Chapter 9 #2
“We all make mistakes, right?” Who am I to scold anyone?
I collect the pad and saddle, then the cinch and the reins, pausing a beat to work out the tangles.
It’s a mess in here. The Holt Landry I remember would have banished us to this room until we straightened everything.
“You can pay me back by letting me ride your horse.”
“Oh … okay.” Isla warns, “He doesn’t like most people.”
“Neither do I.”
“He threw Jon off once.”
“My kind of horse.” I’ve heard Jon’s an early riser. I’m surprised he’s not down here already. Maybe he’s on his way with his litter, which means I don’t want to be here when he arrives.
Jon kept his distance last night after that little showdown by the smoker, but I don’t doubt there’ll be a second round soon enough. “Get going on those hooves for me.”
Isla collects the pick and sets to work, running her hand down Biscuit’s front leg with a soft “up” command that he responds to without hesitation. She’s an old pro.
Meanwhile, I fumble with saddle buckles and the bridle. I used to be able to do this with my eyes closed.
While we quietly work, I think about Emery.
What does she do with her free time these days?
Besides drive her kid to hockey, which apparently consumes a lot of hours.
Does she have friends? Hobbies? Is there someone in her life?
My mother’s letters never mentioned any dates or prospects.
Granted, the divorce was nasty, but that was years ago.
“Is your mom seeing anyone—”
“Who let Copper out?” a boyish voice hollers then, a moment before Thomas steps into the barn, followed by his twin brothers. All three wear wide-brimmed hats. At least they’ve balanced it with flannel jackets and practical rubber boots for mucking.
“It turned into the fucking Wild West while I was gone,” I mutter under my breath, annoyed at their poor timing.
Isla snorts.
Louder, I say, “I let him out and I cleaned his stall. You got a problem with that?”
Thomas shakes his head, his eyes wide with fear.
I temper my tone. “Good. You can pay me back by helping me set up my phone later.”
“Aren’t you gonna clean ours?” one of the twins asks—which one, who knows? They’re identical demons.
“Nope.” Grabbing my coat from the hook, I guide Biscuit out of the barn, past the corral gate, the sound of the twins’ whining fading the farther I get.
Biscuit tosses his head back with excitement as the wide-open field waits before us.
“Yeah, you know what’s coming, right?” I stroke his muzzle. “Go easy on me, boy. It’s been a minute.”
He answers with a huff.
I slip my foot into a stirrup and hoist myself onto his back. Just like riding a bike. But wouldn’t it be ironic, to survive so many years behind bars relatively unscathed, only to break my neck the morning after I returned home because I didn’t listen to a sixteen-year-old girl’s warning?
“There you are!”
I stifle my groan—I hate when I’m right—and school my expression before turning Biscuit to meet my brother-in-law as he strolls up with purpose.
Jon has swapped his red plaid shirt for a blue one, but otherwise, he’s dressed the exact same as he was last night. Right down to the tacky belt buckle and stupid hat. “Been lookin’ everywhere for ya, all morning!” he announces cheerily.
“Everywhere?” I drawl.
He shrugs. “I went to the main house. Mum said she hadn’t seen you. So, I knocked on your door. Figured you were still asleep.”
“Yeah, I don’t sleep.” Not much, anyway. Haven’t since I was last under a Landry roof. It’s hard to with one eye open, and I don’t see myself breaking that habit anytime soon.
“I guess you wouldn’t.” Jon scratches his chin. “How ’bout I get saddled up and give you a tour ’round the property—”
“I don’t need a tour. I grew up here.” Beneath me, Biscuit dances impatiently.
Jon holds his hands in the air. “Look, I know. I get it.”
“Do you?” Does Jon—or anyone else around here—have the slightest fucking clue what I’m feeling?
“I don’t mean any offense. I’m just … things have changed.
The herd’s a lot bigger, and they don’t like strangers.
” Jon gestures toward the left where, in the far distance, a cluster of animals graze, tiny brown dots against the green landscape.
“Plus, that back quarter I bought is wild. Still have a lot of clearing to do—”
“I could find my way around this land in the dark.” At least, I could at one time in my life. And the fact that Jon’s buying up adjacent land is annoying.
Jon lifts his hat to brush his hair off his forehead before setting it down again. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, but you gotta admit, this is some adjusting for all of us. I don’t know how we got off on the wrong foot, but can we try again? For everyone’s sake?”
Biscuit refuses to stand still anymore, turning in place.
From the chicken coop, my mother watches us, a hefty basket in her hand. Nearby, Macy teases the collies with a stick in the air before tossing it for them to give chase. There’s no way they can hear our words, and yet even from here, I sense my mother holding her breath.
“I’m goin’ for a ride now. Alone. When I get back, I’ll let you show me what you think I need to see. Deal?”
Jon claps his hands together. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve gotta go check on—”
I don’t hang around to hear the end of that sentence, directing Biscuit away with a squeeze of my calves against his sides.
In seconds, he’s running at full gallop.
And, for just a beat, it’s like I’ve woken up from this eternal nightmare.