Everything Girl

by Emily Mayer

  Standing by one of the far walls was Jack, his hands full of rope. Too busy to acknowledge me, apparently. I stepped a little farther into the room, reaching out my hand to run my fingers along the smooth leather of saddle after saddle as I went.

  "Good morning, Jack," I greeted him, as if I hadn't noticed he was ignoring me.

  "Evelyn."

  He didn't bother turning to face me, just tossed out my name as he hung one bridle up and moved another out of the way. I briefly wondered if he had a favorite one, and if he was searching for it, before I plowed ahead.

  "I was wondering if I could ask you about something. I had an idea and I thought maybe I could run it by you."

  Did this stubborn, unreasonable man answer me? Did he so much as turn around to acknowledge that I was speaking? No, he did not. He just continued moving things around like it was the most important job in the history of jobs.

  Well, if he thought ignoring me was going to somehow deter me, he was wrong. I did not grow up with the queen of the silent treatment for nothing. Elise could go days pretending someone didn't exist. Sorry, cowboy, this is not my first rodeo.

  "I was hoping you would let me help you with King."

  Jack's arm stilled mid-reach. Excellent; that got his attention. He turned to face me, face completely neutral, giving nothing away. He just watched me. Not curious, not angry, not even surprised. The man might have missed his true calling. If the whole ranching thing didn't work out for him, I’m sure the CIA would take him in a heartbeat. Interrogating people would be a breeze for this guy. I mean, my hands were starting to sweat at an alarming rate and I was just asking a simple question.

  "See, I have this theory King would do better with a woman. Specifically, me and—"

  "No," he said, turning around to continue with whatever it was he’d been doing before I interrupted him, a clear dismissal of both the idea and me.

  But I wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. "Why not?"

  He sighed the sigh parents give children when they ask for the fiftieth time if they can have a cookie, then turned around to face me. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair in an obvious sign of frustration. My ovaries sighed a little at the sight of his messed-up hair, because I was female and breathing. My eyes traveled from his hair back to those brown eyes.

  "Why not?" I repeated with more force, straightening my spine.

  "Because you don’t know anything about horses. You'd either be in the way or end up getting hurt. I don't have time to babysit some city girl who wants to play cowgirl for a week. That's why."

  I felt my jaw drop as he finished hurling the words at me. I was stunned. Stunned and angry—so angry. How dare this man, who had made absolutely no effort whatsoever to get to know me, make so many assumptions? Shoving all my anger way, way down for later—and there would be a later—I reminded myself this was about King.

  "I know a little about horses; at least enough to not get hurt. And I do not need a babysitter." I emphasized the not. "I understand—"

  "I said no, Evelyn. Forget it."

  Cutting me off for the second time, Jack turned and walked through the door at the opposite end of the room, which I assumed led to, most importantly, wherever I was not.

  "That went well,” I said to the saddles and bridles.

  I hadn’t imagined a scenario where Jack was super enthusiastic about the idea, but I hadn’t thought he would be a total ass either. Was I going to let it go just because Jack the jackass said no? Nope. Was I concerned that I was resorting to calling him childish nicknames in my head? Also no. Was I going to lie awake tonight reliving the horror of this conversation and plotting revenge? Probably. I was a girl with a backup plan, though, and right now I needed to find my backup plans before Jack huffed and puffed and blew my little dream house down.

  Heading out of the barn, I spotted my backup plans loading tools and coiled wire into the bed of a large red pickup truck. Gabe and Cole were too busy chatting to notice me approaching them.

  "Hi, guys," I said cheerily, like someone who had not just been thoroughly insulted and then completely dismissed.

  Cole swung a large seven-gallon cooler into the truck bed like it weighed less than a feather. I could have watched those two work all day. Focus. I needed to focus on the task at hand.

  "Hey, Evelyn, what's up?" Cole stopped to wipe his arm across his forehead.

  "Well, I actually had a favor to ask you and Gabe. It's nothing major."

  Gabe stopped what he was doing to come stand next to Cole. In a tight grey Henley, the man was a walking dream.

  "A favor, huh?" Gabe quirked an eyebrow, throwing a little grin my way. I was slowly getting used to the effects of those devastating grins and was no longer rendered completely stupid every time he shot one my way.

  "Yep. I was hoping you guys could teach me about horses and…" I said, drawing out the word a little. "Teach me how to ride a horse. Re-teach really. I’ve ridden lots of horses. So many horses. It's just like riding a bike. Right?"

  Both men looked at me like I had just asked them if they’d seen Bigfoot running around the field this morning. Why was it so hard for all the men on this ranch to believe I wanted to learn to ride a horse? It wasn’t like I’d walked around in designer jeans and stilettos all week.

  "You want to learn to ride?" Cole repeated back to me slowly.

  I nodded my head enthusiastically.

  "Yes, I definitely want to learn to ride. Or re-learn, really."

  "Where exactly in Chicago have you been riding all these horses?" Gabe chimed in.

  "I rode horses at summer camp… when I was in middle school…" I looked at the bed of the truck, purposely avoiding eye contact with either of them.

  Silence stretched on for what felt like hours instead of a few seconds.

  "Not that I think it’s a terrible idea, but why the sudden interest in riding?" Cole asked—a totally reasonable question. I appreciated that these two weren’t immediately shutting me down.

  "It’s not sudden, not really. I just haven't gotten a chance to ride that didn't involve Rodney offering to go along and give me a leg up." I shuddered involuntarily, remembering the offer from just yesterday that had made me want to gag. Both men seemed to remember the conversation and cringed.

  "Fair enough," Cole said.

  "I bet Jack can—” Gabe began, but I cut him off.

  "No need to bring Jack into this. He's so busy doing stuff around here and being all grumpy and making assumptions."

  For the second time in our brief conversation, they looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. I sighed, pushing the toe of my boot around in the dirt.

  "I already asked Jack and he said no. A very solid no."

  "Jack said he wouldn't teach you? That doesn't sound like him. He might be a moody fuc—guy, but I can't see him refusing to teach you to ride,” Gabe said.

  One day I was going to put Gabe out of his very polite misery and tell him that I knew all the bad words, and even used them. Frequently. Especially in my head whenever Jack was around.

  "I have to agree with Gabe here, Evelyn. Jack's stubborn but not unreasonable. I can't see him telling anyone they couldn't learn to ride."

  I fought against the urge to roll my eyes. Jack was the most unreasonable human being I had ever encountered. He had acted like I’d asked him to help me build a nuclear bomb to drop on a herd of puppies, not let me help him with King.

  "Listen, just hear me out before you say no, okay? I may have actually phrased it as asking if I could help Jack with King. And he said he does not have time to, I quote, ‘babysit some city girl who wants to play cowgirl for a week.’" Their eyes widened in surprise. I was honest enough with myself to admit I was more than a little satisfied by their reaction.

  "But I really think I can help King. I heard Jack telling Sam that he wasn't making any progress with him the other night, and I have a theory about it. I've been going to King's paddock every day to talk to him.
Today, he walked over toward me. He got so close I could almost reach out and touch him. So I thought that maybe King would respond better to a woman. Which when you think about it, totally makes sense. He was mistreated by a bunch of men, so of course he’s going to have a hard time trusting a man. And Gabe, you said building trust was important."

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, fully aware I had just given them an earful. Cole eyed me warily, but not like I was an idiot—which I took as a good sign.

  "And you told all of that to Jack?" he asked.

  "No. I made it to the help with King part before he said no and walked off."

  Gabe was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. Something told me I should be nervous, that his expression meant trouble.

  "So, let me see if I have this right. You asked Jack to let you help him with King. He said no and now you want us to help you learn to ride so you can prove to Jack that you don't need a babysitter. That sound about right?"

  "Yep, that sounds about right. But less devious than you’re making it sound. Remember, it's for King, the poor, sad horse who needs a friend."

  Cole chuckled, and Gabe kept giving me that look that I couldn't quite place. I threw in the last weapon in my arsenal.

  "I know teaching me to ride would mean extra work for you guys, so I was thinking I could help you out with stuff around here. If you wanted,” I added.

  Gabe gave me one last look like he was making up his mind about something and then turned to Cole.

  "Evelyn, can you give us a minute?"

  "Sure, yeah, of course."

  I moved around to the front of the truck, just far enough away that I couldn't hear them but still close enough to watch them discuss whatever it was Gabe wanted to say. He was talking animatedly, using his hands, that easy grin still in place. Something he said must have been pretty unexpected, because Cole's head snapped back in surprise, then his hand came up to rub those lightly whiskered cheeks thoughtfully. Gabe kept talking, undeterred by Cole's reaction.

  I was starting to get nervous—or maybe concerned would be a better word. How did giving me riding lessons require this much discussion? Sure, Jack had said no to my plans to help King, but he hadn't said anything about me riding a horse. It was only a small technicality that teaching me to ride was intended to convince Jack to change his mind. It wasn't like I was asking them to sneak me into King's paddock when no one was looking.

  A smile started at one corner of Cole's mouth before stretching out wide, and he started shaking his head slowly. I knew I should be concerned. Every reasonable fiber of my being told me that interaction spelled trouble. But I wanted this badly—so badly I was willing to ignore all those reasonable voices. I wanted this more than I had wanted anything in a long time. Well, anything not food-related. So, I tuned out all those voices echoing around in my head saying this was no good and watched as the two men seemed to come to some sort of agreement and made their way back to me. Both wore broad smiles that did not seem to match the situation.

  "We'd love to help you. Cole and I will teach you to ride, and you can help us out a little around here. Might be good for you to learn a little bit about ranching. You know, so nobody has to babysit you while you're here."

  Gabe's voice was teasing and he smiled at me good-naturedly. I knew he was just parroting the words Jack had used on me earlier. It didn't matter. No amount of teasing could dampen my enthusiasm. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, barely able to contain my glee.

  Clapping my hands together, I half-yelled, half-sang my thoughts. "Thank you, thank you! I promise you won't regret this!"

  Cole gave me a look that could only be described as a mixture of skepticism and hopefulness. I chose to ignore all their weird looks, shoving them down somewhere below Jack's earlier angry words to be examined later. Right now, I was just going to bask in my victory.

  "We're going with Jack to see what parts of the fence need replaced before winter, but while we're gone, you can muck out the stalls. Figure that’d be a pretty easy job to get you started. I'll show you where the equipment is and find you a pair of gloves that aren't too big."

  Cole motioned for me to follow him into the barn.

  "Yes! I can muck stalls, no problem,” I responded, following close on his heels while trying to remember if I knew what mucking stalls meant. I thought it meant cleaning the stalls out, but I wouldn't bet money on it.

  Following Cole toward the tack room—the scene of my verbal assault earlier—he stopped in front of a wheelbarrow and tools that looked like the ones I used to use helping my dad in the yard growing up. Okay, nothing crazy, I can do this. I know what a rake is, and a shovel’s a shovel. Cole dug around on a shelf that was just high enough to hide the contents from my eyes until he found what he was looking for.

  Thrusting a pair of thick blue gloves in my direction, he instructed, "Put those on for fit. I think they’re the smallest pair we have around here. Might need to make a trip to town soon if you're serious about this plan,” he added, glancing down at my sneakers. I was wearing a pair of grey and pink Nikes that he was eyeballing like they were a pair of heels. Nikes were perfectly respectful shoes for doing things. They were doing-things shoes! I shrugged, pulling on the gloves. I held my hands out in front of me and wiggled my fingers in front him.

  "They're a little big but I think they’ll work fine." I moved my hands around dramatically to reinforce my words.

  "Looks good. Everything you need should be here. If you run into a problem, just ask anyone around. It's usually easiest starting at the far end and working your way back but you can do it however you want. Most of the stalls should be empty. Skip the ones that aren't; don't be a hero. You don't have anything to prove to Gabe and me, got it?"

  "Yes, absolutely. No problem."

  "All right then. Do you have any questions before we head out?"

  "Well… just one. What exactly does mucking out a stall mean?"

  12.

  After a very patient demonstration—so much more patient than I deserved—I was left alone with a wheelbarrow, some tools I wasn't convinced I knew how to use, and a mostly empty barn. Moving to the first stall, the one Cole had suggested, I stepped into the empty space, which smelled like things that couldn’t be found in Chicago.

  "Okay, you can do this. Just like raking leaves with Dad. Only smellier."

  I looked down at my new, clean Nikes and said ‘so long.’ I didn't think there was going to be a future for us after this was all over. I started raking out the old stuff, trying not to cringe every time I stepped in something that squished. I made pretty quick work of raking the contents into a pile and then shoveling them into the wheelbarrow waiting outside. Grabbing the handles, I lifted up to move to the next stall. Not realizing there was a difference steering an empty wheelbarrow and one filled with something, I took quick steps forward sending the wheelbarrow lurching suddenly to the left.

  "No no no no no!" I jerked it to the right trying to keep the stupid thing upright, but I jerked too hard and the movement sent the wheelbarrow crashing to the ground, spilling everything I had just shoveled into it.

  I whimpered, looking at the mess, and gave myself until the count of ten to get over it. Letting out a huff of breath to blow away the hair that was already spilling out of my ponytail, I grabbed the shovel and got back to work.

  Seven stalls later, I felt every single muscle in my arms—muscles I hadn't even known I had. I looked at the row of stalls I had left and sighed loudly. It seemed to go on forever. I couldn't even remember seeing that many horses on this ranch. I actually felt tears starting to build up in my eyes, and I whimpered again.

  My arms felt so heavy and my legs were starting to feel like I had done four million squats. The rake felt like it was made of bricks. For a brief second, I regretted turning down Hilari and Anna's invitations to go to their spinning class. Every single week. I’d tried hot yoga with them once and almost died. I thought yoga was supposed to be
relaxing, but I’d felt like an unhappy pretzel in an oven.

  Hank Williams, who had been napping on a pile of hay in the corner most of the time, lifted his head just long enough to let out a little howl of his own.

  "I know, Hank, I know." I drew out the last word.

  Drawing on the one and only thing I had going for me, I called up the words Jack had hurled my way earlier and let my stubbornness take over. Moving stall to stall, I tried to ignore the muscles that cried out every time I bent or shoveled or lifted or breathed. I focused on Jack calling me a city girl who needed a babysitter, and King, who needed a friend. I was running on rage fumes when I heard Mary calling my name from somewhere in the barn.

  "I'm here," I called, popping my head out of the stall I was in. I had finished and was wheeling my way out of the stall by the time she found her way to the far end of the barn.

  "Goodness, Evelyn, look at you! You missed lunch and Sam said he hadn't seen you all day. What on earth are you doing?"

  Mary's eyes roamed over me, taking in my dirty, disheveled appearance, her eyes moving from my shoes to the hay I could feel sticking out of the sad remnants of my ponytail. I could also feel something that I hoped was dirt smeared on my forehead from where I had pushed my hair out of my face earlier.

  My stomach rumbled loudly, right on cue. I never missed meals. I was usually planning lunch before I finished breakfast. Missing meals almost always led to a migraine, and I just genuinely liked to eat. I had the physique to prove it. I must not have been able to feel the hunger over all the throbbing in my limbs.

  "Umm… mucking stalls?" I shrugged and then immediately winced when my shoulders protested loudly at the movement.

  "I see that. Why are you mucking stalls?"

  I panicked a little, debating how to answer what should have been an easy question. No part of me wanted to explain to Mary that her youngest son was quite possibly the biggest ass in Montana and had given me an epic verbal beatdown for asking a simple question. But I also didn't want to lie to this woman, who had been nothing but kind to me since I had arrived. I decided to go with a version of the truth that I hoped wouldn't make anyone look bad, even if I really wanted to make it known that Jack was the bad guy in this scenario. I knew it. My muscles knew it. Cole and Gabe knew it. That would have to be good enough.