3. Nathan
3
NATHAN
Star Mountain Horse Rescue looks exactly how I remember. It’s at the end of a dirt road, with fields on either side, and the driveway has a wooden sign with the name carved into it, alongside a rough carving of a horse. Two towering evergreens flank the long, slightly ramshackle stables, and beyond is a squat ranch house with pine siding. There are paddocks with horses happily munching away, and an enormous barn with a tin roof where I assume she does groundwork.
She being the devil incarnate. The hissing viper.
I cut the engine and hop out of my truck, and immediately go around the back to the trailer. Inside is my pride and joy: Ballantine, or Bally as I like to call him. My baby. The horse I raised from a foal, the one I trained to be the best damn reining horse in the country, and the one who’s seen me through multiple championship titles. And the only soul on Earth who knows that our last run was more than likely our final run ever.
When I told him, in the quiet of his stall the night after I got into the fight with Brad, he answered with a soft whicker and by pressing his muzzle into my palm, searching for more treats. Bally would keep going as long as I wanted him to—he’s not the problem. I am. I fucked up, like usual, but this time it doesn’t seem like my reputation is going to survive the hit. I’ve been dodging calls from my manager all week.
I unlock the back of the trailer and hop in, immediately hearing Bally’s annoyed vocalization, demanding out immediately. He’s never made his peace with the trailer, and as I gently talk to him and ask him to back up, he makes increasingly anxious noises, snorting and blowing.
“It’s alright, Bal, I swear,” I tell him.
He stomps his hoof, which is clad in a boot to make the journey a bit easier for him to endure.
“I know you don’t believe me, but getting out of the trailer is going to be so much better than getting into it.”
He takes a step backwards, and I send up a prayer of thanks. Normally it takes much longer to get him out.
And then I hear it, a soft but firm feminine voice coming from outside.
“Come on, Ballantine, it’s alright,” the voice says, and my horse actually listens and continues to back out of the trailer, one step at a time.
Waiting for the both of us is the hissing viper herself: Candice Wilson. The woman who inexplicably hates me, and my best friend’s little sister.
“Traitor,” I say to Bally, not lowering my voice.
Candice just lets out a laugh that sounds more like a bark, and pushes her wild blonde hair out of her face, tucking it back behind the rim of her hat. The movement draws my attention away from Ballantine and towards her face. Despite the laugh, she’s already glowering at me, her mouth set in a line, her whiskey-colored eyes flashing. It’s not lost on me that she has eyes the same color as my horse, and the same color as his namesake.
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
“I was walking around the front of the barn and it looked and sounded like you needed some help,” she says, shrugging.
“With my own horse?”
“Yep,” she says. “Look, owning a horse doesn’t always mean being good with horses, Nathan and it’s?—”
“It’s Nate,” I growl, because no one calls me Nathan anymore.
“Whatever, Nathan.”
My dirty traitor of a horse leans his head forward, giving the devil a sniff. And stupidly, I flick my wrist, pulling him back a bit. Candice, of course, notices immediately.
“What? Not even your horse is allowed to like me?” she bites out.
“He does not like you.” But I release the tension in the rope, because Bally can sniff whoever he wants to sniff, and I’m confident I’m his favorite.
“Sure he doesn’t,” she says, reaching out and rubbing his muzzle a bit. The light catches her hair, making the honey strands shimmer. Which is not something I should be noticing but I guess I can’t help it. I’ve always had a thing for blondes.
I clear my throat. “Can you, uh, show me where Bally’s going to be boarded? I want to get him settled. He doesn’t like the trailer.”
Her face softens at that. Horses, it would seem, are the way to Candice Wilson’s hard as nails heart.
“Sure, just follow me.” She turns on her heel and marches towards the barn.
And that’s when I notice that Beau’s little sister has a delectable peach of an ass, wrapped tightly in a pair of weathered jeans. As she walks, her hips sway and I can’t look away.
Maybe all Candice Wilson needs is a good fuck, I think.
No. Bad, Nathan. Bad. No going after Beau’s little sister , my conscience says back.
But she’d look so good bent over and begging ? —
“I’m charging you twelve hundred dollars a month,” Candice says, and the dirty fantasy I was having comes to a screeching halt.
“That’s double the price of the best barns around.”
“So?” she says, spinning to face me, hand on her hip. “Are you saying Star Mountain isn’t the best?”
“I’m saying it’s seen better days.” I look pointedly at the rusted handles on the sliding stable doors.
“Well, we don’t all have millions of dollars in prize money and endorsements sitting around. We’re a charity,” she sniffs.
Okay, I probably deserved that one, and I have no problem with the state Star Mountain is in or what they do. In fact, I donate to a similar charity near the family ranch every year. But she’s still trying to rob me blind.
“Fine. But twelve hundred is a lot. Is it full care?”
“No,” she says. “Because again, we’re a charity and my team doesn’t have time for another horse. We’ll provide the food, but you’ll be grooming and making sure he gets turned out.”
“Then what, exactly, am I paying for?” I ask. Beside me, Bally starts bobbing his head up and down, and stomps again. He’s always cranky after a long time on the road.
“For the privilege of being here,” Candice says, and then she turns around and walks into the stable.
“Conversation over then, I guess,” I mutter, following behind her with Bally, and keeping my eyes firmly on her shoulders.
“What else is there to say?” she says, coming to a stop near what I assume is Bally’s stall. “You need to do community service because you’re an idiot and a brawler.”
“I’m not an idiot and?—”
“That part is not up for debate,” she fires back. “As I was saying. You need community service, and we can give that to you here. So unless you want to go pick up trash on the side of the highway while dragging Ballantine behind you, pony up the cash.”
“If I was picking up trash with Ballantine, I’d obviously be mounted,” I can’t help but say.
“With a very long trash poker,” she says, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile. “Cowboy hat included.”
“And a rope for lassoing the especially big pieces.”
Candice grants me a half smile at that, and it almost reaches her eyes.
“When does Bally eat?” she asks, changing the subject, like she’s afraid to keep bantering with me. “We free feed a lot of the horses so there’s already hay in there. But I can take the net out if he’s on a schedule.”
“He ate on the journey. Helps him with his nerves. I’ve never tried free feeding because we move around so much, but I’ve always wanted to. Let’s see how he does with it.”
“Great,” she says. “The water in there is already full. Once he’s all settled, I can show you around.”
I nod, and quickly get Ballantine into the stall, which he starts to nose around in, immediately noticing the full net of hay.
“Don’t gorge yourself Bals,” I tell him.
I manage to wrestle his halter off of him while he’s muzzle deep in hay, and I sigh. Lucky for him, we probably aren’t competing again anytime soon so he can get as fat as he wants. I give him a few pats and then leave the stall. I find Candice whispering to a beautiful pinto horse.
“I know,” I catch her say. “He’s…well, Maggie we’re just going to have to get…it’ll be fine.”
I clear my throat. Candice whirls around and a flash of red blooms across her face.
“Really, Candice? Talking shit about me to the horses? Before they’ve even had a chance to get to know me for themselves.” I make a tsking noise and shake my head at her.
“As if Maggie would like you anyways,” she says, sounding so petulant I nearly laugh.
“I’m guessing this is Maggie?” I say, jerking my chin at the mare.
“Yes,” Candice says, and elaborates no further. Though, if I had to guess, I’d say that Maggie is to Candice what Ballantine is to me: her best friend. It’s in the easy way she rubs the spot between Maggie’s eyes, and the way the mare lips at the collar of her shirt and then rests her huge head on Candice’s shoulder.
Candice gives Maggie a final pat and then proceeds to show me the stables.
“Tack room is over there,” she says pointing at a small room. “And next to it is where we have food storage. Supplements, oats, and hay pellets. Grooming supplies are with the tack.”
“I brought my own, thanks,” I say.
“Sure, but you’ll be grooming the other horses. And mucking the stalls and paddocks. We have some horses who like to be out most of the time, and others who prefer being indoors a bit more.”
“What?” I ask, because that was not how Beau described the job I’d be doing.
“Mucking. Heard of it?”
“Of course I’ve heard of mucking. I’ve been around horses my entire?—”
“Well, when was the last time you did it yourself?” she asks, tapping her foot on the stable floor.
A bit of shame swells in me, and I’m reminded of the fact that I haven’t actually cleaned a stall in years. I mucked plenty when I was working on the ranch as a kid, and even when I started riding in competitions I still helped out with the grunt work.
But for the last four years, I’ve been hopping from stock show to rodeo, buckle bunny to buckle bunny, and putting Ballantine up with full board wherever I go. I don’t even remember the last time I tacked him up myself. But there is no way in hell I’m telling Candice Wilson that. I’m sure she’s the type of horsewoman who never lets the basics slip—who knows that caring for our horses personally is an important part of bonding with them.
Once upon a time, I’d probably have hated the person I’ve become and sided with the hissing viper in this hypothetical debate I’m having.
“What?” she asks. “It can’t be that difficult for you to remember.”
“It’s not,” I snap. “But I’m not here to muck. Beau said you needed help working with the horses. As in training them.”
Candice’s eyebrows shoot up and almost reach the brim of her cowboy hat. “Well, Nathan, my brother is not the manager of Star Mountain, I am. And I decide where volunteers are needed. Right now, we need help with just about everything, except training.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” I sweep my eyes around the stables, which are clearly in need of a clean and some repairs. There’s hay everywhere. All of the locks on the doors are rusted. Old blankets are lying around, and I even see a pile of used horseshoes in the corner.
“What does that mean?” Candice hisses.
“That this place is clearly a mess,” I say.
“Okay,” she says. “Then you can fucking clean it .” She grabs a nearby broom that’s leaning against the wall and slams it against my chest so hard I take a step back. “Community service starts right now.”
And then she’s gone, stomping past me and into what must be the barn office, slamming the door behind her. A few stalls down, Ballantine lifts his head up from the hay he’s been demolishing and snorts.
“I know,” I say. “I’m being an asshole.”
Still, I can’t help it. Candice isn’t easy to work with and I normally get along with everyone. It’s kind of my thing. But something about her—the haughty stomp of her boots as she walks, her fiery glare, and yes, her denim clad ass—just brings out the fucking worst in me. I’ve never been able to get along with my best friend’s little sister. In fact, we’ve basically hated one another from the moment we met, and I’m wishing that Beau had told me that she managed the barn. I imagined Beau and I working together every day, hanging out, and relaxing with a few beers in the evening. If I’m being honest, I thought that doing community service here would be a nice break from my old life.
Clearly, I was wrong. I put the broom down without sweeping up a single speck of dirt or hay, and then head out to find the bastard who convinced me to come here in the first place.
After a few minutes of walking around the stables and finding no sign of Beau, I make my way to the paddocks in the back of the property. I pass by a few curious faces and reach out to stroke some muzzles and introduce myself. There are more horses here than the last time I was at Star Mountain. That was years ago, back when Beau’s grandparents still ran the place, but it looks like he and his sister have expanded the place quite a bit since then. Though, based on the condition of the stable that may have more to do with them being unable to turn down an animal in need than it does with actual finances. Horse rescues and sanctuaries are tough to run.
I find Beau pacing in front of the ranch house, cell phone pressed against his ear.
“Yeah,” he says. “I can be there in fifteen.”
“Something going on?” I ask when he hangs up.
“When the hell did you get here?” he asks, ignoring my question. But he starts to walk at a clip towards where his truck is parked, and I follow along after him.
“About half an hour ago. I got Ballantine settled in and then the vip—Candice, I mean, uh showed me around.”
All Beau says in response is “Hm,” which is typical of him.
But when we reach his truck he says, “Want to come help me foal a mare?
I grin at him. “Hell yeah.”
On the way back from the foaling, Beau and I stop at the Neon Horseshoe, the only bar in Star Mountain, for a beer. It’s quiet, and a far cry from the rowdy joints I’ve become used to, with only a few tables full of people. But I’m sure the town turns up in full force on Friday and Saturday nights.
“I haven’t seen that in a while,” I say when we sit down. “Not since I was a kid and we had a pregnant mare at the ranch.”
“Well I’ve got at least three other pregnant patients that might foal soon, so you’re in luck,” Beau says.
“Just look at its little face,” I say, holding my phone out to show him the photo I managed to snap of the brand-new foal. It’s a palomino color, like its mom. The owners are a couple who run a small dude ranch down the road from the rescue, and Beau is the vet for all of the horses they have.
Beau swigs slowly from his beer and then sets it down. “You should show that to Candice,” he says.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because she loves foals. She usually comes with me and will be upset that she missed it.”
Candice’s face, lighting up with joy, flashes through my mind. It’s a strange image, and one I think I’ve conjured up from thin air. Because I’m positive she’s never looked like that around me.
“Why don’t I send it to you and you can show her,” I say.
“Because I didn’t take the picture, Nate.”
“She won’t react well if I show it to her.”
“Why not?” Beau asks a bit too innocently, and I realize I’ve been led straight into a trap, and that my best friend is trying to pry.
“Because, Beau, you know damn well that Candice hates me.”
“And how do you feel about her?” he asks, his voice icy cold now. Back in college, where Beau and I became friends before I dropped out, I was the guy who all the girls knew was an easy fuck, but Beau was the one they were too afraid to approach but desperately in love with.
“Your sister?—
“Yeah, what the fuck about my sister , Nate?”
I sigh and try to find a way to say this that won’t piss him off too much. Because Beau loves Candice more than anything in this world. “Your sister is…not my biggest fan. And I’m not hers, either. But I won’t cause any problems for her if she doesn’t cause any problems for me.”
“You’re damn right you won’t,” he says. “The rescue has enough issues as it is. And I only got Candice to agree to take you as a volunteer because I promised her you’d be on good behavior.”
I ignore the part about the rescue’s issues, but tell myself I’ll ask about it later.
“By the way,” I say, still treading lightly. “What exactly did you tell Candice I’d be doing while I was volunteering?”
Beau shrugs his shoulders. “Candice organizes the volunteer work.”
“So when you told me that I’d be helping with training, you were lying.” I glower over my beer at Beau, but he doesn’t seem to give a fuck.
“I just assumed she’d put your talents to good use, because that’s the obvious place you fit in around here,” he says. He finally seems to notice my dagger eyes and says, “What’d she stick you with? Muck duty?”
“Yes.”
Beau throws his head back and laughs. “Of course she did. Candice knows how to hit a man where it hurts. Taking America’s rodeo king and making him muck. I hope you wear your championship belt buckles to the barn.” He laughs more, his voice nearly going hoarse. “Damn, I haven’t laughed like that in a while. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” I say. “Help me convince her to let me train.”
“Now, Nate, if you think you’re too good to be a stable hand, just say so,” Beau says, eyes twinkling.
“I am not too good for it. Christ, Beau, you know what it was like when I was growing up…” I trail off, unwilling to add more detail about how much the ranch suffered, how my siblings and I had to pitch in and help with everything from the time we were barely twelve. I don’t resent my mom for it, and we were happy to help, but working on that ranch ate up most of my childhood.
“I know,” he says, serious now.
“So help me out here. Convince Candice to let me train. I haven’t worked with rescues before, but I’d like to learn. And I’ve been pretty damn good at the training I’ve done before. I trained Bally myself at first, and I’d like to develop the skill more.”
“Candice is the barn manager,” Beau says. “And if she doesn’t want you helping her with training, then there’s not much I can do about it. But anytime I need help, you’ll be the first one I call.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“And Nate?” Beau says.
“Yeah?”
“Working with rescued horses is the most difficult thing you’ll do, but it’s also the most rewarding. Even if you’re just cleaning out stalls and grooming, it will still challenge you and uncover parts of yourself that you didn’t know existed. Sometimes, it will rip your heart out, but when it does, you’ll know it was for the right reason.” He pauses for a long moment, letting the words sink in, before continuing. “And you should also know that my sister is the absolute best there is, period. And there is no one more dedicated to our horses than her.”