13. Forgotten
Forgotten
Silas
Normally on Saturday mornings, it’s just me, Shadow, and the open pastures, where the silence stretches as far as the horizon.
But this morning, Helena’s plans have thrown a wrench in that peace.
Instead of sitting down to breakfast with the rest of the men, I grabbed a quick bacon sandwich and my coffee, then headed out to the stables.
Helena doesn’t know it yet, but she’s not going out on the trails alone.
When I told her she wouldn’t be riding out unarmed, she’d dismissed it outright, stubborn as ever.
But I’ve got a different plan. Out here, we guard our herds from predators.
I’ll do the same for the people under my roof, even if they don’t ask for it.
“Mr. Hayes?” Helena’s voice cuts through the stillness, soft and almost hesitant. I look up from where I’m saddling Merriweather, the mare I’ve chosen for her.
“Ms. Toth,” I reply, tipping my hat slightly. “Good morning.”
She’s dressed in her usual jeans and flannel, but today, it’s not buttoned all the way up. The faintest glimpse of her undershirt peeks through, dipping lower than I’m used to seeing. My eyes linger a second too long, catching on the pale curve of skin before I force myself to look away .
“Is this the mare?” she wonders with a gentle curiosity, stepping closer.
I nod, patting the horse’s neck. “This is Merriweather.”
Her eyes soften as she takes in the mare’s features. “Can I meet her?”
The way she asks is as if she’s seeking permission from both me and the animal, pulls at something in my chest. Merriweather was Caroline’s horse. I know she was Helena’s best option for an easy ride; the mare is hands down the most even-tempered horse we have, but it still makes my chest ache.
I step aside, motioning toward the horse. “Go ahead.”
Helena approaches with slow, calm movements and a soft murmur as she speaks to Merriweather.
I can’t make out the words, but the sound alone seems to settle the mare.
Merriweather’s ears twitch toward her, cautious but curious.
Helena keeps talking, her tone steady. She patiently allows the horse to smell her hand, then she reaches up, her hand hovering for a moment before resting gently on the mare’s neck.
The change is immediate. The tension in Merriweather’s muscles melts away. Her nostrils flare once, then relax. Even her lip twitches, a sure sign of trust.
I watch, rooted to the spot. Helena moves like she’s done this a thousand times, her hand trailing gently along the mare’s neck, her voice a quiet melody. It’s mesmerizing how easily she connects with the animal, as if speaking a language only they understand.
For a moment, it feels like I’m intruding on something intimate, something sacred. The way she draws Merriweather in, without force or expectation, it's the same way she was the first time I saw her with Kiran, the way she managed to break through his walls without even trying.
Something sour flickers in my stomach. Merriweather was Caroline’s horse and the sight of the two of them almost makes me regret selecting her. Seeing them bond so quickly makes me feel uneasy.
“You’ve got a way with her,” I say quietly, still watching her .
Helena glances back at me, her eyes lighting up with a quiet pride. “She’s beautiful. You can tell she’s strong, but gentle.”
“She is. If you’re good here, I’m going to get Shadow set.”
Helena’s eyes snap to mine, her braid whipping to her back. “Why are you getting Shadow ready?”
“You refused to carry on your ride, so you’re not going alone,” I tell her, my voice flat as I walk out of Merriweather’s stall.
She follows behind me. “I can fair just fine on my own, Mr. Hayes. No need for an escort.”
“I’m sure you can, Ms. Toth. But you don’t know the trails like I do. You aren’t going out alone.”
“You’re act–”
“Quiet .” The word leaves my mouth as a command. Her eyes flare, but I hold my ground. I exhale slowly, my voice lowering. “While you’re here, your safety is my responsibility. Either you carry, I go with you, or you stay put in the house. Your choice, Helena.”
I step into Shadow’s stall and begin my work, letting her stew over her choices. After a moment, she appears at the entrance, arms crossed, with a bitter look on her face.
Her chin lifts, defiant even in defeat. "Merriweather is ready. I’m going to get us water from the house. When I get back, we leave."
She turns sharply; her boots an unyielding rhythm against the ground as she leaves. I watch her go, the fire in her step lighting something dormant in me. Once she’s far enough out of earshot, I mutter under my breath, “Yes ma’am.”
I tack up Shadow, walk to Merriweather’s stall, and guide her out.
Grabbing Shadow’s rein, I lead the two horses out of the stables.
Just as we step into the sun, Helena strides toward me, her Stetson casting a shadow over her glinting eyes, a loose braid swaying like a rope across her shoulder.
She’s carrying two thermoses, shoving one toward me when she approaches.
“Thanks.” I tuck it into my saddlebag, but before I can ask, she’s already reaching for Merriweather’s reins .
“May I?” Her voice softens a bit, but there’s still a command in it.
I nod, handing her the reins. She murmurs to the mare again, and the spell she’s weaving works. In one smooth motion, Helena swings up into the saddle, her every move fluid, as if born to ride. Merriweather doesn’t so much as flick an ear.
“You ready, Mr. Hayes?” Helena’s voice carries a teasing tone as she glances back, eyes sparkling.
I mount Shadow, settling into the saddle. “Lead the way, Ms. Toth.”
She clicks her tongue and taps Merriweather’s flank, setting a relaxed pace down the winding trail to the pastures. The only sounds are the rustle of leaves and the steady beat of hooves. I keep my distance, letting the silence stretch between us.
Past the treeline, rolling pastures appear, their hills vibrant with the green and gold of spring. Helena pulls Merriweather to a stop, her gaze sweeping across the land.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
“Pretty much all of what you see belongs to the ranch,” I reply, my tone carrying the significance of four generations. “It’s been in my family on my mother’s side for over a hundred years.”
Her eyes linger on me now, curious. “You love this land, don’t you?”
I shift, resting an arm on the saddle horn. “Hard not to. It’s everything to me. It’s home, work, life. It’s provided for me and Kiran. Kept food on the table for men who’ve had nowhere else to go.”
She hesitates, then asks, “Did your wife love it too?”
The question hits like a stray bullet, piercing through the air between us. I let out a slow breath. “She did. Almost as much as I do.”
Helena watches me. “How did she die?” she asks quietly.
The memories surface, a tide of fragmented moments. “I don’t remember,” I admit, my voice rough. “One day she was here, and the next…The next, I was coming home from her funeral. ”
Though her brows knit in confusion, she doesn’t press.
She just turns back to the pastures, her silence a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
The truth is, I’ve tried to remember. Tried to force my mind back to that day, to that night, but it’s a black hole, swallowing everything after the warmth of her beside me in our bed.
We sit in the quiet, unspoken things settling over us like dust. Then Helena looks at me again, a spark of mischief breaking through the somber air.
“Do you like to ride fast, Mr. Hayes?”
I straighten, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. But she doesn’t wait for an answer. With a flick of the reins, she urges Merriweather forward, her laughter spilling out like the wind catching a wildfire. She rides fast and free, daring me to catch her.
A grin tugs at my lips. I nudge Shadow into a gallop, the two of us tearing across the open field. The air is sharp and electric, and for the first time in a long while, I’m not thinking of Caroline. All I can hear is Helena’s laughter and the thunder of hooves on the earth.