Of course, the name Dark Horse had been symbolic of the person who’d given him to me. A dark name for a light horse, Conn had said back when I’d told him what I’d named the horse. That might have been true for the horse, but it wasn’t true for Conn, as much as I’d hoped it would become so.
“I left you with Conn in the library, and Conn has a way of getting his hooks into you.” Chance stopped and let out a loud exhale. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. What I mean was—”
“No, what you said was right on. Conn has always known how to get his hooks into me so that when and if I tried to get away, all he had to do was reel me back in.” I rested my hand on Dark Horse’s muzzle, and he bounced his head, his “subtle” way of telling me he wanted me to scratch it. “That was something I figured out when I left. Something that took me a while to understand. Something I won’t forget now that I’m back in the same house as him.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then.” Chance adjusted the reins on Honor’s bridle then glanced at me.
“Does it?” I whispered, staring into Dark Horse’s eyes and remembering that night Conn had given him to me, as if he wasn’t the best gift in the world given by the best person in it. Conn had moments when a person could wonder if he was the most generous, kind person on the planet, but they had to fight through a maze of thorns to get to those few-and-far-between moments. “Because there were a few times last night when he looked at me and I wasn’t the woman I am now, but the girl I was then, and I swear if Conn had asked me to saw off my pinkie with a butter knife, I would have done it.” The rustling and movement of Chance getting Honor ready went silent. When he didn’t say anything, I turned around. “I’m sorry. Too early to be talking about my Conn insecurities resurrecting themselves.”
Chance’s back was to me. His thick tan canvas jacket swallowed him from the hips up, but even through that, I could tell his shoulders were tense. “If that’s the way he can make you feel when he looks at you, then don’t look at him.”
“Probably not a realistic option given we’re under the same roof.” If it were that easy, my Conn problems might not be so hard.
“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is that when you look at him, don’t see the Conn you remember as you were. Instead, see the Conn he is today as you are now. Don’t let memories and nostalgia skew what you’re seeing.” Chance went back to making the last few adjustments on Honor’s tack.
“I thought you were the one person in the world who was on Conn’s side no matter what, through thick and thin.” When Dark Horse’s gentle nudges turned a bit bossier, I relented and got back to scratching his nose. He was a persistent thing.
“I am that person. But I’m on your side too, and from what I’ve seen you two do to each other for so many years, I wonder if you’re both just better off leaving each other alone unless it’s saying a quick hi or good-bye. You’ve done enough damage to each other—just be done with it all. Don’t pick up right where you guys left off.” Chance turned to face me slowly, his face pulled up in a way that made me guess he was waiting for me to fire something back at him.
Instead of yelling at him as he expected, my voice came out barely a whisper. “How can you say I hurt him like he hurt me? How can you imply what he did to me was equal to anything I ever could have done to him?” I grabbed Dark Horse’s reins and approached Chance. I knew disbelief was written on every plane of my face.
“I’m not discrediting what Conn did to you, the games he played and the way he led you along one minute only to give you the cold shoulder the next. I’m not saying he’s blameless.” Chance shook his head, seeming afraid to look me in the eyes. “But neither are you, Scout. You knew how damaged he was, and you still played his games. You knew how he felt about you, and you did your share of pushing him away when he got too close. You both hurt each other. It’s a pattern in your history—don’t make it a pattern in your future.”
The barn was a huge, vast space, but I felt the walls shrinking in around me, the roof pressing down on my head. There was no air left to breathe. “I hear what you’re saying, and you know how much I appreciate your input and advice.” I swallowed, trying to shake the feeling that I was moments away from gasping for air. “But can we not talk about Conn? Can we just ride and laugh and talk like neither one of us has a single care in the world? Can we just pretend life is perfect for one morning?”
Chance inclined his head toward the barn doors before leading Honor through them. I followed him, leading Dark Horse into the still, dark morning. Once we were outside, Chance waited for me to mount. After I was settled in the saddle, his eyes found mine. The lightness I’d been missing in the barn was in them again. My shoulders sagged with relief. I wasn’t used to dealing with a brooding Chance who argued circles around me. I’d had enough of that from his brother.
Chance stroked Honor’s muzzle, his words flowing from him like he’d been rehearsing them for a lifetime. “I don’t want to spend any time talking about you and Conn in that way. You and I both know we’ve spent enough time talking about it before, and if I never again have to wrap my arm around a miserable Scout because Conn said or did something to hurt her, I’ll be good. When you left and didn’t come back for all those years, I knew why. It didn’t make it easier or make my missing you go away, but I knew you were doing what you had to to put as much physical and emotional space between you and Conn as possible. So why, after all that, would you come back and let him weave his web around you when you’ve barely been here for twelve hours?” Chance leaned his forehead into Honor’s nose. The horse seemed as comfortable with the touch as he was having with Chance on his back. “Don’t make those seven years count for nothing. Don’t let them be a waste now that Conn’s within arm’s reach and already trying to mess with your head. You’re stronger than that, not to mention smarter than that. You left to stay away from him—now that you’re back, do the same.”
Chance had summed up in a handful of sentences what it had taken me years to figure out. It wasn’t the happiest realization I’d ever stumbled upon. “I can’t keep my distance—”
“Physically, no, you can’t.” Chance shook his head. “But you can keep those other distances from him. What you and I know are the important distances.”
I rolled my head from side to side. I hadn’t realized showing up for a morning ride meant getting schooled on Conn by Chance. “Listen, I know you’re right. I know it. But knowing what’s right and doing what’s right are two such different things. I’ve done them wrong my whole life. I want to keep my distance from Conn in those important ways, but the only way I could figure out how to do it was by moving a few states away.” I couldn’t seem to look Chance in the eye while we discussed Conn. We’d never had a problem with that before, but it seemed that had changed. “I want to believe I can keep him out . . . keep him from fucking me up all over again . . . but I’m not sure I know how. My record and history show otherwise.”
Chance was quiet after that. When he finally removed his forehead from Honor’s nose, I saw the easy smile back on his face. “Good thing I’ve got faith in you then.”
I huffed so loudly Dark Horse flinched. “You’re the only one.”
“If I was the only one, I think we both know you wouldn’t have come back. Even knowing John was reaching the end,” Chance added when I opened my mouth. “If you didn’t have faith in yourself that you could do this, you would have found some excuse to keep away for another seven years.”
I dropped a hand to my hip. “I’ve been in school for seven years. Jerk.”
Chance chuckled at the term of endearment. “Exactly. Totally weak excuse.”
I shook my head as I zipped up my jacket and made sure the Thermos was safely tucked inside. “Are you done now? Can we get on with pretending to have a perfect morning?”
“Who says we have to pretend? This morning is a perfect morning.” Lifting the collar of his jacket to protect his neck, he climbed onto Honor, gathered the
reins, and walked him toward the east end of the property.
This was my favorite direction to go because it led away from the mountain, and this time of year, acres upon acres of wild flowers were sprouting up, creating a blanket of color and texture that consumed the valleys. I eased Dark Horse beside Honor. They fell in line next to each other easily, having gone on countless rides together back before I’d left.
“The only thing perfect about this morning is that I brought coffee,” I teased.
“Well, that, and my hair this morning.” Chance lifted his hat, revealing a head of hair that wasn’t yet matted due to long hours and sweat. Already a dent circled just above his ears where his hat hugged his head.
“Perfect might be a stretch.” I smiled at that dent. I’d forgotten all about it. No matter if Chance had just come from the shower or taken a comb to his hair, that dent seemed to be permanently embedded.
“Let’s see whose hair’s perfect at the end of the morning.” Chance’s eyes flicked to the stocking cap on my head. “I predict a rat’s nest when you take that off. You?”
I kicked his boot with mine. “I predict shiny, loose waves that tumble down my back without a hair out of place.”
Chance snorted, earning another kick. My hair and Chance’s were so alike, if he grew his out, it would probably look eerily similar to mine. That was something Conn had noticed right off the bat and had never missed an opportunity to tease us about.
“So, Shiny Locks, how long’s it been since you’ve been on a horse?” Chance asked.
I bit my lip as we rounded one of the holding pens. “Honestly?”
Chance lifted a brow. “I’m the brother who does the whole honest, truthful thing. Remember?”
I lifted my eyes to the sky. There was no easy way to put it. “It’s been about seven years since I rode last.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Chance’s mouth drop.
“I’m not sure whether to weep or be outraged,” he said, sounding more appalled than anything. “I thought you’ve been in vet school, specializing in large animals.”
“I’ve been around them and learning how to treat and fix them, not taking them out for joyrides.”
Chance reined Honor to a stop, so I did the same with Dark Horse. “Then you’ve got seven years of joyrides to catch up on.”
I popped the collar on my coat too, anticipating what that spark in Chance’s eyes meant. It always preceded some kind of adventure. “Better make it a good one then.”
“Planning on it.” Honor’s hooves stomped the ground, anticipating what was coming. Chance looked at me, inspecting me on Dark Horse as though he wasn’t sure what he was seeing was real. “Seven years without being on a horse. That’s like committing high treason out here. Do you remember what a trot is? How to stay in the saddle without gripping the saddle horn for dear life?”
I rolled my eyes as I tightened the reins. Dark Horse quivered in anticipation. “Try to keep up, cowboy.” When I squeezed Dark Horse’s sides, he burst forward into a breakneck gallop before Chance realized we’d taken off.
Somehow I heard Chance’s tongue cluck, followed by Honor’s sharp whinny, and I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up. Dark Horse was a spry, fast little thing, but he was just barely fourteen hands. Compared to Honor’s sixteen, his little legs couldn’t outrun Honor for long.
What had been cool morning air back at the barn turned into frigid shafts cutting across my face, doing a better job of waking me up than an entire Thermos of strong coffee. I felt my heartbeat in my ears as adrenaline dripped into my veins as Dark Horse tore across the land. His hooves pounded the ground, seeming capable of waking it from its millions of years of slumber.
There was something primal about riding a horse, something that made life and all its complexities fade away until it seemed possible to leave one’s problems and worries far behind. It had been seven years since I’d been on a horse . . . and it had been seven years too long. I wouldn’t let that much time go by again.
Chance and Honor eventually caught up, but either Dark Horse had really been tearing it up at an unholy pace or Chance had guessed I wanted a few minutes alone with nothing but the thrill of living for and in the moment to keep me company. When he did fall in beside me a couple miles later, I felt as though I’d just gone through a couple years of intensive therapy. I felt free and alive and like no problem was bigger than my resolve to tackle it. There was no fear in my life more intimidating than my ability to squash it.
“It took me a while to get here,” he hollered, his smile as wide as I’d ever seen it.
I returned his smile, letting Dark Horse take me to a place of peace I’d been sure I’d never find in this lifetime. “It took me a while too.”
IF THERE WAS such a thing as reincarnation, I wanted to spend my next life as a horse. Not just any horse, though—a wild one. The kind that still traveled in a herd and had no one to tell him where to go or when to go or how to go. I wanted to be driven by instinct and survival and let every other whim or consideration become a distant second to those basic needs. I wanted to feel the soft ground beneath me, feel the sun warm my back in the summers, and feel a crust of snow cover me in the winter. I craved the simplicity that only an animal’s life could provide. I’d lived enough complexity and confusion to last my next ten lifetimes.
“Beautiful, right?” Chance stopped beside me, his cheeks flushed from the ride.
My breathing was more labored than his, but since neither of us had done much of the work to get us there, we shouldn’t have been breathing hard. But at least for me, the short pulls of breath came from a place of excitement, not exertion.
Dark Horse’s and Honor’s breaths steamed up the air around us, their chests and necks frothy with sweat. From where we were perched on a bluff, we had a perfect viewing spot of the herd meandering through the valley. This was the mare herd, and it was, I guessed, close to two thousand large. Every color in the horse world was represented, creating a vibrant quilt that undulated through the valley.
“Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing it,” I answered him at last, watching the herd move as if they were all of one mind.
“My feelings exactly.” While I stared at the herd, I felt Chance’s stare aimed at me. “And the mustangs aren’t bad either.”
For some reason, I felt a flush of heat settle behind my cheeks. I did my best to ignore it. “If that’s your attempt to make up for the controversial topic you brought up earlier, you’d better keep the flattery coming.”
His stare didn’t falter. “That wasn’t an attempt to make anything up to you, nor was it flattery.”
“Then what was it?”
I noticed the steam roll from his mouth as he answered, “The truth.”
“That’s right. You’re the truth guy.” I tipped my head toward the herd, wanting a distraction from the way he was watching me. Or maybe the distraction I craved wasn’t due to Chance’s stare but the way that stare made me feel. “Is it okay if we ride closer? Will they let us wander around without starting a stampede?”
He popped his shoulders. “Probably.”
“Your confidence is astounding,” I said dryly.
He adjusted his insulated calfskin gloves, smiling. “That’s the truth, though. The herds are used to riders checking in regularly, so they probably won’t stampede, but that doesn’t mean they won’t stampede. You know horses—a baby gopher might peek out of its hole and send the whole herd into a frenzy.”
“So many warm fuzzies happening right now.” I stroked Dark Horse’s neck, smiling as he looked at the herd in the same way I had—with longing. Dark Horse hadn’t been taken from this herd, but it seemed pretty obvious that he remembered what it had been like to be a member of one. His hooves stomped at the earth.
“So what if they do stampede?” Chance asked after a loud yawn, reminding me of the Thermos warming my core.
“Then we risk being thrown from our horses and trampled by eight thousand hooves
?”
“Yeah, but is the small risk of death worth exchanging living life for?” he said, admiring the herd.
I knew “true” cowboys were supposed to be cattlemen first and foremost, but even though Chance had never admitted it, I didn’t doubt he was more of a horseman. If that led someone to think of him as a second-rate cowboy, then I’d challenge them to show up every pre-crack of dawn to witness Chance already on his second cup of coffee and third task on his daily checklist and have them stay until the sun had gone down and he was still crossing items off his list. Chance Armstrong had been born into a life of privilege—a life few of us would ever get to experience—but his work ethic was unparalleled. He often took the chores even the hired hands weren’t eager to tackle.
I’d admired Chance as a friend for so long I’d forgotten that he was a man. But ever since I’d shown up last night, I’d been reminded of that fact every time I’d caught him looking at me when he didn’t think I was paying attention . . . or when I looked at him when I thought he wasn’t paying attention.
“I’m guessing you’ve managed to weave some little life lesson into ranch life again, but while I consider what that is, are you up for the fractional risk of being trampled today?” I’d already nudged Dark Horse forward when Chance answered—by following me.
“In my world, getting trampled is a daily risk. Kind of a work-place hazard,” he said.
The ground the horses were covering was rocky, and their hooves clinked with every step. It was a beautiful sound. I’d missed this place. As convinced as I’d been that I had no reason to return to Red Mountain, all it had taken was one horseback ride to remind me why I’d fallen in love with that wild land. My memories of the people there might have tainted how I remembered this place, but my experiences towered over the bad memories. I’d just needed a little memory reboot to focus on those experiences. Chance and Dark Horse and the Beta herd and the chill of an early morning had unleashed the memory floodgates.
I’d let one person and the memories of him keep me from this place for seven years. I’d never make that mistake again.