38. Colt
Wicked Game - Chris Isaak
Her first step into our private stables takes us longer than a first step ought to.
“It’s all right,” I assure her. “You’re allowed inside.”
Her harrumph is reassuringly impatient. “Do you know how many times I’ve sneaked inside the Korhonen stables?”
“I can hazard a guess if you give me some time to work it out?—”
“It’s weird being allowed to enter. It’s like the devil passing through church gates.”
“That’s extreme, isn’t it?”
“Not if you’d asked our great-grandaddies.”
She’s not wrong…
The tension between our families lessened with the passing of that generation. Ranching in the modern world became hard enough without neighbors cattle rustling and sabotaging one another for shits and giggles.
In one hand, I have a bag of snacks she could need after exercising, so with my free one, I slide it beside hers and tangle our fingers. “Come on. You’re invited in.”
As I cross the threshold, I gently urge her alongside me.
The scents of the stables immediately welcome me, but it’s Callan’s stock horse, Leviathan, butting my shoulder that makes me smile.
Turning to her, I run my hand along her nose. There’s a tug on my arm, from Zee this time, and suddenly, she’s standing beside me.
“Leviathan,” she exclaims.
“How did you know?”
“Callan described her. Chestnut, but she looks like she’s been dipped in paint from the forelegs on.”
I scratch behind Levi’s ears. “That’s not a bad description. Cole says she’s like salt water meeting fresh.”
“She’s beautiful.” Her fingers hover as if she’s afraid to bridge the gap while her other hand trembles in mine.
But Levi’s an old pro—she’s had to be with Callan as an owner.
The kid can ride like he was born in the saddle, but on her back is the only time he’s ever rowdy. Little heathen. I was always tempted to put him in the junior rodeo but I know he hates crowds.
Levi’s muzzle seeks out Zee’s hand, demanding her due—adoration.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
A frown puckers my brow as realization strikes. “Wait a minute. You haven’t ridden since the fire, have you?”
Her mouth trembles. “I couldn’t. Not after… Then Jez passed when I was seventeen and I never wanted to…”
“I’m so goddamn sorry for not trusting you, Zee.” It’s the only thing I can think to say and it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
All these years, she’s borne the blame and she couldn’t bring herself to fucking ride.
The urge to strangle my father has never been as strong as it is right now. But it’s no worse than what I want to do to myself.
My lack of faith?—
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
Levi knows that’s bullshit too because she pushes Zee with her head. A happy chuckle drifts from her, one that urges a smile out of me.
“Didn’t your grand-mère make you?”
“You know she didn’t rely on me for help around the ranch. Said I was a liability.”
“I never understood that.”
Her fingers drift over Levi’s muzzle. “I’ve never seen Callan ride her.” Change of subject—right.
“He gets up early and takes her out onto the property.”
She quirks a brow. “How early?”
“Four AM.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s the only thing he does that’s normal on the ranch,” I say dryly. “It started after Mum left. He didn’t like to be in the house without me there so he’d follow me around. He was so cute back then.”
“He had separation anxiety.”
“Something like that.”
She peeps a look at me, for the first time taking her eyes off Levi. “It must have been hard. You were only young yourself. I was selfish back then. I didn’t realize how much pressure there was on you, didn’t realize how much pressure I added onto you?—”
“You didn’t add any pressure.”
“I did. I was in the stables when I shouldn’t have been. And I was needy.” Her nose crinkles. “We spent a lot of time together when you probably had other stuff to do.”
“I never thought of it that way. I liked your company. It was a sea of normalcy in a world of chaos,” I tell her, my tone calm. “That’s really how you earned your nickname. You were the only person who ever knew what was going on with me. I couldn’t tell my brothers. They depended on me too much. I had to be the strong one. I didn’t need to be that with you. I needed to be me.”
“Honestly?”
Our gazes clash. “100%.”
Her lips curve. It’s infinitesimal, but I notice it. “Why?”
“Loki, probably. I came to him to escape and you saw me with him so you picked up on stuff by association.
“I didn’t know you could share a heart horse until I saw you with him. Do you want to know what one of my biggest regrets has always been?”
“Aside from the obvious?” she rasps.
“Uh-huh. It’s that I didn’t get to see you ride him. You never did. I think that’s a damn shame.”
“I didn’t need to. I enjoyed being with him.”
“I know. But I’d still have liked to see you ride him.” I clear my throat. “Speaking of, do you want to meet your mount?”
She gives Levi a final rub to her ears before she takes a step back and glances around. “I don’t know why I’m surprised the stables look this way.”
There’s barely any wood here. It’s mostly concrete with steel joists.
“Callan insisted.”
“I bet all the tack is labeled, right?”
“Yeah.” I grin. “Most of the food and supplements are too. We have a multitude of printouts for every horse, every day, every week. He enjoys it though.
“God only knows what he’ll be like when we build a horse barn for the breeding program.”
She tugs on my hand. “You’re restarting it?”
“I was always going to but I wanted to wait until Clyde died,” I admit. “Now, I don’t need to.”
“Why?”
“Why wait?” My jaw works. “I never liked him around the horses.”
“He was… cruel?”
“He was. I swear the first time I hit him was built-up rage from the last time I saw him on Jude—his Irish X. I wanted to kill him. I settled on beating the shit out of him.”
“No one ever dared say anything to the SPCA, I’m guessing.”
“No. You know what he’s like. Had everyone under his bootheel. Plus, he had the RCMP officers so far up his ass, they were his resident butt plugs. It was a relief when the old inspector retired and Burbanks got shipped in from Saskatoon.”
“It’s good news about the marshal office, isn’t it?”
“You overheard that?”
“Cody told me.”
“Yeah, it’s good news.” I gently guide her down the pristine aisle. “Out with the old, in with the new. And Cody runs a tight ship so there’ll be less corruption around the county too. Exactly what we need.”
“Agreed. How much of the stables is wood?”
“As little as possible. Everything’s concrete or metal. It’s as fireproofed as we can make it.”
She exhales. “Good.”
“Did Cody ask you about the fire?”
“You know him well.”
“Of course I do. Did he?”
Zee tugs on her necklace and rubs her thumb over the medallion. “Yes.”
He must have believed her or he wouldn’t have asked her to make a sandwich.
“He’s always been a good judge of character. Did he ask who…”
“No. I gather he assumes it was faulty wiring like the reports said but he wanted to check.”
“Too protective for his own good.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I bring her to a standstill beside Jasmine’s stall, watching the horse carefully—she’s known to be bitchy with strangers.
“Hey, beautiful girl,” Zee breathes, the adoration in her tone exactly what Jas needs to hear.
It’s also what I needed to hear.
Memories flicker, blurring the past and the present.
How many times I heard her talk to him…
God, I miss Loki.
“God, I miss him,” she rasps.
“Me too.”
“Thank you.” Tears collect in her eyes. “For trusting me with her.”
I just swipe at one as it trickles down her cheek.
Jas neighs, nudging Zee’s shoulder in a silent demand for attention. I dip into the bag I brought with me and transfer a carrot over to her.
She takes it with a smile and offers it to Jas, who whickers before accepting the donation.
As she’s chomping, Zee continues stroking her, gentling Jas to her scent, her presence.
“Jas is strongheaded,” I warn. “Likes to do her own thing, but she’s a solid ride. Fast. We can use Frank today if you want to take it easy seeing as it’s your first ride in a while.”
“No. It’s fine. Like you say, easier than riding a bike.”
I smirk at Jas who nudges my shoulder, not content with one human’s attention today. “Might have exaggerated.”
“You? Never.” Amusement leaches into the words. “Where’s the tack room?”
Twenty minutes later, I watch as she croons and murmurs to Jas as she gently stretches her hind and forelegs, encouraging her to do the same with her neck as she holds a carrot out of reach to each side. Jas might not be happy about being ‘teased,’ but I am—Zee remembers more than she lets on. I still have to prompt some ranch hands to do this and it always pisses me off.
Takes less than five minutes to stretch a horse out but they begrudge it. Assholes.
When Jas’s limbered up to Zee’s satisfaction, she saddles her and attaches a bag that I stuff with the snacks I brought along. I still keep an eye on Zee, mostly to make sure she goes through all the safety checks, but she does.
After being raised with horses your whole life, when you love them, you don’t forget the monotonous routine that’s the precursor to the fun stuff. I cut Callan a lot of slack over the years, but never with the horses. Many life lessons are instilled from caring for these noble beasts.
Once Jas’s ready, I leave them to continue their acquaintance while I greet Fen, who welcomes me with an impatient neigh.
I rub my knuckles along the bridge of his nose and chide, “As if I’d forget you, bud.” I pass him a carrot which he devours as I prepare him for the ride.
When I’m done, I guide him out of his stall and then head for Jas’s.
Finding Zee with her face pressed against the mare’s, forehead to forehead, has something inside me tightening.
It reminds me of the past but also tells me that, for however long Zee’s around, Jas’ll be her ride.
Neither prospect saddens me.
“Zee?” I prompt.
She hums as she grabs the reins. Gently tugging on them, she leads Jas out of the stall and joins me in the aisle.
That’s when she slips her foot into the stirrup and kicks her leg up and over.
“The joys of being under six feet,” I tease, knowing that with Fen’s height—nineteen hands—and my own, there’s no way I’m getting out of the stables elegantly if I mount him inside.
“There have to be some perks,” she agrees, her hips rocking from side to side as she finds her seat.
I don’t move from my spot, not wanting to rush her.
It might have been a decade since she was on horseback but her posture’s still there—she’ll ache like hell tomorrow though.
“Did you check your monitor?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
My brows lift. Well.
She peeps at me, her cheeks flushed. Clearly, that did something for her too.
Both of us ignore the buzz that lit between us and she walks Jas forward, hands relaxed at the reins.
I follow her outside, watching the sway of her slim hips. There, I bound onto Fen’s back, and together, we trot onto the small, graveled path that’ll lead to one of the hundreds of gates on the property.
Neither of us says a word.
I keep an eye on her, making sure she’s okay, maintaining a slow pace that’d have Fen chomping at the bit if we used one, but Jas keeps him in line for me—Fen has the hots for her and tends to let her have her head.
I know how he goddamn feels.
Zee’s a balanced rider. Quiet and gentle with the bit and reins, constantly leaning over Jas’s neck to praise her and smooth a hand over her mane. It doesn’t take long for Jas to get used to Zee’s much lighter weight, either. Or the saddle.
I’ve never been light and I stopped using a saddle with Jas years ago, but she doesn’t appear to be affected by the difference.
When we make it onto the open prairie, she drops the reins. Jas stops immediately but with a soft click of the tongue and a gentle nudge of Zee”s knee, she continues onward while her rider raises her arms and opens them to the world.
It’s like a stretch and a homecoming all at the same time.
I stay silent, but I watch her. More than I do the path ahead. I trust Fen to guide me safely, for one. Mostly though, she’s more interesting than anything Pigeon Creek, hell, Canada has to offer.
The sun glints off her dirty blonde hair, making her pale peach skin gleam gold. When she turns to look at me, her mossy green eyes glitter in the light beneath the hat I plopped on her head before we left the house.
She’s not Arwen—she’s more. Everything.
I stare at her and the years blur again.
I rarely got to see her on Jez because she’d sneak in and sneak out of the stables, using a worn path between our properties to ride onto the Seven Cs.
But here she is.
My past.
My present.
My future.
Fen neighs his displeasure when my knees dig into his sides, and though I automatically correct my seat, it’s like something life-changing occurred.
Something that has me reeling.
There’s always been this blank space in my life.
And it’s shaped like her.
“Did Callan uncover how Fen got loose?”
“No. But we’re changing where we put him out to pasture.”
My answer was unintentionally brisk because my mind isn’t on the ranch or that hit-and-run or anything other than?—
“What are you thinking?”
I’m jerked back to myself with the question. It’s curious, not concerned.
So I look at her and I admit, “That there are no words to describe how much I missed you.”