7. Candice
7
CANDICE
The morning after Nathan and I make our deal, I take Maggie out for a trail ride. It’s my favorite type of riding to do with her, and she loves it just as much as I do. There’s nothing but me, Maggie, and the Montana mountains for company, and as we canter across the fields and shrubbery, I finally feel like I can breathe again.
I slow Maggie to a walk, and finally let myself think about what working with Nathan is actually going to mean. Out here alone in the wild, I can be honest with myself in a way that I can’t be around most people.
Working with Nathan is obviously going to involve seeing him every day. That, I think I can manage. I was going to have to see him every day anyway and I had resigned myself to that fact. But there’s a very specific reason I don’t want to help Nathan with training.
“He’s been a dick to me since we met, Mags,” I say out loud. Maggie just keeps on walking.
The thing is, there was a time when I was actually excited to meet Nathan. Beau had told me a lot about him, and it seemed like he was as obsessed with horses as I was, which is rare to find in a man. About four years ago, right when Nathan was starting to make a name for himself, Beau and I met up with him in Bozeman for a drink. Newly twenty-one, I was super excited and spent a ton of time getting ready and planning out what I was going to say to him.
I wasn’t interested in him like that—I just wanted to be friends with him. Reining is a sport that I’ve always enjoyed watching, and some of the best riders are reiners. To do it well, there needs to be a monumental amount of care and trust between rider and horse. From what Beau told me, it seemed like Nathan was that type of man.
Beau introduced us and it went downhill from there. I remember the exact way that Nathan looked at me when Beau said, “And this is my little sister, Candice.” His eyes slid right over me, like I wasn’t even there. Like he heard, “little” and “sister,” and decided I had no value to him whatsoever. I’m positive Beau told him that I was a horse trainer, but when I mentioned it, all he said was, “That’s cool.”
And then he launched into a monologue about his most recent win.
When he was done, I tried asking him what type of techniques he’d been using to train Ballantine lately, and he mumbled something incoherent before downing his beer, ordering a shot of whiskey, and going off to flirt with a group of women nearby. He dragged Beau along with him, and I sat by myself at the bar, with nothing but my empty margarita glass and the pitiful looks from the bartender to keep me company. As we were leaving, Nathan made a dickish comment about how I’d spent the night all alone hiding at the bar. So I told him where, exactly, he could shove it. And I called him a few choice names. He called me a hissing viper in response.
I don’t think he meant to humiliate me, but he did. I’d built him up in my head and had built up the courage to talk to him that night. And then he was nothing like I’d imagined. Back then, I dreamed of working with reining and cutting horses, of teaching Western riders and ranchers how to move away from the mentality of forcing a horse to obey, and towards a more holistic practice. I thought Nathan could be my way into that world. Instead, he made me feel rejected and awkward.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter, because a year and a half later, Grammy got sick and I took over the operation of the rescue when she passed away a few months later. When Gramps followed her out of sheer grief, it was Beau and me against the world. I had no time to dream of training reining and cutting horses or do anything else but keep our business afloat.
But now, Nathan wants me to teach him to train rescues and has somehow convinced me it’s a good idea. I guess I can swallow the memory of my humiliation if it means getting to put him through hell.
That thought brings a smile to my face. I turn Maggie around, and we make our way back to Star Mountain.
I’m standing in a paddock with Nathan and Brown Sugar, and he’s looking at me with a pissed off expression on his stupidly handsome face.
“You want me to do what ?” he asks, sounding incredulous.
“I want you to sit in this paddock and talk to Brown Sugar about your hopes and dreams until she comes over to you willingly,” I repeat slowly, while leveling him with a flat stare.
I point at Brown Sugar, who is romping around, looking cute as a button with a plaid rug on her back. The temperature dropped last night, and Beau wanted her in a rug since her coat is fairly short. She seems to like being out most of the day, clearly enjoying the freedom to play. I can’t wait to get her introduced to the rest of the horses.
“The sitting in the paddock part I get, but the talking, not so much.” Nathan is staring down at me intently, and a lock of hair keeps falling into his face, unconfined by the Stetson on his head.
“I just want her to get used to you,” I say. “It doesn’t have to be hopes and dreams but I find that always works best.”
“You can’t be serious, Candice.”
“Well, find out for yourself. And when you’re done, start cleaning out her paddock. It’s a bit muddy in here, and there’s been some manure build up. Wheelbarrows are in the shed.”
“You don’t have a tractor?”
Nathan says this like he’s never contemplated how people lived before the advent of machines.
“No, Nathan, we do not. Remember the financial issues I was telling you about?”
“Fine, whatever. It’s just been a while since I’ve cleaned a paddock with nothing but a wheelbarrow.”
“Well,” I say, “dig deep and remember what it was like on daddy’s ranch all those years ago.”
“Don’t mention my father. Or my ranch,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.
I try not to stare at the way the muscles ripple in his arms as he does this, or the tick in his jaw that I just put there. He looks even more pissed off, and not in the fun type of way. If I poke the bear anymore he’s going to bite me, I’m pretty sure.
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t really care how you find it in yourself to clean Brown Sugar’s paddock, I just need you to do it.”
Nathan just glares at me.
“That won’t leave me much time to help Tomás and to give you social media lessons,” he says finally. “Plus, I need to take Bally out. I know it’s not work but I haven’t ridden him for days and…” He trails off, and I feel myself soften towards him for just a moment.
“Take Ballantine out. Come over to the house for dinner later and we can work on social media then.”
“You’re actually inviting me to dinner?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“It’s not like I’ll be cooking. Beau will be. And I just thought he’d want you there since you haven’t gotten to see him much yet.” I don’t add that some small part of me wants him there, too. If only to have someone to fight with. Nathan and I might really hate each other, but sometimes it’s fun to hate. No one rises to the challenges or takes the bait quite like he does.
“I’ll be there,” he says. “Make sure you do your makeup and put on a nice dress for me.”
And that small part of me shrivels up and dies.
“Fuck off,” I say.
I head off in the direction of the stables, and hear Nathan break into a laugh behind me. I have to fight the urge to turn back around and look at him. Because that’s the laugh of America’s favorite cowboy—big, boisterous, and accompanied by a thousand watt smile capable of bringing the average woman to her knees.
I know better than to go up against it.