49. Bailey
49
Bailey
Saturday
“ Y ou always stop there,” Ethan said.
We had gotten back from review not long ago, and though Ethan often worked in the shop after, he’d come back to the farm, saying he had the day off. I knew it was a lie. He chose what days he went in, and he chose right now not to. He specifically came over so I could try to ride…again.
“You bring him out, tie him up, brush him and clean his hooves, then put him back. Why?” He sat on a turned-over bucket, watching me.
“It’s just how long I last,” I admitted.
“Why?” he asked again.
Ugh. Because I can feel Ed all over me, all over my horse, all over this barn. It’s like he tainted it. But I didn’t want to say that, didn’t even want to think it, because if I thought it and said it, then it was true, right? And I loved riding. It was a passion that I missed with everything in me.
“Then, don’t do it,” Ethan said.
I stepped back from Titan and raised an eyebrow at him. “Then, I’m right back to square one. Last year, I could barely even touch Titan.”
A muscle ticked in Ethan’s jaw, but that was the indication something was bothering him. “Tell me what to do.” He pulled the bucket over and pointed to it. “You sit and tell me what to do.”
I smiled. “Okay.” I sat down, sure this wouldn’t last long. “In the tack room, there’s a saddle with a cover on it that has my name. The bridle is hanging up next to it.” I waited for him to come back empty-handed, telling me he wasn’t sure where the stuff was, but to my surprise, he walked out with my saddle over one arm and the bridle in his other hand. “Hang the bridle on the hook there.” I pointed. “I’ll hold the saddle. Titan needs the green blanket in the tack room.”
Ethan nodded and went right to work, not questioning anything or complaining. I instructed him through getting Titan tacked up, and Titan was only too happy to be going to work. He kept an eye on Ethan the whole time, calculating, waiting. It was going to be a fun ride if I could manage to get on him.
Watching Ethan work put all thoughts of Ed out of my mind, so when Titan started acting up, not letting Ethan put the bridle on, I took mercy on him and stepped up. I pulled Titan down, took the bridle from Ethan, and slipped it on in one movement. “He’s not exactly being bad, just wants to ride,” I explained.
Ethan nodded. I unclipped Titan, and Ethan walked him out for me. We said nothing as we got the mounting block. The Saturday sun was warm, but I felt a chill as I went up the two steps. I focused on how well Titan lined himself up, such a well-trained horse.
I reached out, my fingers touching the saddle, and then I froze.
“Don’t you forget why you got this far.” Ed spoke through clenched teeth, his breath hot in my ear. “Don’t you ever forget why you are here at all.” I had put hours, days, months into working with Titan, into improving my skills and time, but Ed had trained me. I owed him for that… didn’t I? At what point was my debt officially paid off?
“Please welcome to the arena, right from McCormick farms, the Fearless Titan and his rider, Bailey McCormick,” the announcer called, and for a split second, I didn’t think Ed would let me go. It was as if he was showing me just how much control he had over the one thing of myself I had left. How quickly he could take it away.
“Bailey.” I peered down into Ethan’s dark eyes, and he looked around for a moment before his gaze found mine again. “The way I see it, you can call the play, step in as quarterback, and run the play. Or you can back away and return to the safety of the sidelines.”
“What if I fumble?”
“I’ll be here to pick you up.”
I could feel my lips twitch. “Scoop and score?”
“Yeah, B. Scoop and score. Your call.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it as I slid onto the saddle. I had missed the feeling of leather beneath me, the reins in my hand, the paw Titan gave the ground, shifting his weight while I felt out his movements. “Just a little walk,” I said.
Ethan stepped back as I moved Titan forward. I could feel his muscles bunching and twitching; the need to go faster was palpable. I walked around the ring once, seeing Ethan climb the fence and sit on top. Two walks around the ring, and I finally relented, allowing Titan to go into a controlled trot.
“The first time I saw you ride, it was at the county rodeo show. My father had gotten drunk after the derby and left me at the park. I was sitting in the stands, bored, but when they called you, I couldn’t look away.”
“Why was that?”
He shrugged. “You made it look easy, fun, even.”
Football gave me raw adrenaline. It gave me a physical outlet, and though riding was still a physical outlet, there was also a calming element to it. I started moving Titan through imaginary obstacles, changing his direction, his timing. He was so obedient and willing.
“I still remember how they introduced you,” Ethan said before calling out into the arena, “ Please welcome young Bailey McCormick and her horse, the Fearless Titan, to the ring. Bailey may only be eight years old, but keep your eyes on her, she’s going to be a great up-and-coming rider .”
I laughed at his enthusiasm.
“I don’t see you smile like that often,” I said, walking Titan up to him. Titan was breathing hard, but his body was relaxed, clearly happy with his exercise.
“I don’t see you ride like that often,” he said. “I have to go. Your dad needs a hand in the field. He’s training Chase right now. I just wanted to see if you needed help putting him away before I leave.”
I reached down, patting Titan on the neck. “I think we’ll be fine,” I said with a smile. He nodded, then backed away from the fence. “Thank you, Ethan, for helping me.”
“I’m here for you, B.”
I walked Titan around the ring a couple times to cool off before getting down and walking him to the barn. As I stepped over the threshold, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Titan could sense it, too, because he lifted his head, his ears facing forward, trying to listen for whatever was making me uneasy.
“He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here,” I whispered to myself, taking another step into the barn. Titan pulled back, clearly not liking my energy, or perhaps, he sensed something. Maybe something was wrong. My eyes started to dart around.
A noise at the other end of the barn had me jumping, and Titan side-stepped me, as if I were the crazy one. Ethan walked in, and I frowned. “I thought Dad needed your help.”
“He does. I’ll be there. I just forgot, I brought Titan a treat today. Can he have it?” From his pocket, he pulled out a shiny red apple. I could already hear Titan taking a deep breath, trying to pick up the scent of the apple.
“Sure, I can give it to him in his stall.” It wasn’t good to give him treats while un-tacking; it could lead to bad manners. I reached for the apple, but Ethan pulled it back.
“It’s my treat to give him. I’ll wait.” And he did just that. He didn’t rush me, didn’t seem bothered when I would stop now and then, taking a deep breath while removing the saddle from Titan and checking him over after our ride.
I walked Titan to his stall, where fresh water and food waited, meaning Ethan had already done my chores. Ethan held the apple out to Titan, who was all too pleased to munch on it. He gave a little chuckle, then turned, walking out. “See you later, B.”
There was no way he knew—how could he?—how much that meant to me. He’d derailed a panic attack before it happened. One had been brewing, of that I was certain.
I didn’t know how long the battle would last, but the little things the guys were doing made me hope that, maybe, the end was near.
With chores done early on Saturday, and the guys out most of the night, pulling hay off the fields, my mother and I hung out all evening together. I knew she had been busy lately, but I hadn’t kept track of what she was doing. The property we’d purchased across the way, in the lot behind ours and on the other side of the creek, had a house on it. The owner of the property passed away, and his children wanted nothing to do with it, so my parents bought it from them, as is, which meant all the clutter was included as well.
Mom had been organizing homes for the animals for the last few weeks, however it was more difficult to find homes for all the belongings. We made dinner that was easy to reheat because we knew Dad wouldn’t leave until the field was done, and then we sat together in the living room, binging rom-coms.
I was surprised it was still fairly early when Chase and Dad walked in the door. “Dinner’s in the oven!” Mom called.
Dad went straight for the kitchen, while Chase reached around to the key hooks on the wall and grabbed the truck keys. “Mind if I take the truck?” he asked me. “Just dropping Ethan off.”
“Me too!” I jumped up.
“Hey!” Mom said. “Want me to pause the movie?”
“No, watch without me. We won’t be long.” I followed Chase out to the truck, Ethan holding his hand out as he stood by the driver's door. I laughed. “Did you dive into a mud puddle?” I asked.
Ethan huffed out a breath, glaring at Chase’s grin while taking the keys from him. “I may have gotten a bit stuck,” Chase admitted. “And Eth may have tried pushing while I gave a bit too much gas to the truck…and the other farm hands may have seen the whole thing.”
I rolled my eyes. Oh, man, Ethan would never live this down. I didn’t spend much time with the farm hands my dad employed, but I knew they liked to rile one another up.
I got into the passenger seat and Chase got in the back. Ethan was quiet for the most part, just listening, while Chase talked about what they did today. He figured the whole team should come and haul hay bales instead of working out in the weight room. It was more of a workout. He was lucky it was a cool day; I told him to just wait until he had to do it in the heat and sun of an August day.
It was starting to darken outside, making it easy to see the flashing lights up ahead. “What…” Ethan mumbled. He still made us drop him off at the shop, and at first, I thought the cop cars were parked at the house next to the shop, but I was mistaken.
Ethan pulled the truck up as close as he could and handed me the keys, telling me to go home before getting out and walking up to an officer—his cousin.
“Look,” I said to Chase, pointing to the large glass window of the shop, which was now shattered. “Did someone rob the shop?”
“Maybe we should wait for Eth,” Chase said.
The shop owner came walking out, trailed by another officer. They spoke briefly with Ethan before Ethan held his hands up and turned around. “What the hell?” Chase couldn’t hear me, though, since he was already getting out of the truck. I followed.
“Stay,” Ethan ordered us.
His cousin spotted us and held up his hand. “Wait there, guys. He’s not in trouble. We are just asking questions.”
I stopped and grabbed Chase’s arm, pulling him back, though he didn’t budge very far from his spot. Ethan turned back around once they finished searching his pockets, then started talking to them. I couldn’t hear a thing that was being said, but at the end, the owner put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, apologizing to him.
Ethan had dark eyes—I loved his eyes—but when he turned away, they were near black. His teeth were clenched, his hands balled into fists, and he looked every bit the frightening, fighting thug everyone made him out to be at school.
“Eth.” Chase walked to him, but Ethan pushed away, walking from us and down to the sidewalk, toward his house. “Eth! What happened?” Chase demanded.
“Art, my father, robbed the place,” was all he said.
Chase and I ran up to him.
“Go!” he yelled. “Leave, I don’t have time—”
“Why’d he do it?” Chase interrupted him.
“Because I wasn’t there. He came to the shop, looking for money, and when I wasn’t there, he broke in, stole tools, cash, and whatever else he could take to pay for his next fix.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to release some tension but failing.
“They can’t think you had something to do with it,” I said.
“They don’t, but I lost my job. He couldn’t keep me on, since I’m a liability to him now.” Ethan stopped walking and looked back to where we left the truck, a couple blocks away now. “Go back, go home,” he ordered me. “I have to get the tools back, and I don’t want you there.”
I frowned. “I’m not leaving you.”
Ethan took hold of my wrist. “I can’t have you there,” he said, his voice harsh, his words stinging. He took a deep breath before shifting his hold, making it a bit gentler. “Bailey, I don’t know what is going on in my house, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“But you’re okay with you getting hurt.” I pulled my wrist from his grasp, something I would’ve never done to Ed. But Ethan wouldn’t punish me. “I’m staying with you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Ethan let out a frustrated breath.
“Go back, Bailey,” Chase said, and my glare shifted to him. “Just stay in the truck. I’ll go with Ethan, and then we will come back.” When I didn’t immediately agree, he added, “There’s no way you’re going to that house.”
“The more time we spend waiting for you to leave, the more time my father has to hide shit. Just go.” Ethan pointed to the truck.
I planted my feet and crossed my arms. “I won’t go into the house. But I’m going to drive the truck down and wait outside for you guys.” Ethan opened his mouth, but I held my hand up. “No. I don’t care what you say. Either agree, or I’m coming with.”
“Fine,” he ground through clenched teeth.
I didn’t say anything more. I just headed back to the truck while they walked on to Ethan’s house. I hoped he would cool down more during the rest of the walk. I waited a couple minutes in the truck, watching the scene before me, so I could give Ethan and Chase time to get there. I knew they wouldn’t be happy if I got to the house before them.
I had just pulled up to the other side of the street when they walked up the steps. Chase stared at me briefly, giving me a look that told me to stay in the truck. I did stay put, but I had my phone out just in case, ready to call someone for help. Everything was so eerily quiet that, after a couple of minutes, I got out of the truck and stood on the street, leaning against the driver's door.
From here, I could hear the shouting. I dialed the first number that came to mind, and when my dad picked up, I was out of breath. “Dad, I think Ethan needs help.”
“Bailey, what’s going on?”
I walked across the street, listening to the yelling. I explained to my dad what happened at the shop. “They told me to stay outside, but there’s yelling in the house.”
“Sit back in the truck, Boo, I’m coming.”
There was a smash, like a heavy object being thrown. People started running out of the house, adults I didn’t even recognize. Three men and two women, who didn’t even see me standing on the sidewalk, all too busy scrambling and running in different directions. There was another smash, and I shoved my phone into my pocket, running into the house.
The trailer stank, smoke clouding the air. Ethan grabbed the edge of the couch, flipping it over. “Where is it?” Ethan bellowed.
Chase’s back was turned to me, but I could see he had Art in a choke hold in front of him. “I-I always knew you lot would be delinquents,” his father stammered. “Spare the rod and spoil the child. Ha—” Chase shifted, squeezing Art’s windpipe.
Ethan looked up at me once before turning back to his dad. “You never spared the rod on me. Not once. Where is the cash?”
“Snorted it,” Art wheezed out.
Ethan let out an agonizing scream, spinning and throwing his fist into Art’s stomach, causing a series of coughing fits. “I hope you rot in prison.” Ethan stepped back and nodded to Chase, who dropped his father to the ground.
“They’ll never know it was me. They’ll never find me.” He laughed.
Chase spotted me continuing to stand there and walked over, opening the front door and holding it for me.
“They have you on video, they know it was you. I’ll be sure they know exactly where you are. I know all your spots.” Ethan walked away then, coming toward us.
“You fucking narc,” Art spat before getting to his feet, and then he was running, an iron crowbar in his hand that came from nowhere. He raised it, as if to hit Ethan.
“Stop!” Chase yelled.
I pushed forward, running to stop Ethan from getting bashed in the back of the head. My body automatically got into the tackling position, and I wrapped around Art’s waist in good form, knocking him onto his back. I straddled his chest and started laying my fists into his face, the adrenaline coursing through me. He was high on something, though, because he acted as if my fists were nothing more than a flutter against his face. He pulled my hair, yanking me to the side.
An arm snaked around me, pulling me back just as the crowbar came down, bashing Art’s face.
Art’s arms fell to the floor, his feet twitching, his eyes unmoving, empty, the iron sticking out of his bashed-in skull, blood and brain matter leaking out onto the floor. Ethan let go of the bar. “Fuck,” he said as he started pacing. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Chase pulled me out of the house. “Bailey, stop. Bailey! Stop fighting me.”
“Ethan!” I called out.
“What’s going on?” My dad’s voice had me jumping. I turned around, my eyes welling with tears the moment I saw him.
“Ethan’s in there.” I did my best to hold back the cry. “Daddy, help him.”
“Stay here,” my dad ordered, and this time, I didn’t fight it. My dad walked into the house, the screen door banging shut behind him.
Chase let go of me, running over to the neighbor’s tree as he began violently vomiting. Was that real? Did that really happen?
I paced around, my hands on top of my head, unable to put any coherent thoughts together. Chase walked back to me, his face ghostly white. “That could’ve been Ethan,” he said, breathless. “His brain is spilling out. That would’ve been Ethan.”
Ethan walked out just then, Dad right behind him. “You stay there, and you two say nothing. Hear me?” He pointed to the two of us, standing together, then pulled out his phone.
“Eth, man. Shit,” Chase said as Ethan walked over to us.
“I’m sorry.” I bit my lip.
“Don’t,” Ethan said. “Not right now.” I stepped away from him, lowering my head. I’d just caused his father’s death. He was dead, right?
Dad walked over to us, hanging up the phone. “Police are coming. We got here, and he was like that. There are drugs all over that house. It was a drug deal gone wrong. That’s all we know, do you understand?” He looked pointedly at Chase and me.
“He owed money,” Ethan said. “Everyone knows.”
“You say nothing.” Dad pointed at Ethan. “You’ve been staying with us for the last few weeks. We only came here tonight to pick up more clothes. That’s when you saw the shop. You went home and found him like this and called me.”
Ethan nodded.
“If they decide to question you, you say absolutely nothing and ask for a lawyer. We have one.”
But they didn’t question us. The three of us sat on the curb, waiting, while more officers showed up, some with cameras and numbered markers. My dad stayed, talking to them.
Now and then, I glanced up at Ethan, afraid to say anything to him. The concrete was cold, as was the night air. I shivered slightly, and Chase wrapped his arm around me, eyes glued to the organized chaos before us.
It wasn’t long before a body bag on a stretcher went into the trailer empty and came out full. Ethan didn’t react at all.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him.
“I’m not,” he breathed.
It wasn’t long before the police said we could go home, and they would contact us when they needed us. I went home with Dad, and Ethan and Chase took the truck back. Dad reassured me that our family lawyers would take care of Ethan if anything were to happen; he didn’t believe it would, though.
When we got home, Ethan and Chase both showered, then disappeared into the guest room. After I showered, I found their bedroom door closed, so I went straight to my room, crawling into my bed.
“How many is that for your body count?” Ed asked. He stood by the window, looking out to the garden shed.
“Leave me,” I grumbled. In my head, though, I answered him. Two. Ethan’s dad was number two.
“Three,” he corrected. “Have you already forgotten about the mutt?” As if on cue, the haunted sound of a dog howling in the distance pierced Ed’s now silence.
I cried. Because no matter how far ahead we got, there would always be something to pull us down, pull us back, hold us down. Through the night, in the short blips of sleep I succumbed to, I saw his head get bashed in, over and over again. Only, instead of Ethan doing it, it was me.
That night, I made the choice that it was me. It would be me. I was going to go down for Ed’s injuries or death, whichever happened. I, too, would go down for Ethan’s dad’s death. At least Ethan worked for his life, tried hard, despite all the shit he went through. He didn’t deserve this. I would give my life before I let him spend one day in a cell.