Chapter 12 #2
“Silas, dear, tell him what horses to bring.” She waved at him.
Silas barely managed to stifle a groan, exhaling instead as he requested Scar and Outlaw to be brought to them.
“Outlaw? You have quite a flair for naming horses,” Agnes mumbled sarcastically as they walked out of the gazebo.
“They are my horses; I can name them whatever I wish,” Silas said, almost sounding petulant.
He then gave Agnes a once over and asked, “Are you sure you are well enough to be riding?”
Agnes sighed, long-suffering, and pointed at him in warning. “The next person who fusses over my well-being will receive my wrath.”
Silas raised his hands and stepped away, exhaling in relief as the horses arrived. He reached for Scar’s reins and nodded in Agnes’ direction, and the other horse was taken to her.
“Do not worry,” he told her as she eyed the saddle uncertainly. “I bought another, and I made Simon ensure that they were thoroughly checked before any horse was saddled.”
Agnes nodded and prepared to mount, confused when Silas held her arm and asked her,
“Wait… don’t you… can you do it?”
“So help me God, Silas –”
He didn’t wait for her to finish her statement, returning his attention to his own horse.
He mounted easily, and when he looked back to her to see if she was doing all right, she had already settled on her own horse, stroking his mane and whispering compliments to him.
Silas urged Scar to walk, and Outlaw followed behind, with Agnes looking quite at home on top of the stallion.
She called out to him, and when he looked in her direction, she asked.
“Do you want to race?”
“I don’t think –”
“That oak tree!” She pointed at a tree in the distance. “The last one there owes the winner a favor!”
Silas barely heard the last words in her statement before she darted forward, kicking Outlaw into a canter that quickly increased into a run.
Cursing under his breath, he urged Scar to do the same, a little distracted by the way Agnes’ hair whipped around behind her in the wind.
He could hear her laugh, could practically feel the excitement she was intoxicated with as she bounced atop her saddle, the gap between them widening more and more.
She won the race – even running past the tree – and circled her horse back around while Silas slowed down as he arrived at it, dismounting to wait for her, thankful that his worries had been for nothing and she was truly feeling much better.
She dismounted and flopped on her back onto the grass with a sigh of relaxation.
There was a lake close to where they were, its shimmering waters filling Silas with a slight semblance of peace.
Agnes stared up at the sky, appearing deep in thought, shielded from the sun by the thick leaves of the tree.
Every now and again, a beam of sunlight would pass through the cluster of leaves and leave a bright spot on her skin, lighting up her pretty eyes and making Silas’ skin itch with heavy want.
He had barely scolded himself for being unable to keep his thoughts at bay before she chuckled slightly, then again – louder – laughing and laughing until her body began to shake, cheeks flushed deep red.
He was a little confused by her display of mirth, and when he tried to ask her if she had taken leave of her senses, he noticed the tears streaming down her face.
Her eyes were closed, and her hands had come up to press against her mouth, but he could still hear the little sob ripping out of her throat, and the tears did not stop.
Silas felt a sting in his heart at the sight of her weeping, and he sat down next to her, unsure of what to do. He reached out to her but stopped before his hand could come in contact with hers, pulling back as he cleared his throat.
“When… when I was ten, my parents took me to see a traveling carnival.
My mother had spent hours the day before telling me tales of the ones she had seen when she was a little girl, and – and they sounded too good to be true.
But still, I was excited for it. When we arrived…
I was in awe. It was everything I had imagined and more.
The vibrant colors in sight, the sounds of laughter, applause, and cheers, the smell of sweets in the air… I could never forget it.
“My favorite of the performances we watched involved a gymnast duo and their horses. Beautiful creatures draped in white garments decorated with red jewels. The acrobats were interesting, but the horses were the most amazing things I’d ever seen.
Strong and disciplined, reliable and loyal.
I could not stop talking about them for days on end – and I only did because my father had bribed me to stop by promising to take me to see the carnival again whenever it was in town.
He also said he would speak to my grandfather to teach me about horses.
When they passed – my parents… horses were the other things in my life that made sense.
Caring for them, riding them, and spending time with them made me feel alive like my lungs still worked and I had not just…
faded without realizing it. And when my grandfather gave Scar to me, it felt as though I was back at that carnival, surrounded by life and color and hope. ”
He stopped, tearing his eyes away from the water to glance at her, relieved to find her looking right back at him. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and carefully dabbed at her damp cheeks, thankful when she let him without a fuss.
“I think they saved me. Horses. I think that they’re saving me every day, taking away my worries and burdens with every moment I spend with them. That’s why I love them so much.”
He had never told anyone that, had never felt inclined to share a precious memory he had made mere weeks before his parents passed. But with her, it all came out easily, frighteningly so. But he found out that he did not mind a single bit.
Agnes felt calmer, lured back to peace by his story, shocked that he would share something so personal without being asked to.
His vulnerability eased back the walls she had tried to hold up around him, and she found that she did not mind that, oddly content with not thinking of him as disdainfully as she had grown to.
With a light sniff, she muttered, “thank you.”
He shifted his gaze back to the water, allowing how it shimmered beneath the sun to remind him of gleaming jewels and twinkling stage lights, more than content to share this space with her, as he had with his fondest memory.
“Of course.”