Little Red’s Riding by Nicole Casey
Ruby
As far as‘first days back home again’ go, mine could have gone worse. I could have been kidnapped or hit by a bus, for instance. If anything, it had been a clear and immediate reminder for why I left in the first place: too many broken lives, more than a few I’d had a part in breaking.
Lincoln, for all his faults, he’d cared about me. I suppose that was his biggest fault, come to think of it.
Ryder had cared for his sister, Tammy. And so had I, damn it. What happened to her wasn’t my fault. But Ryder had got it stuck in his head that it was. And when Ryder got something stuck in his head, good luck trying to get it out.
And Gran. Though she’d tried to appear cheerful, telling me nothing was wrong, she’d just been a little tired lately, I caught glimpses of pain every now and again when she thought I wasn’t looking. Oh, Gran. You’re the strongest one of them all. If you’re not feeling right, how can anyone feel right?
Waking up in my own bed alone, I was surprised that I actually missed Aiden. The feeling passed quickly once I got out of bed and into the shower. Mom was on the phone. The conversation sounded serious. I couldn’t stay in the house. The sun was out, and I needed to stretch my legs.
All the pain and the bad memories come for you when you’re lying still. Got to keep moving. They can’t get you when you’re moving.
I took my camera and headed out to capture the more pleasant side of my hometown: the horses.
Instinctively, I headed out for Magnolia Stables, where, as a child, I had learned to ride and to race. Halfway there I remembered what Ryder had said, that it had been turned into a cattle ranch.So, I decided, instead, to try and find some landscape shots: the winding creeks and rivers that cut through the sprawling fields and rocky slopes; the mountain peaks jagged in the distance.
I was conscious of the fact that I was walking back to the rodeo site, but I lied to myself and told myself that I was only taking pictures of the landscape, that when I got near the rodeo I would head back and take some pictures of the woods. But as soon as I saw the first trailer and the promise of horses it signified, I picked up my pace and hurried toward the ranch.
This time, I wouldn’t walk up the main lane. This time, like Wolf had accused me of, I would sneak around to the back, maybe get some shots of cowboys, unaware of my presence, as they rode or practiced their lassoing techniques.
The woods offered me good cover as I slipped behind the trees all the way to the outer edge of the adjacent riding ring. There were no riders out, but the stable doors were open, and I could hear horses and stablehands at work.
‘If I ever catch you round here again, I’ll…’ What retribution had Wolf promised me?
Though I couldn’t remember his threat exactly, the intent behind it was crystal clear. It did make me hesitate. But the pull the horses had on me was too strong.
There were no trees or trailers to hide behind as I approached the stables. I could only walk up, in clear sight, exposed, hoping I’d make it there and get off a few shots before Wolf or someone like him caught sight of me.
I was a few feet from the stable entrance when Wyatt came out of one of the stables, pitchfork in hand.
He startled me, and I jumped back and gasped.
He looked up at me and smiled. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and I could see the beginning of his ripped chest glistening from the sweat of his labor.
I put a hand to my mouth to hide any drooling I might have unconsciously been doing.
“Howdy,” he said, and he tipped his hat to me.
A feeble “Wyatt” was all that I could manage.
He pulled his hat back, the sun catching his tanned face, and squinting at me, said, “How’s your grandmother doing?”
I must have stood there a good minute wondering what he was talking about. Who’s my grandmother? And why is he asking me about her?
With his head, he motioned to my hand. “No basket today, but I see you’ve brought a camera.”
Basket?
Then I snapped out of it and reminded myself that I wasn’t at a photoshoot and this hunk before me was not my handsome model. You just met him yesterday when you were on your way to Grans.
Meeting Wyatt then seeing Gran, the two events had seemed worlds apart in my mind. I chuckled. “Right, my grandmother, Blanchette.” I tilted my head to the side. “I don’t know, to be honest. She looked good, lively, and full of good cheer. But I think it might have been an act.”
He looked concerned. The softness of his features was replaced with seriousness and reflection. His lips puckered as if he were about to whistle, but he merely exhaled slowly and thoughtfully.
Damn, I should be getting this on film.
“And how are you doing?” he said, taking a step toward me.
How am I doing? I’m about to faint. You better run over here, cowboy, and catch me before I fall.
I bit down nervously on my lower lip. “Never better,” I said.
He passed the pitchfork to his free hand then tilted his head to the side, grabbed his neck, and rubbed at it. I watched his fingers work into his muscle, moving and molding his skin as if it were hard clay.
I passed my tongue over my lips, and that wasn’t the only wetness I felt.
“You want I show you around?” he said.
“Yes,” I replied, far more eagerly than intended. “But what about Wolf?”
He chuckled then raised his pitchfork. “I’ll ward him off with this.” He waved me over to him. “Come on. You can help me dress Oakley.”
“Gladly.”
He offered me his arm. I hooked my arm in his, and together we entered the stables like a happy couple out for a Sunday stroll.
Oakley was a stoic white-hooved gelding that came to the stable door at our approach.
“Hello there, Oakley,” said Wyatt, putting a hand to the gelding’s forehead. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Oakley, this is Ruby.” Then to me, he added, “Ruby, this is Oakley.”
There might have been a dozen stablehands working there at the moment. There might have been a hundred Wolves spotting me and coming to yell at me for my intrusion. But at that moment, everything in my periphery vanished. Every other sound faded. It was just me, the beautiful horse I was petting, and Wyatt looking on with a smile at my side.
“You still race?” Wyatt asked me.
I shook my head with regret. “I haven’t raced in years.” Then I looked at Wyatt and tilted my head to the side. “Wait. How did you know I used to race?”
He chuckled, removed his hat, and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand before putting his hat back on. “You still don’t remember me, do you?”
I put my hand on his arm. It was rock hard and warm to the touch. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wish I did. How could I not remember meeting someone like you?”
My words sounded so silly, so desperate. I took my hand from his arm and put it on my forehead. You sound like a child fawning over her favorite boy band, Ruby!
“It’s a good thing you don’t recognize me,” said Wyatt.
“Why? Did you behave inappropriately?”
He shook his head vigorously. “What, me? Never.”
I lowered my head and curled my lips, exaggerating my disappointment. “Well, that’s a shame.” He laughed, which gave me a sudden boost of confidence I was not used to. “But it’s never too late.”
“For what?”
I bumped him with my hips. “To act inappropriately.”
Oakley raised his head and neighed: horse for ‘get a room’.
“Do you have plans for Friday night?” he asked.
“Yep,” I lied.
“Well, cancel them. I’m taking you out.”
I leaned back, turned my head, and looked at him out of the corners of my eyes. “Cancelling my plans, that would be acting inappropriately, don’t you think?”
“Perfect,” he said then smiled at me wryly. “We’ll make it the theme of the night.”
