CHAPTER 12
Ten years ago, Victor might have cried when seeing Skyler off. These days it took more than that to make him weep, but it still hurt to give her a strong hug good-bye. She made him promise to stay in touch as often as possible, and she thanked him for hosting her.
“Tell Johnny I appreciate the good time out,” she said. “And I hope you figure out whatever it is between you.”
“Yeah,” Victor replied non-committedly. With a sigh, Skyler gave him another embrace.
“I love you, you know.” She patted his cheek lightly before throwing her driver’s side door open and climbing up into the truck. “Promise me you’ll call more often.”
“I’ll do my best,” Victor replied.
“You better.” She gave him a pointed look before starting the truck’s engine and rolling down the driveway, trailer in tow.
* * *
Victor’s usual farrier had been involved in a car wreck, which meant that he was out of commission for the next three months. Victor had to scramble to find a replacement, so the new farrier showed up early Thursday morning with her supply trailer in tow.
She was a stocky woman with an olive complexion, various tattoos displayed by a sleeveless T-shirt, and a buzzcut.
Victor heard her swear in Spanish when she dropped her clippers, so he decided to greet her with a firm handshake and an hola ?cómo estás?
Her formerly stern expression melted away into a friendly smile.
“Bien. ?Y tú?” she asked.
“Glad that you’re here, since we’re already a week behind after my last farrier had an accident,” Victor replied in Spanish. “I’m Victor. You must be Ramona.”
“That’s me. I’m glad I could pencil you in.
My schedule’s been crazy.” She bent down to pet Piper and Bailey, who swarmed around her legs.
Once the dogs were greeted to their liking, they headed into the barn, where Jade was waiting with their first victim Sprout, the pony gelding that he’d bought at the auction along with Midnight.
Jade had put in most of the training work with this pony, and while he showed promise in being a lesson pony, he was still a little shit about his feet, so they decided to get him over with first while Ramona still had the energy to deal with it.
After Sprout was finished, Victor told Jade she could go back to her training work.
This meant the conversation could continue in Spanish, or what little conversation was possible while Ramona was bent over the hoof of a horse or pounding a horseshoe into shape.
She had a way about her that had Victor wondering, especially considering the buzz cut and the fit of her clothes.
He didn’t want to resort to stereotypes, but she also reminded him a lot of the butch lesbians he’d hung out around back when he lived in Los Angeles for a few years, and she’d been the first person he’d met in a while who he could peg as feasibly queer.
As she worked, he rolled his tongue against his cheek and wondered how he could ask in a way that wasn’t too forward or presumptuous.
He did his best to be as stealth as possible—not because he wasn’t proud of who he was but because he was terrified of being hate crimed.
So he didn’t want to come across as some cishet bigot trying to sniff her out.
Maybe he could out himself first—but then what if she wasn’t gay?
He’d met a few women who looked queer who then later proved to be raging homophobes.
He was so paranoid all the time living in these parts, and he was sure she probably felt the same way.
Then, after she’d just finished shoeing Saturn, she lifted her shirt to rub away some of the sweat on her face, and Victor saw a small tattoo by her left hip that read Dyke Pride, surrounded by flowers.
He almost laughed in relief. God, it had been too long since he’d been around a proper butch.
As much as he never wanted to return to the city life in Los Angeles, he did miss the several lesbians there who had taken him under their wing when he felt excluded by cis gay men.
They taught him a lot about himself and about gender—but also about how to change his own spark plugs.
“So, uh,” Victor began, nervously. “You from around here?”
“Oh yeah. I live on a farm my grandfather pretty much built from scratch,” she replied.
“You have your own horses?”
“I’ve got seven. Most of them are rescues, so only two are rideable. Works for me though. I trail ride occasionally, but I’m too busy to do much else.”
Victor wasn’t sure how to introduce himself as a fellow gay without coming across like a weirdo. There needed to be a better script for this sort of thing. He also had to acknowledge that she was just a woman doing her job. She wasn’t here to become his next best friend or anything.
“So you do horse rescue?” Victor asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Hmm, it’s more of my wife’s thing,” she replied, then paused as if coming to the realization that she maybe shouldn’t have said that. Victor jumped in before she could doubt herself.
“Must be great to do horse rescue with a wife who knows how to shoe and trim horses. Unless you make her pay you?”
Ramona chuckled. “She pays me by doing the dishes.”
Victor nodded. “Makes sense.”
Ramona put the horse’s foot down and straightened with a wince. Then she gave Victor a somewhat long and assessing look. “You married?”
“Ah, no. Though if you know any male farriers who are looking…”
Ramona laughed harder now. “You from here?”
“No, I’m from California. When my aunt died, she willed me this place.”
“It’s a beautiful farm. I can see why you made the move.”
“Yeah, I love the property. Not exactly the best state to live in right now though.”
Ramona sighed, seeming to understand his meaning. “The only way I’ll be moved off my family’s property is by force. You got any guns?”
Victor stared at her wide-eyed a moment. He’d thought she’d say something like it’s not that bad once people get used to it, but apparently her trust in the general public was even lower than his. “Uh, no.”
“You should probably get a few. Not saying you’ll ever need to use them, but I find people take me more seriously when I carry.”
“Not really a gun guy.”
“A rare species of man in these parts.”
“I would rather just people leave me to my horses and stay out of my business.”
“Shouldn’t live in a small town if you want people out of your business.”
“Sadly it’s hard to fit twenty-five horses into a city apartment.”
Ramona shook her head. “I get it. I love living in the middle of nowhere, but the loneliness can get to you. I met my wife online and was somehow able to convince her to move here.”
“The dating prospects are slim to non-existent, that’s for sure.”
“Well, lemme…” Ramona patted herself down before pulling out the phone from the back pocket of her jeans.
“Lemme get your number and I’m going to send you some info on a rodeo in September that a friend of mine is hosting.
It’s gonna be small, and we’re not doing much advertising so that we can avoid the bible thumpers, but we want it to be a safe celebration space for the community. You should come, if you’re interested.”
“Sure, if I can make it.” Victor then gave her his number, and she tapped it into her phone.
“I’ll be there with my wife. If you have any questions, just give my friend a call… I’ll put his number in my text. He’s run it for about ten years now, and it’s always a great time.”
“Thank you.”
Ramona reached out and roughly patted him on the arm. “It’s always nice to meet another one of us, huh?”
Victor let out a long breath and smiled. “Yeah. It sure is.”
* * *
Usually when Johnny dropped Taylor off, she was chomping at the bit to get into a saddle. Yet after Johnny drove away and Victor found Taylor in the barn, she was instead huddled in a stall with Midnight, her arms wrapped around Midnight’s midsection, her face pressed into her stomach.
“Hey, kiddo,” Victor said gently. “Something wrong?”
Taylor shook her head morosely, running a hand along Midnight’s sleek black coat. Considering what a smiley kid she was, Victor already sensed something was up.
“Do you want to ride first or muck stalls?” Victor asked.
“Can I muck stalls?” Taylor asked, voice hushed.
“Yeah, sure.”
Taylor nodded, and Victor left it at that, deciding to give Taylor some time with Midnight to consider whatever was ailing her.
He spent the next thirty minutes with Cyclone in the indoor ring, teaching him to disengage his hindquarters from the ground.
Victor kept the lesson short, then put Cyclone back into his paddock.
When he returned to the barn, Taylor was just returning from emptying the wheelbarrow into the manure spreader outside.
“How’s it going so far?” Victor asked.
“Okay,” Taylor replied.
“You ready to ride then?”
“Um…” Taylor ducked her face, biting her lip. “I—I don’t think I can ride today.”
“Why not? You feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” She squeezed her hands around the end of the pitchfork perched in the wheelbarrow. “I just don’t… I don’t want to ride.”
Words Victor had never thought she’d utter. The girl practically had to be dragged kicking and screaming out of the saddle. “Why not?”
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes.
Victor glanced down the corridor, where a boarder and Jade were currently having a conversation and Hannah was filling water buckets. He took the pitchfork from Taylor’s hands and leaned it against a stall.
“Come to my office. Maybe we can chat a little there.”
Taylor followed Victor to his office. He left the door open so as not to seem inappropriate, then pointed Taylor to the couch.
“Can I stand instead?” Taylor said.
“If you want.” He sank down onto his desk chair, straddling the back of it and crossing his arms over the backrest. “Wanna tell me what’s up? Don’t say nothing, because I know that’s not true.”
Taylor squeezed her hands together, face pink. She refused to meet Victor’s eyes, which struck Victor as odd, considering how bold she usually was.
“Taylor? Come on, hon. Something is clearly wrong.”
“You can’t tell Uncle Johnny,” she whispered, eyes darting toward the open door. “He’ll get mad.”
“What is it?”
Suddenly tears rose up in Taylor’s eyes, and she started crying. Victor stood up, and before he could even stretch out a hand, her arms were around his waist like tentacles, her face buried deep in his shirt. Christ. What had happened?
“I can’t ride!” she blurted through her sobs. “It’d hurt too much.”
Victor felt himself tense, and he placed a hand on Taylor’s shoulder to pull her back slightly. “What hurts?”
She sniffed and wiped at her nose with an arm until Victor grabbed a tissue from his desk and offered her that instead.
“I said some mean things to Mike,” she muttered miserably. “He got real mad and gave me a whooping.” She paused, flushing even redder before whispering, “On my butt.”
“Oh, honey.” Victor yanked Taylor back into a hug, and she started crying again. “When did this happen, hmm?”
“This—this morning,” she stuttered. “It still hurts.”
“Did he do it with his hand, or—”
“His belt.”
Victor sucked in a slow breath, trying to work the mess of emotions this admission raised.
Most of it was rage born out of protectiveness.
She wasn’t his kid, but Taylor was his student, and the only bruises his students got were the ones the horses put there.
He was the last person to pick a fight, but for Taylor he might be willing.
“Was your mom home when this happened?” Victor asked.
“Yeah, but—but she was outside.” Taylor rubbed at her eyes.
“She yelled at him but she was mad at me, too. She said I—she said I—” Taylor paused a moment to catch her breath around a sob.
“She said I need to watch my mouth.” She turned her face up toward Victor, eyes red and puffy.
“Can I just stay here today? I don’t wanna go home. ”
Victor was not a teacher or a therapist, so he wasn’t legally bound to report anything to authorities, but he couldn’t imagine not reporting this to anyone.
At the same time, he knew that by doing so he’d be inserting himself into a family situation he was not prepared to deal with.
This barn was clearly her refuge and the one place she felt safe enough to admit such a thing, and if he went to the cops, there’d be no way in hell her mother would ever bring her back.
What if she was taken away from her mother and thrown into foster care?
Victor had never gone through it, but he knew some people who had, and their stories of abuse stayed with him.
He felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, and he hadn’t a clue what he should do.
“Listen.” Victor bent down to meet her gaze. “Why don’t you take out Midnight and just walk her around a bit, okay? Maybe take her to the round pen and do some of that desensitization practice I taught you. That sound good?”
Taylor nodded, rubbing her face on her arm to clear it of tears.
Victor gave the back of her neck a squeeze before she stepped out of his office.
Once she was gone, he shut the door and did the thing she’d asked him not to: he called Johnny.
He seemed like the only person who had Taylor’s best interest in mind and an understanding of the family that Victor did not.
Thankfully he picked up after the third ring.
“Johnny, hey. This is Victor.”
“I know, hom-bray. I see your name on my phone.”
Victor let the hom-bray go for now. “We need to talk.”