One of us was crazy, and I wasn’t sure who. No, I was the crazy one for agreeing to go with the whole scheme in the first place.
I grabbed a new egg, set it on my spoon, and went to work.
Branst meant every word of his threat. Every time he brought out a new horse for me, he made me work my way back up to the canter, and I broke every last egg he had trying to master the trot, although I did get to canter on all six of the horses he subjected to me.
I owed the patient animals; they didn’t try to buck me off despite being ordered to walk, trot, or canter in circles.
At the two-hour mark, he called the lesson to a halt, and as I hadn’t made it around with my egg intact at a canter, he ordered me to return the next day for another round.
I returned Morning Glory to her stall, taking the time to groom her and make sure she was settled before going home for some much needed sleep. Everything looked as I’d left it, but when I went into my bedroom, I discovered Jessica had been to my apartment, leaving a multi-page letter and a gift box on my pillow. The letter, which consisted of a three-page rant about her father’s idiocy, made me laugh. The reason for her rant depressed me; in what she considered as revenge for giving her guards the slip the last time she’d visited me, he was keeping her on a close leash.
In my head, I exchanged leash for handcuffs and the nearest solid surface, something I’d already seen the bastard do to contain his daughter.
She doubted she’d be able to come to meet my parents, but she’d still try—and she swore she’d find a way to keep in touch with me, even if she had to slip letters to me through the mail.
To make it clear she’d meant everything she’d said about pursuing me as a partner so she would at least have a say in who she married, she included a list of books she thought might help me move forward and have a better understanding of what would be expected of me.
The budget, which I’d already checked out of the library, topped the list. After, she’d included a list of books dealing with the branches of Royal magic, the R underlined to make it clear she meant business, and a website that covered modern politics.
I’d still visit my parents, I’d still cook like there’d be four even if Jessica didn’t show up, and when my parents questioned why I’d made extra, I’d split it three ways and tell them they deserved an indulgence sometimes. I wouldn’t even be lying when I told them I skimped more on eating than I should.
My schedule gave me little time to cook for myself, and while I ate at the office along with everyone else, I needed more hours in the day than I had to get everything done.
Maybe I’d cook enough to take home leftovers. That would save me some time, help ensure I ate better outside of work hours, and give me more time to focus on Jessica’s list. No one would notice an extra serving or two, although I’d be gambling that the gluttons would leave any food untouched. I could just give myself extra at dinner.
No one would mind.
The first of my princess-induced headaches kicked in, and I stared at the gift box, wondering what could possibly be inside. With a single letter, she’d turned my life upside down. I foresaw numerous migraines in my future as I tried to make sense of her world.
The only way I’d discover what was in the box was to open it. I peeled away the tape, revealing a white jewelry box. Cracking open the lid, I peeked inside.
A watch waited within, resting on a bed of black velvet, and its metal band gleamed in my bedroom’s light. Horses galloped around the face, and when I lifted it out of the box, the rearing horse of the Texas Royal Family decorated the back. When worn, no one would see the emblem, which relieved me.
To make it clear the watch was mine, my first and last name were etched above the emblem and Jessica’s decorated the bottom. A note accompanied the watch, consisting of a demand I wear it at all times, even when I showered, slept, or rode horses. Her note also promised it would survive almost anything, and if it broke, she’d take care of having it repaired.
What sort of crazy person wore a watch in the shower? I eyed the watch, shrugged, and decided I’d go with what the princess wanted. What did it hurt?
Well, beyond my wrist.
If I needed to take it off while I showered, I’d compromise and keep the watch in the shower with me. Sleeping with the watch on wouldn’t bother me much; I used to do it when I’d been younger and had a watch.
Why had I stopped wearing a watch? Ah, right. I’d broken it, decided it wasn’t worth the forty dollars to replace, and gotten used to either not having a watch or tracking time on the public transit system or at work.
Could I actually ride a horse while wearing a watch? Her note implied I could, so I’d give it a try. The band had enough flex I could scoot it up my wrist some if needed.
I could turn it into a pocket watch if the band broke putting it through its paces. That counted as keeping it with me at all times.
Laughing at myself, I wore the watch and fell asleep wondering what other changes Princess Jessica of Texas would bring to my life.
I settled into a routine, one that ended my day exhausted and began the next one ready to take a nap. Naps came few and far between, although I found some time to catch a few winks in Morning Glory’s stall between torture sessions Branst promised were actually riding lessons.
It took me until the day before I might get to see Jessica again to master the canter and how to hold my hand and arm to keep the damned egg on my spoon. The instant I reined in the poor horse stuck with me, Branst smiled.
When Branst smiled, I worried. “What are you up to?”
“A great deal, but this isn’t unusual. Go take Twister back to his stall. Hand him over to one of the hands. Crimson Sunset should be saddled for you and ready to go. I hope you like flying. You’re going to be learning how to jump, and there’s nothing Crimson Sunset loves more than when she gets to jump. In good news, she won’t balk on you, but if you don’t learn to stick to her like glue, you’re going to hit the sand higher than you can count. She’s also stubborn, so I sure hope you’re ready to rumble because she’s going to take you over jumps like it or not.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing for an inexperienced rider,” I muttered.
“Beats not getting your horse to jump and having no idea what you’re doing wrong. Crimson Sunset will give you a good feel of what it’s like to ride a jumper, and if you take to it, after I’ve gotten you more comfortable in the saddle, I’ll put you on a horse that won’t jump unless you do everything exactly right. I recommend you do as told, else you’ll have some nasty habits to unlearn, and trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to be unlearning any nasty habits.”
Having gotten a dose of breaking bad habits, I believed him. While Branst took hold of Morning Glory’s halter to keep her in the arena, I slid off Twister’s back and led him back to the stable. One of the younger stable hands, the son of an elite determined to have too much of an ego, mumbled something and took his reins. I wondered if Thomas would ever figure out he made his life so much more difficult worrying about someone like me rather than his work.
Then again, I was the only man present wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a choice I’d made to cover Jessica’s watch as often as possible to keep people from asking questions I couldn’t answer. So far, my efforts had worked.
Beyond a few compliments at work, no one had given the watch a second glance.
While I could’ve given Thomas a hard time like most others in the stable did, I went to Crimson Sunset’s stall to discover her saddled, bridled, and ready to go. She whinnied when she saw me, thrusting her head in my direction. Smiling, I rubbed her nose. “Ready for some jumping today?”
I’d always wondered how much English horses could learn. Crimson Sunset bobbed her head and whinnied, pushing her way out of her stall when I opened the door. When pulling at the reins didn’t earn her a faster trip to the arena, she stood still, twisting her ears back with a snort.
“Patience,” I scol
ded, careful to keep a firm grip on her reins while securing her stall door, careful to lock it as I’d been shown. A few troublemaking residents of the stable enjoyed escaping and, to drive the stablehands insane, they opted to take over empty stalls as a part of their mischief.
Crimson Sunset kept her mischief to her attempts to fly, a troublesome enough problem considering how often I rode her.
She followed me to the arena, and as soon as I secured the gate, Branst released Morning Glory, who bounded over to me, bucked, and kicked her heels in protest of my temporary disappearance.
“That’s not going to change anything,” I informed my filly, once again wondering how much she actually understood.
She snorted at me.
Snorting back at her startled her across the arena, and she bobbed her head while I rolled my eyes at my filly’s antics. “Why do I have a feeling she’s going to be as high strung as one of those thoroughbreds that jumps at shadows?”
“You’re observant, that’s why. Get your ass in the saddle. Now’s when you get to try all those little jumps scattered across the arena you’ve been eyeing when you hadn’t thought I’d notice.”
“I’d figured out they were for jumping. I just couldn’t figure out how to ask a horse to jump.”
“It’s simple.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s very simple in theory. It’s far more challenging in application. It’s a matter of giving your horse rein and encouraging her over. A squeeze of your legs and a change of seat will do. Remember how you learned to lean forward when you recognized Crimson Sunset was going to jump forward on you?”
It still amazed me the horse had a warning for every jump and buck she meant to do. “I do.”
“That’s how. She was teaching you how to jump while you thought you were learning how not to smack into the sand again.”
“She’s a menace.”
“But she’s a lovable menace,” Branst replied. “Stop complaining and get into the saddle. There’s a lot I want to teach you today, and we’re not going to get any of it done if you keep lazing about. I want you looking like you know what you’re doing in the saddle by the end of next week.”
“Why next week?”
“Mr. Hemmington is hosting an auction outside of town, and unless you luck out, you’re going to be invited.”
“Invited? As the cook?”
“No, as a rider—and a potential horse buyer. I was ordered to free up a stall, and when I heard which colt they’re wanting to give you, I decided you need all the help you can get. You’re going to need it.”
“That’s concerning,” I admitted.
“There’s a reason for that. You’re courting trouble with that horse, boy. I just hope you live to regret it. Just like his brother, that colt’s got mean eyes.”
“His brother?”
“That brute of a stallion Her Royal Highness rides. The colt they want to saddle you with is his brother, and I’m astonished they’ve let that demon live so long without sending him to market. There ain’t anyone that one likes nowadays. But that’s Mr. Hemmington for you. He sees a colt in trouble, and he sees you, a starved talent in need of horses. I just hope he knows what he’s doing. But lookin’ at your Morning Glory, I reckon they’re right to gamble. In the right hands, he could be great. Also, you’ll be wanting to change his name. Stops on a Dime just don’t suit that spirit. He’s not the kind to stop for anybody, let alone on a dime.”
“Is it too late to run away?” I muttered.
“Don’t you go wussing out on me now, boy. Get your ass in the saddle. It’s time to work.”
Chapter Fourteen
Princess Jessica of Texas had beaten me to my parents’ apartment, had charmed her way inside, and lounged on the couch without a care in the world. When I came in, she grinned and waved from her cushioned throne. “I escaped the jailers!”
My mother and father exchanged glances before staring at me. I couldn’t tell how my mother had lost the war over who’d get to ask their questions, but she braced for something.
Probably my execution.
“I’ll cook you dinner, Jessica, but you better have some cure for saddle sores. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to sit again,” I complained, dragging my bag of groceries to the kitchen. “In good news, through careful experimentation at work, I have figured out how to make my chicken almost as good in two hours rather than six, but my-six hour barbecue will always be superior.”
Jessica’s grin widened. “I’m good with the two-hour special, but I hope to enjoy your superior barbecue soon. Riding lessons go poorly?”
“My trainers have taken a complete leave of their senses. They’ve also seemed to conveniently forget I have multiple trainers, and they all expected extra rounds with me this week. They coerced me.” I plunked the chicken onto the counter, tore into the packages, and went to work preparing them for the spice rub so I could get them into the oven. “I should’ve asked what to do about these damned saddle sores. One of them warned me I might get them. He neglected to tell me what to do about them.”
“How bad?”
“I still have skin. Barely. It’s red, angry skin.”
“The pharmacy has cream specifically for it. It’s common here, so just go in, tell them you have saddle sores, and they’ll take care of you. Want me to run over and get some while you’re cooking? I saw a store right around the corner.”
“As long as your jailers won’t catch you, I’d appreciate that. I think they’re trying to kill me. Or wear holes in the saddles.”
Jessica laughed, bounced to her feet, and snagged her purse. “I’m so covered in dust not even my jailers would recognize me at this point.” She snagged a wide-brimmed cowboy hat from the coffee table and shoved it over her head. “I never wear hats. It might damage my hair, you know.”
“Of course.” I wondered how she could see anything at all. “Where’d you get that?”
She pointed at my father. “Apparently, it’s supposed to be yours, but he saw the other hat I was wearing and said this one would look better on me. I think he’s right.”
Ah. Every year, my father tried to get me some sort of birthday present despite my protests, and he’d discovered I couldn’t say no when he picked out a hat. This year’s hat suited me, black with a braided band decorated with metal feathers. “That hat’s going to look better on my head once you’re back from the pharmacy.”
She laughed. “We’ll just have to see about that, Pat. I’ll be back in ten. Time me!”
With the same force of a twister, she blew out the door, leaving my parents stunned in her wake.
I resumed preparing dinner, glancing at my watch to time her as she had asked.
My mother swallowed. “Pat?”
Yep, as I’d guessed, my mother had drawn the short straw to ask me about Jessica. “Yes, Mother?”
“She knocked on the door, asked if I was your mother, and when I said yes, she hugged me.”
While my mother enjoyed hugs, she likely expected an execution for being too familiar with a member of royalty. “Someone must have given her sugar earlier. Sugar isn’t typically in her diet, so it makes her rather rambunctious.”
“But she’s the princess.”
“I believe she enjoys when people pretend not to notice. Unless she asks you to call her a princess or some other obnoxious title, she’d like if you used her name. Just call her Jessica. Miss Jessica if you want to be polite, but don’t be surprised if she orders you to call her Jessica.”
My father chuckled. “She already has.”
“You’re handling this better than I expected,” I admitted.
“She’s been right friendly, but I reckon she’s keeping that hat. She’s been fiddling with it since I handed it to her.”
“Why did you hand it to her anyway?”
“She’d wrung her poor ball cap to death. I swear I’ve never seen such a nervous girl in my life, but she settled down once I gave her your hat
and asked her if she’d been to a rodeo today. After that, she just talked about her horse. Can’t say much about her beyond that, but that girl sure does love her horse.”
Texans. Add a horse to a conversation, and even enemies could be friends for a while. Shaking my head, I concentrated on starting dinner, sneaking peeks at my watch while waiting for Jessica to return.
Eight minutes later, she knocked, let herself in, and held up a bag. “Time?”
“Eight minutes,” I reported, fighting my urge to laugh at her antics. “Did someone give you sugar today?”
“I begged for cake out of a box, and I managed to offend everyone in the process. I got what I wanted, and while they were trying to recover from their disgust, I gave them the slip. I think they were waiting for me to turn my back so they could have some of the cake, those judgmental bastards. Anyway, the directions for using the creams are on the boxes, and I grabbed you some painkillers, too. You’ll need them while those heal, especially if they’re expecting you to get back in the saddle tomorrow.”
“Saturdays and Sundays mean I spend most of the evenings in lessons, and they draw lots to see who gets to pull an all nighter to make sure I cram in extra lessons. The horses are the only ones who love it. I had no idea horses liked being up late, but all of them are enjoying the evening rides.”
“Yeah. The troublemakers tend to pull most of their tricks at night,” Jessica replied, setting the bag on the coffee table and flopping onto the couch. “Are you making cake?”
“Against my better judgment, I’m making cake. We’re going to need to tether you to the floor. I’m going to be sending you home at the start of your second sugar bender of the day.”
“Good. Dad deserves it.”
At the rate I kept foreseeing trouble, I’d just default to there being trouble afoot to save myself the time and effort. “What did your father do now?”
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