everything covered while I’m gone.
My horse stops moving, jerking me out of my thoughts, and I realize Abby’s horse has stopped ahead, distracted by a patch of grass it begins grazing on.
Abby ineffectually tugs at the reins. “Houdini, um… this way.” She points ahead, to the gap forming between her and Kelly’s horse.
I grin to myself and ride up next to her. “Here.” Taking the reins from her, I show her how to redirect the horse until it moves again, albeit at a snail’s pace.
“Houdini, we’re going to lose the group,” she says. There’s a bend in the trail up ahead, and as Kelly’s horse rounds it, we lose sight of the rest of our party completely. “Come on.”
She digs her heels into the horse’s flank in an attempt to get it to move faster, and Houdini shies away, jerking Abby in her saddle.
Something in my chest drops to my stomach as Abby tries to reseat herself and in the process somehow spooks Houdini further, causing him to bolt away from the trail and through the forest undergrowth.
“Abby!” I choke out, spurring my horse to follow hers, a surge of fear snaking around my ribs.
She’s precariously close to falling off, her body listing to the left, her hands white-knuckled on the reins. And the worst part is she’s not even screaming, but making these strangled gasps that are somehow worse.
The scrub is too thick here to get beside her, so I follow as close as I can, telling her I’m here, urging her to right herself, but she keeps getting bumped and banged around too much to do anything other than hold on to the little purchase she has, sliding even further down Houdini’s side. Her right foot flails for the stirrup, but she’s nowhere near it now.
We scrape past outstretched tree limbs and thick brush, everything rushing past at a blur, and my heart lurches into my throat as Houdini jumps over a fallen log, unseating her even more.
I take Kentucky over the same log and there’s finally enough room to maneuver next to Abby. I grab her under the arms and yank her toward me, her left foot thankfully dislodging from the stirrup and reins going slack in her grip as she drapes sideways over my lap.
Houdini continues on crashing through the undergrowth, no change in his stride now that Abby’s off his back. Best to let him tire himself out and he’ll eventually find his way back to the ranch.
I slow Kentucky to a halt and guide Abby to the ground, where she crumples in a heap. My pulse is beating painfully in my ears as I dismount, running my hands over her, checking to see if she’s hurt anywhere.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, over and over, unsure if the words are even making it past my lips with the way my brain’s moving a million miles a minute. She could have broken her arm or leg, cut herself, got a concussion—
“I’m okay,” she replies shakily, and I crush her to my chest, my heart still pounding, adrenaline racing through me.
She clings to me in return, both of us in an awkward position kneeling on the forest floor, but I don’t care about that right now as relief pours over me. So many things could have gone wrong. One slip-up and she could have been seriously injured, or worse. Maybe if I hadn’t chased Houdini he would’ve calmed on his own, but how could I chance it with Abby at risk?
“I couldn’t catch my breath,” she says, still struggling to breathe. “And it only kept getting worse.”
“I know.” I smooth a hand over her hair, dislodging a leaf out of the strands, unable to say anything else. I want to tell her she’s never getting on a horse again. I saw how nervous she was to begin with. I should have ensured she had a calmer horse, one who wouldn’t spook. Thinking about it now, Houdini was probably named for his temperament, disappearing off the trail like that with no warning.
“I’m sorry,” she says, finally pulling away. “God, I’m so stupid. I can’t even ride a horse right.” She wipes under her eyes, smearing the dirt on her face around.
“Hey, no.” I move her hands from her face, hating the tears forming in her eyes. “None of that was your fault. Houdini’s a fucking jackass.”
A grin reluctantly crosses her lips, even as a tear slips down her cheek. “He’s a horse.”
“Well, Rodney needs to take him out of rotation for trail rides. Or make sure he at least only has an experienced rider.”
She nods, wiping again at her eyes. “He looked so sweet. I guess looks can be deceiving.”
Yeah, they can. Like how I’ve never given Abby a second look before, and now… she’s all I can see.
Wait. Where the hell did that thought come from? That’s not what’s happening. I was only so worried about her because she’s… because she’s my sister’s best friend. I’ve known her forever, of course I care about her. I mean, care if something happens to her.
That’s all this is. It doesn’t mean…
My breath catches for a moment before I exhale. It doesn’t mean anything else.
“Looks like I lost my horse,” she says, standing.
“Yeah.” I stand, too, my heart rate finally back in normal range, and try to gauge how far we are from the trail. “He’ll find his way back. It’s us I’m more concerned about.”
Abby looks around uneasily. “I hope the rest of them aren’t worried. If they even noticed we’re missing.”
Right. The others. Shit, did we mess up Harper’s itinerary?
I pull my phone out of my pocket. “I’ll text the family group chat and let them know we’ll meet them back at the stable.”
She glances over at Kentucky, the horse calmly waiting for direction from me. If only I’d put Abby on this horse to begin with. “Can we both ride your horse back?”
Normally, I’d say no since it’s uncomfortable for both the riders and horse to double up like that, but the last thing I need is for Abby to trip over something out here in this dense scrub and break her leg for real.
“Yeah, just until we get back to the trail. Might be a little squished, though.”
I hoist her up in the saddle and follow. The only way to do this is for her backside to be fully flush against my front, one of my arms around her waist to make sure she’s secure.
I swallow heavily as she presses against me, hesitating for a moment before giving Kentucky the signal to go. This shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s an emergency kind of situation.
But wasn’t I thinking earlier how something has changed?
No, I decided that’s because of this fake interest we’re putting on for Mom’s benefit.
Then why am I reacting to Abby like this?