Page 27 of Christmas at the Ranch
“But it’s not,” Tate says, sounding agonized. More like the teenager I remember than the man he’s become. “Dad, did you even tell her?”
“Tell me what?”
Charlie clears his throat. “Star got hurt this summer,” he says. “Spooked by a coyote during a trail ride, stumbled and cut her leg. Even though it didn’t take much time to rehab the injury, it affected her. Sometimes horses who are born prematurely carry it with them—an inability to let things go, I guess you could say. A problem with processing. She hadn’t been taking well to being ridden, especially outdoors—and I wondered if you might be the solution. I didn’t want to tell you about the issues she’d been having because it would have just added to your nerves. Which wouldn’t have been good for either of you.”
“And you think Emory getting tossed into a snowbank was good for anyone? You’re a great horse trainer, Dad, but I just don’t think this was the right call.”
Charlie sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry, son. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but it wasn’t. Not at all.”
There’s something in the air all around us that feels charged, fraught. I’ve never seen Tate and Charlie at odds, and I hate that I’m the reason.
“I wasn’t paying attention the way I should have been,” I say. “I got distracted. I let her down. It was me.”
But Tate shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have been riding her in the first place.”
Charlie turns to his son. “Mariella is waiting for you. You should get back to her.”
Mariella. It’s a pretty name that matches her perfectly. Tate looks at her, all flustered, showing me that Mariella and I being here at the same time is not what he wants at all.
“It’s fine,” Charlie says. “Emory and I will go into the arena and she’ll get back on Star for a few minutes. Right, Emory?”
The idea makes me nervous, but I know he’s right to ask it of me. The saying is true: You really do need to get back on the horse—both for your own confidence and for the horse’s training. Because a horse who is untacked and put back in her paddock or stall to eat, play, or rest after a rider has been thrown off will do so again to get out of working. Soon, the horse won’t be rideable at all.
“Of course,” I say. “Anything for Star.”
For a moment, I actually think Tate might argue with Charlie, with me, about my getting back on Star—but he doesn’t.
He just says to Charlie, under his breath, “Make sure she’s really okay, please. That they both are.”
Then he walks away, toward the beautiful woman waiting for him.
Mariella, with her blond braid shining in the sunlight, her blue eyes bright with an anticipation I know all too well.
Twelve
“Feeling good up there? Nothing hurts?”
“Only thing that’s wounded is my pride,” I say to Charlie, my new refrain. But that’s not quite true. In addition to my sore backside, which will definitely bruise, there’s a dull pain in my chest I know isn’t related to the fall.
I’m worried about Star—and about Tate, too.
“At least she had the good grace to dump you off in a snowbank, though. She’s a lovely girl at heart, just dealing with some stuff.”
“Aren’t we all,” I mutter.
I try to focus on finishing off my ride, making sure Star knows tossing riders off will not be tolerated, building back my own confidence, for whatever that’s going to be worth. As Star and I walk around the arena track, I pat her shoulder, say her name, tell her what a good girl she is.
She slows, then stops at a window and looks out, lets out a sigh before lowering her head.
“You know you can do it, right?”
She tosses her head, stamps one foot, as though she’s understood me. My heart aches for her, and I wish I knew how to help.
Charlie approaches. “You’re right,” he says. “Shecando it.” He looks up at me. “Tate’s not going to like this, but I think you two should keep trying.”
Tate’s not going to like this. I wonder why but can’t ask. And maybe I don’t have to wonder. Maybe I just need to accept the truth. Tate is fine, living his life, helping his dad run the ranch, spending time with his gorgeous girlfriend, Mariella. He never expected to see me and definitely does not want me here.
Except Iamhere. And Star needs help. “If you want me to try again with her, of course I will. I’m not afraid,” I say. “I just want to help her.”
