Page 28 of Christmas at the Ranch
“Youarehelping her,” Charlie says, then pauses. “And—” Star nuzzles his shoulder and I wonder what he’s about to add.
But then, a voice at the arena door interrupts us. It’s a tall man in a cranberry-hued tuque greeting Charlie, who glances at his watch. “That would be the farrier,” he says to me, then calls out, “Good morning, Seb! Be right with you.”
Charlie waits while I dismount, then tells me we’ll talk later before he heads off in one direction and I in another, to untack Star and put her back in her stall. I set her up in crossties, remove her saddle and bridle, and lightly brush her, talking to her softly all the while. Before I return her to her stall, I pilfer a carrot from Kevin’s stash, promising I’ll find her some mints for next time as she crunches the carrot.
I’m walking out of the tack room when I hear voices in the aisle. I pull back into the shadows in time to see Tate walk past beside Mariella.
“It’s so great here,” Mariella says, her voice appealingly husky, in a just-rolled-out-of-bed sort of way. Then she lets out a happy little sigh, and I grimace. She’s sexyandadorable. “You’re so lucky, Tate, to get to ride out on those trails whenever you want.”
“You could ride out there whenever you want, too,” Tate says. “I mean…if you decide…”
What he says next is muffled by the sound of Kevin braying loudly, perhaps wise to the fact that one of his carrots is now missing. Delighted laughter from Mariella, and I suddenly feel so bitterly jealous I can practically taste it in my mouth. But then I’m startled from my thoughts by a sound. Tate has entered the tack room, carrying two bridles.
He jumps when he sees me. “Emory! I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Sorry,” I find myself saying, even though I’m not quite sure what I’m apologizing for. My existence? I turn away from him, pick up a sponge, and pretend to be scrubbing Star’s already clean bridle.
Behind me, Tate clears his throat. “You’re okay?” he says. “Absolutely positive nothing is hurt from the fall?”
“I’m fine,” I say, with more force than I intended. Then I turn to him. “Really,” I say more gently. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
But his amber eyes are clouded with concern, and now that my gaze has met his, I find I can’t look away.I wish I could suddenly develop mind-reading powers. His expression is a puzzle. He bites his lip, then lets out a long puff of air.
“Could you wait here a sec?” he asks. “There’s something I need you to do.”
He’s back within moments, holding a clipboard, which he hands to me.
“It’s a waiver,” he says.
It seems straightforward, just a document indemnifying the ranch of liability should I get hurt while riding here. But there’s more to it than that, and I know it. I look back up at him, not bothering to disguise the hurt I feel.
“You think I’d sue,” I say.
“Everyone who rides here has to sign one,” he says. “But Charlie always forgets. I have to protect the ranch.”
Every fiber of my being wants to protect the ranch, too. I love this place. But how do I say this to him when he never believed it before? He’s certainly not going to believe it now. I realize as I stare at his unreadable expression that he’s always expected the worst of me. Even ten years later, this hasn’t changed.
“Does she have to sign one?” I find myself asking.
“Who do you mean?” he says. I tilt my head toward the door, my heart feeling heavy.
“Oh. You mean Mariella.” He says her name gently, like the treasure he probably sees it as. “Well, that’s different,” he begins. “She—”
But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I can take it. “Forget it, please. It’s none of my business. I’ll just sign it.”
I take the pen and clipboard from him, sign my name, hand them both back. “All done.”
Our eyes meet again, but this time, there’s no destabilizing sensation of cosmic connection I thought was there last night. Those rum drinks must have been stronger than I thought. Now his stare is completely blank.All done.
“Goodbye, Tate.”
I walk out of the tack room, head down the stable aisle as fast as I can, past Mariella, who I try not to look at, but then can’t stop myself. She’s even more beautiful up close, and her laugh as she hands Kevin a carrot is like a Christmas Eve church bell.
I’m almost out the stable door when I stop walking and turn. Star is standing at her stall door, watching me leave, nickering softly, as if calling me back. But Star is not my horse. She belongs to Tate, to Charlie. Earlier, Charlie asked me to help with Star—and I said yes. But I can’t do this anymore.
“Goodbye, Star,” I say, and she snorts at me, then retreats to the back of her stall.
I turn away and begin to walk, each step away deepening the ache in my heart that I desperately need to find a way to heal. But healing is not going to happen for me at Wilder Ranch. This place has only ever hurt me. I need to walk away and leave all my memories, the good and the bad, exactly where they began.
