21. Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Cassidy
“We are absolutely not doing this today!”
I grunt, pulling the lead rope tighter. Wes started working with the colts last week, and if it weren’t for the daily lunch dates, random forehead kisses, and exactly three nights in the past two weeks that I’ve slept at my own house, I’d start to think he was using orgasms so I wouldn’t curse him out for making me work with such headstrong animals.
“Cassidy, stop pulling on that lead rope.” Wes’s gentle voice seems completely at odds with the amount of urgency and stress going on in my body right now.
My muscles ache, and the horse I once called my favorite of all the yearlings has planted himself firmly on my shit list. I fight him, somewhat embarrassed by how I can’t figure this one out. I’m good with horses.
At least I thought I was.
I ease up, and he swings his head a bit higher, forcing me to back up. Luckily, he doesn’t make a move to rise up on his hind legs. I guess I haven’t pissed him off enough, yet. “Are you sure he’s not a donkey?” I ask.
Wes chuckles, pushing off the stall wall. “Positive,” he murmurs, moving to stand right behind me, his presence easing some of my stress. “You have to walk with him.”
“I am!” Unfortunately, I sound like a whining pre-teen. “I’m sorry. I’m an adult. That is what I thought I was doing, but it’s a little difficult when one party involved won’t move a muscle.”
Wes pats the colt’s neck before placing his hand over mine on the lead rope.
“This one has a good temperament,” he says.
“But he’s a teen right now, and if you get into a battle of wills, the thousand-pound animal will win no matter what you do.
” His fingers flex around mine, sure and ready.
“Walk with him, encourage him on, keep a firm grip, but don’t pull unless he needs correcting.
You want to reward this horse for doing the right thing so he gets the hang of it. ”
I take a deep breath. Wes turns his ballcap backward and plants a kiss on my cheek before stepping out into the aisle of the barn. “Go on,” he encourages. “Believe he’s going to do it, and he will. And Cass?”
“Yeah?” I sound somewhat defeated, but Wes only smiles.
“You’re doing a great job. Your instincts are good; there’s just a lot of nuance to these young ones. I wouldn’t give you the same advice for Otis. That colt is a whole different ballgame.”
With another deep breath, I encourage the horse forward, using more of a gentle press and release when he gets stuck. Eventually, he lowers his head in a relaxed position and follows me out.
I know he’s the easiest to work with, and Wes is using him to teach me. I should feel humiliated by that, but I don’t—not this time.
I’m struggling to decide how much force is too much force—afraid that if I’m too gentle, I’ll be bulldozed and create bad habits. But if I’m too harsh, it’ll result in the same thing. Bad habits all around.
The colt perks his head up when we exit the barn, bright light from the sun beating down on us. His ears prick forward, and he starts quickening his pace. I follow along, wondering what it is he sees. I can feel the tension in his body.
“Keep his focus,” Wes reminds me. “One sharp yank on the lead. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to show you’re serious. He needs to mind you no matter what he sees out there.”
I follow his directions all the way out into the grass, through the gate to the paddock, and when I unclip the lead rope from the colt’s halter.
I close the gate and turn to face Wes.
“Atta girl.” His grin is wide and warm—the kind of smile I get to see daily, now.
Sweat beads on the back of my neck until it rolls down my spine, dipping beneath my tank top. It will no doubt add to the dirt and sweat already covering my clothes. I’m not sure how Wes can still look at me like that in this condition.
He, however, looks better all dirty and sweaty, panting as he hauls grain bags into the feed room. It’s a real treat to watch him. I am disappointed we don’t get grain deliveries daily.
As if privy to my thoughts, his eyes darken. “What are you thinking about, Miss Summers?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Ask me after hours,” I tease. “I don’t want to be fired for inappropriate talk on the job.”
Wes scoffs just as I hear muffled steps by the barn. When Gus rounds the corner, I instinctively take a step back from Wesley.
August knows who I’m dating. I figured if he was going to go on a trail ride, I’d have to confess. If not, he would have arrived at whatever weird tension has taken its permanent residence between my boss and me.
“Hey, Gus!” I say, waving.
He pushes his glasses up further on his nose, looking nervous. “I’m not too early, am I?”
Wes turns, draping his arm around my shoulders. “Not at all. We have Intrepid just about ready for you at the end of the barn.”
Another figure pops out from around the corner. Megan stands with her sleek hair pulled back into a low ponytail, freckles across her cheeks, her forehead, all the way down her chest, where she wears a tank top and jeans.
Gus tosses a thumb in her direction. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “I added another client.”
“It’s no problem!” I say, walking forward to hug Megan, but I stop. “Actually,” I say, “I’m pretty sweaty. Better not.” I opt for placing my hands on her shoulders. “You can ride Deco. He’s one of my favorites, and already inside.”
We enter the barn, adding the last pieces of tack to the horses we plan to take out on the trails. I get to hear Megan explain how she and Gus met, finally. Relishing in the fact that my brother was, as predicted, a bumbling fool.
It’s endearing, though, to hear about Gus “borrowing” his neighbor’s dog for an excuse to talk to her.
Apparently, Megan had been dog walking three nights a week around the apartment complex.
When Gus caught on, he made his old neighbor, Connie, lend him her thirteen-year-old chihuahua, Elvis, so he could inquire about her pricing for his newly adopted, senior dog.
Elvis was already Megan’s client, so she caught on pretty quickly.
“I’m glad you took pity on him,” I say, tightening Lady’s girth.
Megan just laughs.
The grass has moved from a bright, spring green to a more muted green—one that speaks of the heat of the summer.
Blue skies stretch across the farm, dotted with fluffy white clouds that make the whole scene appear plucked out of a storybook, but when we ride back into the trees, the Earth seems to cool in the shade.
Gus looks awkward on a horse—gangly in the way his limbs seem too long for the rest of him. When he smiles back at Megan, something warms in my chest.
In the last few months, my job has bled into my relationship with my brother. I spent so much time worrying about what I would say and how I should act, I forgot to be just me. That’s not how it’s been recently, though, and I’m thankful for it. I get to just enjoy my brother’s company instead.
Gus found his way in the world, and he’s not defined by hospital stays or treatments. I hate that it took me so long to see it—to enjoy him as my brother first, without attaching the label sick to it.
My mom often highlighted his illness. She’d always consider what accommodations Gus needed, even when he needed none. I watched worry carve lines into her face—watched the way it aged her.
I thought it was just how we were supposed to behave. We were supposed to consider Gus and the entire family in every decision we made—even the ones I made as I grew older and bloomed into adulthood.
We break into the field, and I trot to catch up, placing my horse just next to his.
“Mom called me a few weeks ago,” I start, gauging his reaction.
“It’s about Megan and my procedure next week, isn’t it?”
I wince. “Yes. I really just wanted to make sure you knew I can help. Only if Megan needs a break, that is. I’m not pushing myself into your life.”
Gus sighs, slouching where he’s perched in the saddle. Wes rides up ahead of us, Megan hanging toward the back. I really should be sandwiching them in, but she seems to be a natural. My brother? Not so much.
He’s hunched over the horse like he’s trying to give himself a severe spinal injury.
Beyond that, his hands are fisted in the horse's mane, the reins so loose, I have to remind myself he’s on a horse that will follow along without a lot of guidance.
If he’d been on anyone else, I’m pretty sure my brother would be on the other side of the field by now.
“Also, put your heels down.” I chide. “If that horse wasn’t so old, you’d be sending him into the next zip code with that kind of position.”
Gus cuts me a withering look. “I’m staying on, aren’t I?” His shoulders relax a bit, and he straightens. “In terms of helping, you could just keep mom away.”
I grin, sitting up straighter in the saddle. “That’s actually my specialty,” I tease. “I am mom repellent.”
August just scoffs.
Silence descends between us, and I look out over the hill.
Sticky heat makes it feel like a heavy pressure is in my chest. When people talk about Ohio, they always mention the humidity on hot days like this.
And they would be right. If it weren’t for the humidity, I could probably tolerate it better.
We will have to properly cool down the horses when we get back.
Wes turns back to look at me, smiling before straightening himself out again. It warms my cheeks.
“You look happier,” Gus interrupts. “Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time, that is. Happier for you, and not just happy for others.”
“What do you mean?”