Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Henry re-entered his apartment at the farrier academy, thinking and hoping and praying it would be for the last time. “That’s it,” he said to his older brother, who turned from the window. They both scanned the bedroom that had been emptied of anything personal.
Paul smiled at him, and he seemed happier than Henry had seen him in a while. Probably because of his new girlfriend, who he hadn’t brought along today but whom Henry would meet this weekend, when he came back to Three Rivers to get a few things from the house where he’d grown up.
For he had a new home at Lone Star Ranch, and he had enough room to store more than he had here, in this tiny bedroom in a tiny apartment he’d shared with three other farrier students for the past couple of years.
“Ready?” Paul asked as he clapped a hand on Henry’s shoulder.
Henry took a deep breath, his nerves marching like fire ants through his body. “I guess I have to be, right?”
Paul sobered slightly. “You’re going to be amazing at Lone Star,” he said. “Remember how they had to fight off the other stables and farms to get you? And they only chose one man—the best man—and that was you.”
His brother had always been extraordinarily good at building him up, and that was only one reason Henry had to kneel down at night and beg God for forgiveness, because he sometimes had bitter and resentful feelings toward Paul.
Perfect Paul, who walked in their daddy’s footsteps and would take over Courage Reins when Daddy retired. Who never strayed too far from home, or from the straight and narrow path of his religion, or from doing and being just so…good.
Henry felt like the warped, deformed, discarded version of Paul, though his parents loved and believed in him. He intellectually knew they did, but sometimes his rebellious streak and his loud laughter told him that he didn’t really belong with them. That they didn’t really want him around.
“All right,” Daddy drawled, and Henry turned toward him. “We’ve got everything, yeah? Let’s hit the road.” He never was one to waste much time, and Henry had inherited that from his father.
“Thanks for coming to help,” he said, a wave of gratitude flowing over him, drowning him, until his emotions choked him. He swallowed, trying to find a way to breathe normally, but when his father looked at him with those piercing, all-seeing eyes, Henry actually coughed.
He’d wanted his daddy to be proud of him for so long, and he couldn’t quite decipher the look in his father’s eyes right now.
“We’ll always come when you need us,” Daddy said, and he pulled Henry into a hug. Henry gripped his daddy’s wide shoulders and pressed his eyes closed, really sinking into the embrace, into the comfort of a good parent, into himself and his place in the Marshall family.
His two younger brothers, John and Rich, had come to help too, and with a family of four young men, Henry hadn’t had to rely on any outside help.
John had just turned twenty-two, and he would graduate from Baylor in December.
He’d gone into Industrial Manufacturing, and he had an internship with a horse trailer company in San Antonio this summer.
He started next week, and Momma and Daddy would be helping him move then.
Henry wouldn’t go, but he assumed Paul and Rich would.
Rich had just graduated from high school last year, and he and JJ Walker were going to the state college in Amarillo come fall.
They’d both been working their family ranches for the past year, but Rich had said he finally felt “adult enough” to figure out what he wanted to do.
Henry had left home the very moment he could, not even waiting through the summer to move from small-town Three Rivers to the bigger city of Amarillo, and he hadn’t cared at all that he didn’t feel ready or didn’t know what to do with his life.
Daddy pulled back, and Henry let go of his father. He still wore that concerned, penetrating gaze, but he simply said, “Let’s not keep Momma waiting.”
Henry followed his daddy and brother out of the apartment and downstairs to the parking lot, where his truck had been loaded with everything he owned here.
Daddy had brought his horse, a pretty gray named Stormchaser, and they’d used the bed of his truck for the few boxes that hadn’t fit in Henry’s.
Paul got in the passenger seat of Henry’s truck, while Daddy got behind the wheel of his.
Momma and the other boys were already in the vehicle, and Henry suddenly felt the weight of all of them on his shoulders.
Daddy could map his way to Lone Star, but he’d wait to follow Henry, so he put the truck in drive and pulled out of the parking space.
“You seem really nervous,” Paul said as they left Amarillo in their rearview mirror.
“Yeah.” Henry gripped the steering wheel. He bit back the confession that he’d made a total fool of himself with his new boss—for Angel White absolutely was his boss—and he’d seriously considered giving up this apprenticeship simply so he wouldn’t have to see her again.
Ever.
At the same time, Henry desperately wanted to see her again in the flesh. He hadn’t for a couple of months now, because paperwork and instructions and details could be done via email, texts, and more emails.
No in-person meetings necessary.
But he was going to come face-to-face with her in less than thirty minutes, and Henry swallowed so he wouldn’t throw up.
“Why are you so nervous?” Paul asked. “You worked at Lone Star last year. You’re a fantastic farrier. You’re not going to encounter anything there you can’t handle.”
“Thank you, Paul,” Henry murmured. He looked out his side window, wishing his life had been as easy to understand as Paul’s, wishing what his brother had said could actually be true.
Because no, he wasn’t nervous about anything with the horses.
He wasn’t even nervous about dealing with Bard’s grouchiness.
He knew the cabin would be satisfactory, as Angel had sent him photos and even a video walk-through of the place.
As their single new apprentice this year, she’d given him a choice between two cabins and two bedrooms, and he’d chosen the one he wanted.
Lone Star employed plenty of other cowboys and horsemen to work with their large boarding and breeding stable. Some other farriers too, all of whom had more experience than Henry.
“I’m the lowest man on the totem pole,” he said, because that had contributed to his anxiety a tiny bit. “There are four other apprentices there, and of course, their master farriers.” Lone Star had three of those, and Henry had worked with all of them last year.
He liked Clay, Ford, and Shad a lot. They worked with a lot of younger men with patience, kindness, but absolute no-nonsense.
Henry had always enjoyed spending time with men older than him, as well as younger men his own age.
He wouldn’t hurt for people to hang out with at Lone Star, that was for sure. Of the male variety, at least.
“They know you,” Paul said. “You’ll fit in brilliantly. You always do.” He turned away as he said the last sentence, and that drew Henry’s attention.
He dry-swallowed again, wondering how many times a man could do that without causing damage to his throat. “You and I should double,” he said. “I’ll find someone to go out with, and you can introduce me to Brielle.” He looked over to Paul, who didn’t move at all.
“Maybe,” he said.
Henry didn’t push the issue, because he and Paul had reverted back to their usual places.
Of course his brother would come help him when he needed it.
Henry would drop anything to be there for him too.
For any of his brothers, for his parents, for his aunt and uncle and any of his cousins.
He hadn’t had a bad life at Three Rivers Ranch, Courage Reins, or any of it.
He simply felt like he might suffocate if he couldn’t carve out his own path in the world—and the world was so much bigger than Three Rivers, Texas.
But Paul had always felt inferior to Henry, for it was Henry who’d been popular in high school. Henry who had all the girlfriends. Henry who lived with passion and excitement—Paul’s words, not his.
Henry who’d fought the most voraciously with both Momma and Daddy. Henry who’d slammed the most doors as a teenager, who’d snuck out at night and hitchhiked into town, who’d initiated their family game nights and Turkey Bowl tradition on Thanksgiving.
Pure foolishness ran through him, because he felt like a bulldozer in a newly planted and growing field. A big bull in a china shop, clomping around and causing problems for everyone he came in contact with.
He sighed, because he couldn’t change who he was, not way down deep, anyway.
He had learned to curb his temper in the past decade, and he’d figured out that not every thought that entered his mind had to come out of his mouth.
He’d learned to work hard, be serious about things that mattered to him, and how to push through not-fun things to achieve the reward he wanted.
Before he knew it, he’d turned from the highway leading back to Three Rivers and onto the well-kept dirt road that led to Lone Star.
It sat north of Stinnett, about thirty-five minutes from the town of Three Rivers.
To get home to the ranch, though, would take Henry another forty-five, so he was still over an hour away.
Close, but not so close he couldn’t breathe. Close enough to go home for the day and then sleep in his own bed. Not close enough for Momma, but a good distance for Henry and his father.
And apparently Paul, he thought, wishing he could keep the resentment out of his head. He really didn’t need it right now, faced with the arch of Lone Star as he was.