by C. S. Adler
“Yes.” Mel brought her knees up and rested her chin on them, preparing to listen some more.
“Okay, so one day when Clara was edging onto thirty and I got my first gray hair, we eloped. Came back married. Her daddy was mad. He said we could stay on the ranch, and it would still be Clara's someday. But if we set off on our own, he'd make sure she never inherited it. Well, that ranch was a piece of Clara's heart. So we stayed, and her daddy worked at making my life miserable any way he could.”
“Like what did he do?” Mel asked.
“Oh, he found fault with every chore I did, made me out to be a fool or an idiot. And Clara got uptight because we couldn't seem to make a baby. One day I had enough of it. I told her either she left with me or I was leaving by myself. Well, she couldn't bring herself to leave her daddy or the home she grew up in, so I went.” He shrugged. “And here I am.”
“She never asked you to come back?”
Sally smiled. “We stay in touch regular, Mel. But we're both as set in our ways as her old man. So like I said, I'm still here.”
“That's so sad,” Mel said.
Sally shrugged. “Okay, that's my story. What's yours, Mel?”
Mel looked him in the eye. “If you got mocked for looking like a scarecrow in horseback, would you ride?”
“Who told you that?”
“A girl who knew. I was riding her horse in a show, and I messed up bad.”
“You have a lot of riding lessons before hand?”
“No.”
“So what are you telling me? You try something once and blow it and that's it? You give up and decide you can't do it?”
She shrugged.
“Anyways, you ride just fine now,” he said.
“I do?”
He frowned at her. “Of course you do. Think I'd let you take off on Colby if I didn't think you were a good rider?”
“Oh, Sally,” she said, and she hugged him hard.
* * * *
Every week for the rest of July, Mel led family rides around Beaver Lake. Twice a week on different days, she led groups up to the picnic grounds for a breakfast hike. That was the other easy trail. Nothing happened, nothing bad. No one mocked her riding ability, and after a couple of weeks, she rode relaxed in the saddle on Colby's back. He wasn't the affectionate horse that Lily was, but he was alert to everything around him, his dark eyes took in every variation in his surroundings—the ranch's van parked in front of the dining hall, the lawn mower buzzing past the pond, and Mel herself when she appeared. “At least Colby recognizes me and comes to me when he sees me,” Mel told Denise. “Although, I suppose that's because I give him treats.”
“Or because he trusts you,” Denise said. “You're really good with horses, Mel.”
“You better think so if we're going into business together,” Mel said. And they slapped high fives.
By midsummer, the ranch had a full complement of guests to take out on the various levels of trail rides. Jeb and Sally had finally sorted out which horses did best leading and which didn't get along and were likely to fight if they were out in the same group. They knew which horses cared whose rump they followed, and which ones stumbled too often on rocky trails. They could warn a guest whose mount had a habit of nipping other animals or who would kick if another horse rode up his butt. The ranch was operating like a well-conducted orchestra, and Mel was proud to be playing a part in it.
Then one morning Jeb stopped beside Mel as she was grooming her tall, speckled horse.
“Nobody signed up for the family ride this morning, Mel, and my horse's gone lame, so I'm borrowing Colby.”
“But Colby's my horse,” she said in alarm.
Jeb ran his hand down the horse's shoulder making Colby shudder. “You bought him when I wasn't looking?” he asked slyly.
“I don't have enough saved yet.”
“Yeah, well. Then he's still out on hire to the ranch, right? You tack him up for me. I'm going to see how good you trained him.”
Furiously Mel did as she was told. In short order, Jeb swung into the saddle and led his riders out of the corral, opening and closing the gate from horseback. Mel had no more than half an hour to smolder with indignation before Jeb came loping back. His shirtsleeve was torn and his arm was bloody.
“This fool horse's more scared rabbit than equine,” Jeb said to Sally who'd opened the gate for him. “He don't like cars honking at him on the road and loose rock drives him wild.”
“He buck you off, Jeb?” Sally asked with sly sympathy.
“Now you know I can ride anything on four legs, Sally. I stayed on him, but he jammed me into a tree. Can't use him for trail riding, that's for sure.”
“He's fine with me,” Mel said, looking up from the sore on a horse's leg that she was bandaging.
“You think so? Well, it's your hide,” Jeb said, and he had Sally tack up another horse for him so he could rejoin the group that he'd left waiting for him up the road.
* * * *
One week, four of Mel's eight riders included a tight-lipped, frowning father, his twin ten-year-old sons, and a teenage daughter who was complaining about having to get up so early. “It's my vacation too, Daddy,” the girl said. “Why can't I just go on afternoon rides?”
“Because we're doing things together this week,” the father said. When Mel adjusted his stirrups, he asked her if she was going to be leading them.
“Yes, I'm your wrangler this morning. ”“My name's Mel.”
“You look young to be leading us,” the father replied. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Same age as my daughter.” Without another word, the man pulled his horse out of line and walked him over to where Jeb was standing with the checklist of morning riders.
“I want a more mature wrangler. It's dangerous to give a fifteen-year-old responsibility for a group of riders,” the man said to Jeb.
Jeb's jaw twitched. All available wranglers, including Jeb himself, were assigned to more difficult trails. “Mel's really good with horses,” Jeb said. “She's been leading this ride for weeks without a problem.”
“What if something goes wrong on the trail? How's a kid her age to deal with it?”
“She's got a cell phone. She'll call for help like any other wrangler.”
“I'm not comfortable with that. I'm asking you to send someone more experienced with us.”
“You can take the morning ride up to the breakfast stop on the mountain,” Jeb said. “We got a college boy leading that in half an hour.”
The man turned to his sons who were mounted and ready. The one who looked like a smaller, thin-lipped version of him said angrily, “You promised us, Dad.”
“My sons want to see the beavers,” the man said to Jeb.
“All right, tomorrow morning I'll switch wranglers around,” Jeb said. “You can do Beaver Lake tomorrow and today do the mountain trail. How's that?”
“We want to go today,” the other twin said.
The man studied his sons for a few seconds, shrugged, and said to Jeb, “Okay, we'll follow that girl, but I hold you responsible if anything goes wrong.”
Mel swung into her saddle and was ready to lead her group out when Jeb stepped up beside her to say quietly, “Be extra careful with this bunch. Don't let nothing happen or we're both in deep horse doo.”
Mel nodded and swallowed hard. She started down the road with a stomach clenched around the waffles she had had for breakfast. The two hours on the trail had better go off without incident or she'd lose her job and any hope of earning enough to buy Colby. The frowning father was riding tail for her group behind his two sons. Ahead of them was an older couple, not related to them. They'd introduced themselves as Sam and Mabel. The thirteen-year-old daughter rode in front of Mabel on a bay that kicked any horse that came too close behind it. Mel twisted around in her saddle and rode backwards for a bit to warn Mabel that she needed to keep her horse, General, out of kicking range.
“Will do
,” the grandmotherly woman said.
But then after they'd gone over the bridge and were climbing the rock-strewn slope to the road, Mabel turned to tell her husband something about the altitude pills he was supposed to have taken. “Are you feeling all right, sweetie?” she asked him, not paying attention to her horse.
General, feeling the reins loosen, started to trot, and in doing so, shoved up into the girl's horse, which promptly kicked a hind leg out. The girl screamed, and General bolted across the road. Mel scrambled after Mabel and caught her horse's lead line.
“Whoa,” she said. “Whoa, General.” She walked him a few feet up the hill ahead of the group until he had calmed. “Are you all right?” she asked Mabel.
“I think so.” I didn't fall off, did I?”
“No, you sure didn't,” Mel said. “I guess General just spooked when he got kicked. He'll be fine now. But maybe you better ride more back in the line, like behind your husband?”
“Good idea.”
Mel led General to his new place in line and returned to her lead position.
Nothing further happened on the ride. One of the twins saw the head of a swimming beaver, and the whole party got excited at the sighting. When they'd returned to the corral and had dismounted, the father said to Mel, “You did a good job back there. I can see why they trust you. I wish my daughter were half as capable.”
“Maybe she would be if she had my job,” Mel said.
He raised an eyebrow and half smiled, but his daughter whispered, “Thanks,” to Mel as she swung off her horse.
After the family had trudged off in their borrowed cowboy boots toward the main hall where the raucous lunch bell was summoning them, Jeb asked Mel, “So how did it go? Think he's going to complain to Davis?”
“He said I did a good job.”
“He did? Whew!He had me worried there. Bet he's a lawyer or some kind of big shot. Next time anyone asks your age, you tell them you're sixteen, Mel. We don't need more hassles than we already got in this job.”
That evening, Mel's mother said, “I'm proud of you. Jeb says you're mature and dependable, and he isn't much for praising people.”
“You can say that again.”
Her mother just laughed.
The next morning someone said, “Hi,” as Mel was tacking up a bay for an all day pack trip that Sally was leading.
On the other side of the corral fence was the girl who'd been on the family ride yesterday. “Hi,” Mel replied.
“Do you work all day, or do you have time like to have a soda or something?” the girl asked.
“I'm done for the morning as soon as I finish this horse.”
“Good. I'd like to hear about your life.”
Mel laughed. “It's not much of a life.”
“Oh, yes, it is. My dad respects you, and he doesn't respect any other fifteen-year-old girls I know.” Her eyes were intent on Mel.
Mel led the bay over to the mounting block when Sally called for him. “I'm going to hang out with her for a while,” she said, pointing to the slim, black-haired girl waiting outside of the corral for her.
“Good.” Sally smiled.
At Mel's suggestion, she and the girl, who said her name was Tanya, skipped the soda. Instead, they walked over the bridge to the petting zoo with milk for the calf.
“So doesn't your father respect you?” Mel asked after she'd introduced Tanya to the goat that put his front hooves on Mel's knees and tried to chew her belt. She pushed him down and scratched around his ears while he nuzzled her.
“Dad expects me to be perfect,” Tanya said. “And when I'm not, he gets mad.”
“Tough,” Mel said.
“So are you related to the owner or something that they let you be a wrangler?” Tanya asked. It was her turn to wrestle the goat away from her shirt, which he seemed to find tasty.
“No. I'm just good with horses. It's the only thing I'm good at.”
“Really?” Tanya pushed the goat away. It scampered off and leapt to the roof of the shed. There it straddled the peaked roof. When it bleated as if it were calling for help, both girls giggled. “I'm a good student,” Tanya said. “And I play two instruments, and I won first prize with a portrait painting of my brothers this spring, but my father says I have no ambition.”
“You're kidding,” Mel said. “What would he say about me if he knew all I want is to save up enough to get my own horse?”
“Makes sense. I mean you wanting a horse. I hope you get one soon.”
“I'm working on buying Colby. Want to feed the calf?” She offered Tanya the bottle she'd been carrying.
“Not especially. I don't like how it slobbers. How about we try out the swimming pool?”
“Okay,” Mel agreed. She wasn't much of a swimmer and hadn't used the ranch's pool once, but being sought out by a girl like Tanya was flattering. Tanya reminded her of Lisa. Maybe a little spoiled, but talented—a star. Lisa had reached out to her, then Denise, and now Tanya. If this kept up, Mel would have to give up thinking of herself as a social misfit.
She fed the calf and then ran to her cabin to dig out her old swimsuit. There it was, scrunched in the back of her bottom dresser drawer. Luckily, it still fit although it was a couple of years old. It was mostly her legs that had stretched out. Looking around for something besides boots to protect her feet from the rock strewn ground, she realized that all her belongings would fit in one suitcase. Tanya probably owned a roomful of stuff and here she was envying Mel. The idea made Mel grin.
Chapter Nine
At the end of the week Tanya left, promising to write. Soon after, Mel faced another challenge. Two families were scheduled for her three o'clock trail ride through the quivery-leafed Aspens and the low-growing chokeberry bushes to Beaver Lake. Sally was gone on an all-day ride, and Jeb was taking a big group of supposedly expert riders up a steep trail to a mountain lake. One of the other wranglers, a college boy who'd worked on the ranch in past summers, said to her, “Looks like some weather coming up.”
She saw the purplish, bruised-looking sky behind the mountains and decided the rain was likely to fall back there, on the far side of the range. Rather than disappoint her group for nothing, she took a chance and led them off toward the lake on schedule. They were in luck. A boy spotted a beaver, and Mel called a halt so everyone could watch the animal climb the pile of sticks above the water that marked the roof of its underwater lodge. It embarrassed her that she couldn't answer the boy's eager questions about how many beavers were likely to live in the lodge and what they ate and whether they had any babies down there now.
“We can look it up on the Internet when we get back,” the boy's father said.
Mel's relief at being rescued from her ignorance lasted only until she heard the first roll of thunder. Jeb had told her what she must do if she was ever caught in a thunderstorm with guests—get them out of the open and under the thick canopy of tree branches. There they were to put on the yellow rain slickers rolled up behind their saddles.
“We're going to have to wait out the storm,” she said. But before she could tell her group where to take cover, a sudden loud crack of thunder frightened Colby. He whinnied and reared. Mel, who was turned backward toward the guests, lost her seat and fell. She hit her shoulder hard against the ground as Colby took off at a gallop.
“You okay?” the genial, ex-marine father of the boy who'd been intrigued by the beaver asked as he helped her to her feet.
She touched her shoulder. It hurt, but she could move her arm all right. “I think I'm okay,” she said. But Colby was out of sight and rain began pouring down as if someone had turned the faucets on full blast.
At her direction, the ex-marine got everyone under the trees and into their rain slickers. Mel struggled to get her cell phone out of her fanny pack and call the ranch for help, trying all the while not to wince at the pain in her shoulder.
Half an hour later Mr. Davis came riding to the rescue. The group seemed to take the experience as an adven
ture, and were good natured about being caught in a storm. In short order, everyone was safely back at the ranch, including Colby, who jogged up to the corral without anyone needing to go after him. Riderless and wet, he was shaking his head and looking woebegone. Luckily, Mel's shoulder wasn't broken, only sore and bruised. Jeb didn't take the event lightly though. That horse,” Jeb snapped at Sally. “I told you it couldn't be trusted.”
“It was my fault,” Mel said. “I shouldn't have gone, and that thunder boomed really close to Colby.”
Jeb didn't argue with her, but without warning that he was going to do it, he got rid of Colby. One morning when Mel came down to the corral, she found Colby gone. Sally wouldn't tell her where he was, so she ran to Jeb and asked him.
“Sent him back to Jeffries,” Jeb growled. “He wasn't reliable enough to use on a dude ranch.”
“You got rid of him?” she gasped. “But that's not fair. You told me to train him. Colby was mine.”
“Yours? He belongs to Jeffries, Mel. We'll get you a better horse. Don't worry,” Jeb said and would have patted her on the shoulder if she hadn't pulled away.
Mel was furious. She screamed at Jeb without caring who heard her. “I hate you!” Then she stomped off to sulk in her cabin. She didn't come out for meals. Her mother brought her dinner at the end of the first day. Sally came by with chocolate cake from the cook the second night. But Mel refused to eat anything. She spent three days mourning Colby, mourning all her losses, beginning with the father she'd never had, right through Lisa and Wonder Boy, Lily and Hojo and now Colby. Then her mother brought her Tanya's e-mail.
My dad says I can have horseback riding lessons if I want. How's Colby? Let me know when you've saved up enough to buy him.
“You can use the office computer if you want to answer her,” her mother said.