9. Jacinthe
Jacinthe
T he sky has faded from tulip pink to buttery yellow as the sunrise slips into morning. I stand waving goodbye with one hand and using the other to cover up a yawn while the tourists pile into their cars.
“ Merci , everyone!” I call out. “Hope you had fun!”
My throat is screaming for coffee, and my sleep-deprived body is demanding to know why I ever thought offering a ‘Sunrise Special’ to Balsam Inn guests who book on for a trail ride at La Grange Rouge was a good idea.
I’m used to getting up at the crack of dawn to do my morning barn chores, but I’ve never had to handle customer service this early in the morning.
I still force the corners of my mouth up while the guests pull out of the lot, since ‘grumpy and suffering from caffeine withdrawal’ doesn’t make for good reviews on Trip Advisor.
I can’t help thinking back to that night at Mack’s Bistro, when Tess called my smile ‘haunting.’ I chuckle at the memory even as a zing of nerves shoots up my spine. That was over a week ago. Tess signed the lease the next day, and now here we are: October first.
Moving day.
I stand there waving until the last car has peeled out onto the highway. It was a pretty full booking for an October ride: a couple and a family of four. If it weren’t for the Balsam Inn promotion, I doubt I would have had anyone to take out on the trails today.
I turn to face the barn and try to scrounge up even a flicker of hope that things are turning around, but all I can see are the thousand tasks that still need doing, along with all the money I don’t have to do them with.
There’s a cracked window that needs replacing.
I have to order some new insulation for our arena so I’ll be able to exercise the horses without freezing to death this winter.
There’s also the mysterious rattling noise in my truck’s engine that I’ve been ignoring for months.
Six customers aren’t going to change any of that.
I drag my hands through my hair and sigh. Everything else will have to wait. Right now, I’ve got to hurry up and get the horses untacked so I’ll be ready up at the house when Tess and Shel arrive.
The horses are standing in a line along the hitching post, their heads drooping like they’re sleepy too. The October morning is chilly enough that mist clouds in the air in front of their noses, the condensation sparkling in the pale morning light.
“Good job today, my dudes,” I say, pausing to salute them. “Breakfast is waiting to be served.”
By me. I also need to finish that before Tess gets here.
I get to work untacking, starting with my mount for the day: Pierrot, a mischievous piebald pony I reserve for more experienced riders, since he’s known for trotting away in search of off-road snacks if he doesn’t have a firm hand to reel him in.
His belly puffs out with relief when I unbuckle his girth.
I free him of his saddle and slip off his bridle, leaving him hooked up by his halter to the post. I give him a quick brush down and then move onto the next horse in line, working through the same series of movements on auto-pilot, just like I have thousands of times before.
When I get to third horse in line, I curse under my breath.
“Sam, what did you do?”
The bay gelding is covered in burs he must have brushed up against somewhere along the trail.
The spikey balls are dotted all along one of his haunches.
I swear again and get to work pulling them out.
His thick coat keeps him from being bothered, but the spikes are pricking my fingers enough that I have to give up and hunt around for some gloves in the barn.
“I do not have time for this,” I mutter as I toss burr after burr to the ground.
Tess will be here any minute. I was hoping to do a final sweep of the property before she arrived, just to make sure nothing has gone wrong since I checked last night.
Maybe Joaquin broke in and pooped on all the furniture. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I breathe hard through my nose as I try not to think about all the things that could go wrong today.
Tess may have signed a lease, but I’m sure there’s still some way she could get out of it.
She’s only ever seen the house a couple times.
She might realize she doesn’t want to live in a place with random crap piled on the porch and a lawn that needs to be cut and a driveway that still needs last summer’s weeds pulled.
There’s so much I wanted to get done before today.
The burr removal ends up taking so much concentration I don’t realize a truck has pulled up at the house until I hear a door slam.
I step away from the horses and squint at the driveway, a shock of nerves shooting through me when I spot Tess’s truck hooked up to the trailer she’s borrowing from one of my uncles.
“ Calice ,” I swear.
I still have two more horses left.
I watch as Shel comes running around the side of the truck, the same bunny-eared hoodie she wore last time she was here bouncing against her back. Tess ruffles Shel’s pink-streaked hair and then shields her eyes with one hand while she scans the yard.
I can tell exactly when Tess spots me. She freezes for a split-second, and then her face splits into a grin I can see even from all the way over here.
There’s nothing haunting about her smile. She doesn’t look creepy or strained; she looks like the moment the sun crested over the mountains out on the trail today, streaks of gold spreading like glowing filaments in the pre-dawn pink.
Radiant.
She looks radiant, standing there in some faded blue jeans and a clingy, army green long-sleeve tee while I’m still out here covered in sweat, dirt, and general horse stink.
I rock on the balls of my feet, hoping Maman will burst out the front door and buy me some time, but she must not have heard the truck either.
Instead, Tess comes loping down to the barnyard, hands in her pockets and Shel skipping along at her heels.
I duck behind one of the horses to smooth my hair down and straighten my shirt before stepping around to the front of the hitching post.
“Sorry about this,” I say when the two of them reach me. “I did a sunrise trail ride for some guests from the inn. I thought I’d be done by now, but Sam had to go and rub up against some burrs.”
Shel scoots past her mom to get closer to the horses.
I watch her approach with the gentle but confident motions of a seasoned horse handler.
Pierrot sticks his nose out to sniff at her, and I grin with admiration when I see Shel blow a soft breath against his nose.
His ears perk up, and he returns the greeting, exhaling a horsey hello.
“Look at you, Miss Horse Whisperer,” I say, giving Shel a nod of approval. “Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t it a school day? You playing hooky or something?”
She shakes her head. “Mom said I could take the day off to help with the move.”
“Which means working ,” Tess chimes in with a mocking stern tone. “Not just playing with the animals all day.”
I’ve only seen Tess a couple times since she signed the lease, mostly just to help her set up the trailer. Looking at her now, it really hits me: this woman is going to live in my house.
My heart jumps into my throat, hammering like I’ve just shot a pot of coffee straight into my veins even though I’ve yet to have my first cup of the day.
“Let me get this finished,” I say, ducking back under the hitching post so I can avoid making eye contact with Tess. “I just need a couple minutes, and then I’ll come help you get started.”
“Let me help you,” Tess says. “You’re just untacking?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, but you don’t have to?—”
She swings herself under the rail and pops up beside Nana, one of the two horses left. I hear the clicking of buckles and then the thump of her swinging the girth up over the saddle.
“It’ll go faster with both of us,” Tess announces. “Do you really untack them all yourself every day?”
I doubt I could stop her now, so I give up and get back to work.
“Mostly, yeah,” I tell her, “but I’m used to it. Seven horses isn’t so bad on your own. We have bigger groups in the summer.”
“You don’t have stable hands or anything?”
I shake my head and then remember we’re separated by a wall of horse.
“Uh, no,” I tell her. “My cousin used to help out on really busy days when he lived here, and of course Maman helps as much as her health lets her. It used to be more of a family business when I was younger, but then my uncles all started having kids of their own, and people got busy, and my dad?—”
My dad fucked off after cheating on my mom for years and left her with an entire farm to run and a whole ass kid to raise on her own.
“Yeah?” Tess prompts. Her voice is lower now, gentle, like I’m a testy horse with my tail swishing in warning.
I don’t know why the hell I mentioned my dad. I don’t talk about that connard .
I don’t need to. We don’t need him. I’ve made sure of that.
“Well, he wasn’t around anymore,” I say, my jaw tight as I reach for a rubber comb and start rubbing it in circles over the last horse’s coat. “But we don’t really need stable hands. It’s not that big of a farm. We’ve got, like, half the number of horses we had when I was a kid.”
It’s been close to fifteen years, but I still seethe at the memory of the day my uncles loaded up half our herd onto a trailer and drove them out to another trail riding place almost five hours away.
We couldn’t keep the barn full anymore. It just wasn’t possible without my dad. We were lucky to find a buyer who’d give the horses a good home. I knew that. I also knew it was the last time I’d see any of them, but I couldn’t make myself go down to the yard.
I just sat on the porch with my arms wrapped around my knees, glaring at the red roof of the barn.
That was the day I promised myself I’d never give anyone the power to take so much away from me. That was the day I decided never to rely on anyone as much as we relied on my dad.
“Still seems like a lot of work,” Tess murmurs.