The Riding Lesson that Wasn’t #4
“I’m all right,” Maria said. “Except I lost my glasses back there by the shed someplace. I tripped when I was about to get in the ATV, and I didn’t dare to stop. I guess when the police get here I can find them.”
“No, you stay here,” the Rider said. “When the police come you can talk to them at the house. It’s getting dark. It’s not safe for you to ride around alone.”
“It’s perfectly safe for me to go there with the police,” Maria protested.
“Probably, but I think you’ve taken enough chances for one night,” the Rider said. “It’s not your job to protect this ranch.”
“It’s not your job either,” Maria said, “is it? You don’t work for this ranch, do you? Does Uncle Russell have ‘Montana Rider’ on his payroll?”
Even without her glasses, she could tell the Rider was amused.
“No,” he said. “But I feel strongly about this place. Now you’d better go up to the house. The police will be here soon. I’ll make sure you get your glasses.”
“They might be broken,” Maria said. “And it’s getting dark. Maybe I’d better just cash in on my glasses warranty.”
“No, I’ll look for them,” the Rider said. “Where were you exactly when you tripped?”
“At the top of the hill above the shed.”
“No problem. I’ve got a flashlight.” The Rider paused. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said. “Please, be careful going around on the ranch. And if you witness anything else, don’t investigate. Call Tim, call your Uncle Russell, call somebody.”
“Tim’s not been answering his phone all evening,” Maria said. “Nobody knows where he is. And I don’t have his number anyway.”
“Oh.” The Rider looked surprised. “That guy needs to turn his phone volume on. I’ll tell him.”
How did the Montana Rider, who snuck around at night, have so much contact with Tim, when Maria, who worked with Tim—and who thought, at the rodeo, that something was going on between them—had barely seen him for days?
“What has Tim been up to, anyway?” Maria burst out. “Ever since the rodeo, I’ve hardly seen him. Do you know? Is he working on the sabotage thing?”
The Rider hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s pretty stressed about the sabotage,” he said. “On top of regular ranch work, it’s a lot of hours to ride around chasing outlaws.”
“Well, I wish he’d tell me himself,” Maria said. “I’ve been starting to think he’s avoiding me. I wish he’d just trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”
She hadn’t meant to blurt that out to the Montana Rider. She hadn’t realized how much her frustration with Tim had been building up.
“Oh.” The Rider’s face, in shadow, was unreadable. “I know Tim pretty well,” he said, “and I’m confident he isn’t avoiding you. You don’t have to worry about that.”
The tension in Maria’s chest relaxed the tiniest bit. Hopefully the Rider was right.
“Now,” the Rider said, “next time you see something on the ranch, call somebody. I don’t want you running after any more bad guys.”
He probably thought Maria was purposely chasing around after outlaws, after he’d told her multiple times to be careful and not get involved with the ranch sabotage.
“Just so you know,” Maria said, “I wan’t trying to chase outlaws.
I saw the smoke, and I didn’t want the whole ranch to go up in flames. ”
“I get that,” the Rider said. “But the whole ranch isn’t worth your life.” His face was thoughtful in the dim light, and he half extended a hand toward her. “Well”—he dropped his hand, straightening up—“I’d better look for those glasses.”
He swung himself onto his horse—gracefully, just like those riders at the rodeo—and went off, a blurry figure in the dark. Maria headed back to the house. Sirens in the distance indicated the police were on their way.
Where was Tim, anyway? Why had he raced off after Mass without a word of explanation? Why wasn’t he there when the ranch needed him? Maria didn’t understand. She hoped Grandma Austin and Uncle Russell gave him a piece of their minds when he finally showed up.
That night, late, after talking to the police and discussing everything with her loud family, Maria was about to get ready for bed when a tap came at her window. She looked out just as a pebble bounced off the glass half. Somebody down there was trying to get her attention.
Maria pulled the window screen aside and stuck her head out. The Montana Rider sat below on his horse, rather blurry.
“I’ve got your glasses,” he said. “I didn’t want to barge in and bother the whole family. Where can I put them?”
“If you bring them to the side door, I’ll come get them,” Maria said.
How had the Rider known which room was hers? He must have seen her through the window—she hadn’t closed her curtains yet.
She hurried downstairs. She expected the Rider to be there when she opened the side door, but instead, when she opened it, there were the glasses on the doorstep with a piece of paper underneath.
Maria put on her glasses and looked at the paper. “Tim’s phone number,” the paper read. “In case you need it. M.R.”
Of all the unromantic ways to get a guy’s phone number—to have it given to you by another guy who was worried about your wellbeing.