Eight - Just The Guy #2
We dismount at the far entrance, away from the commotion.
I keep my eyes on Ruin, making sure there’s nothing suggesting he’s getting too nervous.
He’s just swiveling his head, taking in all the new stimuli—sounds of the announcer’s voice over crackling speakers, distant whinnying, the metallic clang of jumps being set inside the main arena. Fine for now.
I tug my hood lower, adjust my sunglasses, scanning the nearest people. No one’s looking my way. Good .
“Whoa, man. I ain’t got no money,” Eli says.
I do a double-take his way. “…What?”
“You gonna rob someone, right? Maybe a bank after?” he adds, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Or is this more a ‘bombing a public building’ look? I get’em confused.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but I still reach for my mask self-consciously. “What do you suggest? A neon sign saying ‘Yes, it’s him’?”
“Ain’t that what you’re going for with this?” He waves a hand in front of this , meaning all of it.
I swat his hand away. “Fine, I get it. It’s too much.”
Before I can dodge, his hand reaches up and tugs my hood back. “Lose the hood. Keep the cap, and either the glasses or the mask, not both. Looking like you’re trying to hide is what gets people curious.”
“That’s counter-intuitive bullshit.” I keep the mask, take off the sunglasses, just so he can see I’m glaring at him. And because the event is inside, apparently. Sunglasses make less sense.
“Don’t worry,” he says, adjusting his own hat. “Stick next to me, no one’s gonna notice you.”
“Yeah, right.”
His smile is infuriating—knowing, patient—like I’m a colicky foal who doesn’t understand the world yet. Maybe I am. Not feeling all that confident, here. But as he turns AP toward the arena entrance, I just swallow the nerves and tug Ruin’s lead so we follow.
It’s a local show, not the Olympics. These people most likely don’t even follow elite showjumping. Probably. I don’t know. Regardless, who’d expect Cassian Vale to show up at a junior event in Nowhere-ville? I’m being paranoid.
We lead the horses through a side gate, Eli nodding to a security guy who waves us through without asking names or checking credentials. The venue isn’t large by professional standards, but it’s well-maintained—newer than I expected for a small town facility.
The main arena is standard size, with clean white fences and proper footing.
Not high-end technical sand, but decent composition by the looks of it.
The grand-stands are maybe a quarter full, mostly parents and local supporters, just watching by as the last obstacles are being set up. No one is jumping yet.
Ruin’s head is high, alert but not panicked. He sticks close to my shoulder like we practiced, his presence massive enough that people naturally give us space as we move through the grounds. That’s something, at least.
“Oh, goodness! Ain’t that Eli? Eli, over here!”
The voice booms from across the arena. I snap my head to it before Eli’s does, and before a dozen other heads snap our way.
My stomach knots. Fuck, I don’t like this.
They’ll know it’s me. I try to keep my breaths calm, touch my mask to make sure it’s on properly.
And I angle my body toward Ruin, just a bit, so I can hide my face under the guise of checking on him.
He’s so calm it’s honestly disrespectful.
Soon, I spot a thickset, balding man rushing our way, waving both arms above his head. Eli gives a low, surprised laugh, giving me a glance and AP’s lead before striding over.
“Hey, Pete,” Eli says, taking off his hat before they clasp hands for a second, then ditching that for a proper hug. One of those strong ones, full of unspoken old history.
Almost at once, a few more people peel off from the fence. Then some more from outside where we just came from, others zooming down the stands. Among the extended hands, the hugs, the backslaps, I lose count of how many there are, some saying hi and then giving space for others to get nearer.
Most look older, easy in their work boots, as if they’ve stood on this exact dirt their entire lives. Some kids too, including a small girl in a pink dress with princesses and horses. Eli holds her up and keeps her on his arm as he speaks to the others, her thin arms wrapped around his neck.
A tall woman with short ash-gray hair elbows in beside Pete, grinning wide and hugging both him and the little girl. “Haven’t seen you in ages, sweetheart! Your momma doin’ any better since her injury?”
Eli gives a small nod. “On the mend. I tell her to sit down, she tells me to mind my business. You know how it is.”
People laugh around them. “As if a sprained ankle could stop her,” another woman calls, creating a wave of nods and good-natured head shakes.
Someone ruffles Eli’s hair as if he’s still a boy. “We missed you ‘round here, kid,” the gruff man says, voice gentle. “Stop bein’ a stranger. Your ranch ain’t that far.”
Eli ducks his head, a little bashful, but the warmth between them is unmistakable. Even if he hasn’t been here in a while, you can see whose town this really is.
I stand awkwardly to the side, Ruin’s and AP’s leads in my hand, just observing. Eli chats with them easily, asking about horses, family members. He knows these people— really knows them. And not once do any of them glance my way with recognition.
It’s... freeing. And strangely deflating. Like I’m somehow failing because no one notices me.
I’m used to being the center of attention even out of equestrian events.
But in these, if I need to go through public areas for any reason, I have security around, making way, blocking fans.
I’m always the one people whisper about, point at, approach with nervous excitement if they manage to get to me out in the world.
I’ve signed more autographs in chance meetings going in and out of hotel lobbies than I do at meet-and-greets. People notice me.
Out there, I’m the Golden Boy of showjumping. I’m the Perfect Riding Machine from the Vale Performance Team.
Here, I’m just the guy holding the horses.
“We should get those two settled,” Eli finally says, nudging his head our way and setting the little girl down.
Pete nods, clapping Eli’s shoulder as they drift from the rest of the group and come closer. “Your spot’s all set up. We moved everything back a smidgen like ya asked, bit more of a buffer.”
“Appreciate it,” Eli says, sliding his hat back on and taking AP’s lead from me. “Catch you after?”
“You better! Sarah’s bringin’ her cobbler to the judges’ tent at four.”
With final goodbyes, Eli leads us away toward the far end of the arena. There’s a roped-off section large enough for AP and Ruin to move comfortably, with a clear view of the competition arena, but set back from the crowds and speakers.
“You have your own reserved space?” I ask as Eli unhooks the rope gating the space.
“Yep. Built it myself,” he answers, because of course he did.
He guides AP in and drops her lead, knowing she won’t go anywhere.
Then he helps me secure Ruin into the cross tie area with rubber matting underfoot, showing me how to position him for optimal viewing of the arena without overwhelming him.
The setup is thoughtful, deliberately designed for exactly what we need.
“This is something else,” I say, noting the quality of the materials, the strategic positioning, as he ties AP off too, next to Ruin. “Never seen anything like this.” In ranches, maybe, but not in an arena.
Eli shrugs, that casual modesty that somehow makes everything he does ten times more impressive. “Riverlight sponsors the place. Helped with the construction costs a few years back. ”
I blink. “Riverlight sponsors this place? Why?”
“Community needs it.” He says it like it’s obvious. “Local kids deserve a decent facility. And we needed somewhere for exposure training. Win-win.”
“Wait.” I lift my hands as it clicks into place. Could it be? “You’re telling me you built an entire facility for the town… just so you’d have a place to desensitize horses?”
He looks away at the arena proper, in the center. “We didn’t build it all. Just contributed.”
“What, like 50-50?”
“No,” he says, drawing out the word slightly. Is he embarrassed? Oh, my heart. It’s too cute.
“60-40?” I push on, leaning in to see his cheeks getting ruddier. “Tell me.”
He lets out a big sigh, mumbling, “More like… 80-20.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, no, that’s not contributing. The town contributed.”
“And? Got a problem with that?” For a moment, I sense he’s actually getting defensive, crossing his arms, eyeing me sideways. But why would he?
“Problem? No, I think it’s amazing.”
His arms fall to his sides, lips gaping under wide eyes.
I frown. Did he really think I wouldn’t?
“It’s clever, it’s sustainable. It builds ties with the community, brings jobs.
” I shrug, taking in the place with a keener eye.
A place like this could usher in people from all over, get bigger events going, not just local stuff.
“If you have the resources and it’s helpful, why wouldn’t you do it? ”
When I look back at him, he’s frozen. As if he’s not even here, except his eyes are glued to mine, blinking every so often.
“But it’s crazy,” he eventually says, so quietly.
“It’s a lot of money. For a tiny spot used once every few months, if that.
Big facilities can’t just spend like that. Ranches especially. ”
Is he correcting past business decisions on the fly? The way he speaks… doesn’t even sound like him. Not his voice, not his words.
Did someone tell him that? When he decided to build this place?
Because fuck them.
“That’s because most facilities are built for humans,” I tell him. Remind him. “And Riverlight is built for horses.”
A smile creeps up like sunrise on his face, making all the flowers bloom in my chest. Then he looks down and away, murmuring, “Who even taught you that?”
I snort. “Just some guy at work.”
Eli chuckles. “He sounds incredible.”
My hand runs down Ruin’s neck, softly. “He is incredible.”
My heart booms. Eyes stretch.
Oh no.
No—no—no. Why did I say that?
Did he hear it? Maybe he didn’t.
Just play it cool. Keep petting Ruin’s neck. Up and down. Nobody confessing anything here.
“So, what’s the plan?” Fuck me, why is my voice cracking? I clear my throat. “Just stand here and let him absorb it all?”
“Y-Yeah. For starters.” Eli adjusts the lead rope, first looser, then back to how it was, making sure Ruin has enough slack to move his head freely. “We’ll see how he handles everything. Then maybe walk him ‘round between classes.”
I nod, pulling in a deep breath, my hand never leaving Ruin’s shoulder. His nostrils are flaring, ears flicking, but feet planted. Tense but managing.
Focus on the horse. We’re here for the horse.
Gonna be a long day.