by Jane Josephs
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Alison countered, barely keeping the anger out of her voice, “once I see what you have to offer.”
They covered the short distance to the barn, a large, galvanized steel structure with a side entrance that led out to the riding ring. The smell of manure mixed with straw emanated from a wheelbarrow sitting near the barn door. Alison wrinkled her nose.
Richie noticed and apologized. “Sorry. You’ll get used to that smell. Nick will take the wheelbarrow out to the compost pile in a minute.”
“Is he in the barn?” Alison asked, glancing around the barn’s interior. Stalls, some with the top portion of their doors open, lined a middle corridor. Sliding doors at either end of the barn let in the sunshine and a cool breeze.
Richie looped Max’s reins through a ring hanging next to a stall door. “Sounds like he’s down this way. Our tack room is at the end.”
Outside the back door of the barn, several horses stood in a large, fenced paddock.
Nick appeared at the entrance to a stall, a pitchfork in his hand, his shirt dotted with patches of perspiration. “Alison!” He looked her up and down, his displeasure apparent. His eyes drilled into her. “I don’t believe this. So, you’re the one Ma mentioned this morning. You want to learn to ride a horse.”
Alison’s chin shot up. “Unlike you, your mother was very accommodating on the phone. I arranged for sixteen riding lessons, bought and paid for in advance.” She glanced at Richie but scowled at Nick. “Apparently with your brother.” Making no effort to hide her anger, she shoved her hands in her pockets. “Although your mother assured me that you would be giving the lessons. Not that I care. Really.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. “Just what kind of song and dance did you give Ma? We don’t give lessons here. And there’s no way that you get to say who gives them. Richie’s available today. I’m not. Maybe next week I’ll be free, if you make it through today. Put her on Mae, Richie.” He turned back to his work.
Alison glared at Nick’s back, grinding her teeth, so she wouldn’t scream. Then abruptly, she turned to Richie with a bright smile. “I think I got the best deal after all, with you teaching me, Richie. Can I see those saddles now?”
“Sure, sure,” Richie said, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Right this way.”
~ ~ ~
Hiding her disappointment, Alison pretended interest in a shiny black saddle with intricate scrollwork and silver trim that sat straddling a bar in the tack room. For Richie’s sake, and to show Nick she could get through the lesson, she was determined to stick it out and ride whatever horse Richie put her on. She had taken down the blog post, hadn’t she? Why was he punishing her by pawning her off on his brother? Not that Richie wasn’t a dream any woman would enjoy spending time with. He had thick hair, almost as dark as Nick’s, brilliant blue eyes, a tall, lanky body, and an easy-going manner that shouted, Let’s party! If she wasn’t so enamored with Nick, she could have some real fun with Richie. Maybe she still would. Alison turned, flashing Richie her most charming smile. Did Nick really think he had bested her? “The black one is perfect. Is there a black horse to match it?”
“And a bridle,” Richie said, taking a black bridle off a hook on the wall adjacent to the saddles. “The saddle was my dad’s. He used it when we rode in parades.”
Alison’s stomach plummeted, immediately regretting her cavalier attitude. “Oh, Richie, I’m so sorry. I think your mom told me that he died last year, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, a heart attack.” He shrugged and nodded emphatically. “He’d want to see his saddle on a horse again. Especially if it meant someone was learning to ride. But Dotty, his horse, well, she’s black, but she’s pregnant, so you get to ride a mare we named Misty Mae. She’s an Appaloosa.”
“She’ll be perfect,” Alison said, her hand stroking down Richie’s arm in apology. “Give me the bridle and you can get the saddle. You’re sure it’s okay to use your dad’s things?”
Richie handed her the bridle and crossed the room to get the saddle and a pad for under the saddle. “I’m sure Dad would love that.”
Together they went out of the tack room and walked toward Max. Nick had disappeared, leaving behind fresh straw in the stall he had been cleaning. The wheelbarrow of manure had disappeared, too. A black horse, its rump covered with gray, black, and white spots, stood next to Max.
Richie put the saddle on the ground and smoothed his hand down the horse’s neck and over her back.
Alison kept her distance, anxious to get started but dreading it, too. What if she fell off like she had the only other time she’d been on a horse? Keep calm, Ali. Mom is a hundred miles away and can’t scream at my instructor this time. She sighed. “Oh, Richie. This horse is beautiful. She’s an Appaloosa, did you say?” She stepped closer and handed him the bridle.
Richie nodded. “Yeah. It’s a breed of horses known for these spotted coats. She rides like a dream. Don’t you, girl?” He patted her neck. “And she’s one of the best Quarter Horses in the area. We call her Mae.” He grinned. “And sometimes Nick calls her Mae West. She’s not blond but she’s a . . . well, you know, . . . frisky.” He grinned. “So, let’s get started.”
“Oh, I know all about Mae West, I assure you.” Alison spat out, thinking of Nick’s not-so-subtle choice of horses for her. Of all the horses he owned, he wanted her to ride a mare he’d nicknamed after a Hollywood sex symbol from the ‘30s. To remind her of what she’d written about him? Shouldn’t he be over his anger by now?
“Alison?”
Snapping out of her musings, Alison turned to Richie. “Okay, I’m ready. I can do this. I know I can.”
Guiding her to stand next to Mae’s head, Richie began the first lesson—how to bridle a horse. “Wait till you get on her and ride. You’re going to love it. I guarantee it.”
“Or my money back, right?”
~ ~ ~
Skip Poulter’s home had seen better days, but the old man lived on Social Security now, so the place wasn’t likely to look better any time soon. Nick parked beside Skip’s old Jeep and lifted his chain saw and a can of gasoline out of his truck bed, impatient to get the job done and get back to see how Alison’s first lesson was going. He hadn’t intended for Richie to give the new rider the lesson today, but when Skip called at 7:00 this morning, he’d had no choice. Skip hated Richie. Used any excuse he could find to complain about him and wouldn’t allow him on his property because Richie pranked him last Halloween and nearly frightened him to death. On one hand, Nick could understand the old man’s anger. On the other, it made him see red any time he heard his brother’s name maligned.
Nick walked around to the back of the house, his thoughts shifting to Alison. She puzzled him. One minute, compassionate as she’d been with Eddie and Emma. The next, using him without a second thought, apparently. Even so, guilt ate at him for losing his temper in the barn. He thought he’d forgiven her, especially after he found she’d taken down the post about him. But his good intentions had flown out the window in the face of her anger. How could he even think of trusting her again?
Nick shook his head, disgusted with himself for unintentionally using his brother to get back at her. Underneath her anger, he thought he’d seen a glimmer of hurt. Why had Ma agreed to give her sixteen horseback riding lessons in the first place? Why did she want them? To learn to ride? Or to torture him? He shook his head, acknowledging that he had no answers. How could he be with her if he couldn’t control his temper and curb his distrust? Or worse, how would he survive if he couldn’t put aside his attraction to her?
“You finally made it,” Skip growled, shuffling over to Nick in bedroom slippers that had holes in the toes.
“I told you I . . .” Nick shifted gears, reminding himself to show some respect to the old man. He pointed the chain saw toward the back of Skip’s property.
“The tree’s already down, right?”
“Yeah. And it’s on my place, not yours.”
Annoyed at the old man’s gruffness and lack of gratitude for helping him, Nick said, “If it’s growing on our land, but it fell on yours, it’s yours. We have plenty of wood at our place anyway.” He started for the tree line. “Get your wheelbarrow, and I’ll be back for it once I get the wood cut.”
~ ~ ~
Ginny Reid stepped out onto the veranda and gazed at their riding ring in the distance. Richie had his eyes glued on the girl, Alison, patiently walking his horse beside Mae while she got used to working the reins. The timer went off on the first batch of chocolate chip cookies Ginny had put in the oven. Four dozen more to bake, and then she wanted to meet the girl who made Nick so uncomfortable, for some reason. He’d stomped back in the house after finishing his chores in the barn, livid that she’d agreed to have him give Alison riding lessons without asking him first. Ginny swallowed hard. It had been wrong of her not to ask him, but truthfully, she’d just forgotten. Alison had only called on Thursday. And hadn’t she said she knew Nick? She would ask her son’s forgiveness later. But for now, Richie seemed fine with the task. Ginny shook her head and turned to get the cookies out of the oven. Just who was this woman who rattled her son and caused him to avoid his mother’s eyes when he said her name?
~ ~ ~
“Is this the fastest we’re going to go, Richie?” Alison shifted in the saddle. After riding on a well-worn dirt road across the field behind the barn, they had entered the woods. The trail had been interesting at first, but Alison was beginning to be bored. “I mean, I think I’ve got the hang of it.”
“You’re doing great. But, all in good time. You have to walk before you can run. And you need to learn how to trot and canter on Mae before you get to gallop.” Richie grinned. “I feel for you, really I do. Trail rides are not my favorite thing. Give me a full-out gallop and a good race any day.”
Alison sighed, irritated with Nick all over again. He’d probably told Richie to make the ride as boring as possible. “That’s what you were doing when I got here. Galloping, right?”
“Yeah. I was practicing barrel racing. It starts and ends with galloping. But the trick is to get around the barrel as fast and as close to it as possible— and then get back to the starting line. It’s a timed race. And there are penalties if you knock over the barrel.”
“It looked like fun. Do you think I could try it?”
“Maybe, but not today for sure. But someday. If you keep coming to ride. Mae’s great at barrel racing. All our horses are. It’s part of their training.”
“Speaking of training,” Alison said, “do you train or board horses for other people? Like, if I wanted to buy a horse? And keep it here? It looks to me as if you have more stalls than you have horses.”
“Yeah, we have more stalls than we need right now. When I was little we boarded a few horses, but just until we were able to buy our own stock. We used to have ten horses, but when Dad died, we sold five of them. Nick’s on base all day, so there’s no way Mom and I could keep up with the work needed for ten. But it was hard seeing them go. Like losing Dad all over again each time we walked one up the ramp of a horse trailer and watched it be driven away.”
Alison’s heart broke for him. “Ah, Richie. That had to be really tough.”
Richie nodded and fell silent. A minute later, he pointed to a spot in the woods. “That’s our campfire ring over there. With the threat of wildfires in this area, we don’t use it a whole lot. But it’s fun, especially at Halloween when we decorate the woods with ghosts and goblins and throw a big party.”
Alison laughed. “You definitely strike me as the kind of guy made for the party life.”
Richie chuckled. “Yeah, that’s me. I like a fun time. The crazier, the better.”
~ ~ ~
Nick pulled into the driveway as Alison came down the sidewalk from the house. He glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock already. Had Richie kept her riding all this time? Then he noticed a half-carton of brown eggs and a plate of cookies in Alison’s hands.
Determined to be nice, Nick got out of his truck and met Alison at her car door. “I see you met my mother.”
“Yes, she was kind enough to feed me and send me home well supplied.”
“How was your ride?”
Alison cocked her head. “I hear you call my horse Mae West? Seriously?”
“Only when she’s acting up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that. All Richie would allow me to do is sit there in the saddle while the horses walked around your property. Booooring.”
“You don’t have to come back, you know? You asked for lessons. All I wanted was the post taken down.”
Alison bristled. “I guess that’s your way of saying you never want to see me again.” She shifted the eggs and cookies to one hand and wrenched open her car door. “Well, I get it.”
Nick grabbed for the eggs and cookies, taking them from her. “No. That’s not what I meant.” He sucked in a deep breath, biting off the apology that wanted to escape. “Why’d you want horseback riding lessons anyway?”
Alison shrugged. “I’ve just always loved horses, that’s all.” She sighed. “Okay. That’s not all. I fell off a horse once and never got the chance to get back on.”
“Were you seriously hurt?”
“Just had the wind knocked out of me. But my mom freaked, so I didn’t get to go back. Now let me ask you a question.” She brushed her hair back from her face and stared up at him. “Why’d you pawn me off on your brother today?”
Nick swallowed hard. Was she really as hurt as she seemed? “It just worked out that way. Our neighbor’s ninety-two. One of the trees on our property fell on his. He doesn’t get along with Richie, so I didn’t have a choice unless I want him to freeze.”
“Sure. Right.” She held out her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s seventy degrees.”
“But it gets down to the forties at night.”
“Okay. Whatever. What about next week? Will you be my teacher?”
Nick’s breath caught. Why couldn’t he say no? “Yeah, I promise.”
“Then good. I’ll be here.” Alison nodded, took back the gifts Ginny had given her, and got in her car.
Nick shut her car door and stepped back, conscious of how perfect Alison looked in her classy convertible. The quintessential city girl. “But, just so you know, it may still be boring.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “I don’t think so.”
He stepped back and watched her go. But his heart wouldn’t stop pounding out a beat that spelled trouble with a capital T.
Chapter 7
The veranda furniture was old and shabby. Rather than risk getting poked in the butt by a broken cushion spring, Nick stood at the edge of the covered porch looking out at the horses while he drank his coffee. Alison, he hoped, was on her way. He’d cleaned the stalls at 6:00 this morning to make sure he had time to shower and eat breakfast before she arrived. Now, that same breakfast was threatening to betray him. Why am I so nervous? It’s a lesson, not a date.
The sliding glass door opened behind him and he turned.
“Is Alison coming today?” Richie asked.
“Far as I know,” Nick said, and took a drink of his coffee.
“I wouldn’t mind working with her again,” Richie said, his eyes lighting up. “She’s easy to be with. And not bad on the eyes either.” Richie cocked his head. “Classy, you know? She asked me if we ever board horses—like if she bought one and wanted to keep it here. Which would be way cool. I mean, she’s hot.” Richie looked away, his embarrassment plain to see. He cleared his throat. “And she’s not scared to try new things. She wants to learn how to barrel race, and I’m going to teach her.”
�
�What?” Nick said, “I don’t think so.”
Richie bristled at Nick’s tone. “Why not? After all, she sure wasn’t too happy with you last week.”
“Just a misunderstanding. We got it straightened out, so I’ll be doing the teaching today.”
Richie scoffed. “Yeah, I figured you’d take over. How many lessons did Ma agree to anyway? I hope you got Alison to sign a waiver. I mean, if she gets hurt, or falls off Mae or something, she could sue us. You saw the car she drives. A convertible BMW!”
Nick tossed the rest of his coffee on the grass with a snap of his wrist. His tone sharp, he demanded, “Back off, Richie. I’ll handle it.”
His hands fisted at his sides, Richie glared at Nick. “Yeah. You’ll handle it. Like you handled selling off most of our horses last year. You’re a jerk, Nick, you know that? It’s always about what you want. Well, Alison likes me. And she told me she’d go riding with me any time. So, look out, Nick. I’m gonna take her up on that offer. And we’ll just see who she wants to give her riding lessons.” Richie stomped back into the house.
Nick grimaced at the hostility and anger emanating from Richie. Why couldn’t his little brother show him some respect? His words cut deep, especially the accusation about Nick selling the horses. Why couldn’t Richie understand that it had hurt him, too, to have to do it? But with Dad gone, there had been no way to keep all ten horses unless they hired help. Ma had considered using Dad’s savings to hire a part-time stable hand, initially. But Nick had talked her out of it, knowing that the savings and the little insurance money Dad had left her would be needed to pay off the mortgage on the house and barn, make the repairs that Dad had let go while he nurtured his love of Quarter Horses, and at least partially fund college for Richie. He hadn’t consulted his brother. Hadn’t figured it would matter to him. He’d been dead wrong, the memory of Richie’s tears washing over him anew. The mistake had cost him. Was still costing him.