Page 39 of Touch the Sky
I still force the corners of my mouth up while the guests pull out of the lot, since ‘grumpy and suffering from caffeine withdrawal’ doesn’t make for good reviews on Trip Advisor.
I can’t help thinking back to that night at Mack’s Bistro, when Tess called my smile ‘haunting.’ I chuckle at the memory even as a zing of nerves shoots up my spine. That was over a week ago. Tess signed the lease the next day, and now here we are: October first.
Moving day.
I stand there waving until the last car has peeled out onto the highway. It was a pretty full booking for an October ride: a couple and a family of four. If it weren’t for the Balsam Inn promotion, I doubt I would have had anyone to take out on the trails today.
I turn to face the barn and try to scrounge up even a flicker of hope that things are turning around, but all I can see are the thousand tasks that still need doing, along with all the money I don’t have to do them with. There’s a cracked window that needs replacing. I have to order some new insulation for our arena so I’ll be able to exercise the horses without freezing to death this winter. There’s also the mysterious rattling noise in my truck’s engine that I’ve been ignoring for months.
Six customers aren’t going to change any of that.
I drag my hands through my hair and sigh. Everything else will have to wait. Right now, I’ve got to hurry up and get the horses untacked so I’ll be ready up at the house when Tess and Shel arrive.
The horses are standing in a line along the hitching post, their heads drooping like they’re sleepy too. The October morning is chilly enough that mist clouds in the air in front of their noses, the condensation sparkling in the pale morning light.
“Good job today, my dudes,” I say, pausing to salute them. “Breakfast is waiting to be served.”
By me. I also need to finish that before Tess gets here.
I get to work untacking, starting with my mount for the day: Pierrot, a mischievous piebald pony I reserve for more experienced riders, since he’s known for trotting away in search of off-road snacks if he doesn’t have a firm hand to reel him in.
His belly puffs out with relief when I unbuckle his girth. I free him of his saddle and slip off his bridle, leaving him hooked up by his halter to the post. I give him a quick brush down andthen move onto the next horse in line, working through the same series of movements on auto-pilot, just like I have thousands of times before.
When I get to third horse in line, I curse under my breath.
“Sam, what did you do?”
The bay gelding is covered in burs he must have brushed up against somewhere along the trail. The spikey balls are dotted all along one of his haunches. I swear again and get to work pulling them out. His thick coat keeps him from being bothered, but the spikes are pricking my fingers enough that I have to give up and hunt around for some gloves in the barn.
“I do not have time for this,” I mutter as I toss burr after burr to the ground.
Tess will be here any minute. I was hoping to do a final sweep of the property before she arrived, just to make sure nothing has gone wrong since I checked last night.
Maybe Joaquin broke in and pooped on all the furniture. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I breathe hard through my nose as I try not to think about all the things that could go wrong today. Tess may have signed a lease, but I’m sure there’s still some way she could get out of it. She’s only ever seen the house a couple times. She might realize she doesn’t want to live in a place with random crap piled on the porch and a lawn that needs to be cut and a driveway that still needs last summer’s weeds pulled.
There’s so much I wanted to get done before today.
The burr removal ends up taking so much concentration I don’t realize a truck has pulled up at the house until I hear a door slam. I step away from the horses and squint at the driveway, a shock of nerves shooting through me when I spot Tess’s truck hooked up to the trailer she’s borrowing from one of my uncles.
“Câlice,” I swear.
I still have two more horses left.
I watch as Shel comes running around the side of the truck, the same bunny-eared hoodie she wore last time she was here bouncing against her back. Tess ruffles Shel’s pink-streaked hair and then shields her eyes with one hand while she scans the yard.
I can tell exactly when Tess spots me. She freezes for a split-second, and then her face splits into a grin I can see even from all the way over here.
There’s nothing haunting abouthersmile. She doesn’t look creepy or strained; she looks like the moment the sun crested over the mountains out on the trail today, streaks of gold spreading like glowing filaments in the pre-dawn pink.
Radiant.
She looks radiant, standing there in some faded blue jeans and a clingy, army green long-sleeve tee while I’m still out here covered in sweat, dirt, and general horse stink.
I rock on the balls of my feet, hopingMamanwill burst out the front door and buy me some time, but she must not have heard the truck either.
Instead, Tess comes loping down to the barnyard, hands in her pockets and Shel skipping along at her heels.
