If Wishes Were Horses

by Robert Barclay

  Their table was one of the best in the place, and it was set with sparkling silverware, leaded crystal, and a perfect white tablecloth. A little chrome stand in the table’s center held an engraved card bearing the single word: Reserved. After the three of them sat down, Wyatt discreetly scooped up the card and placed it facedown on the table.

  Gabby gave Wyatt a curious look. “How’d you mange this?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you! I’ve never eaten here, but I know for a fact that this place doesn’t take reservations.”

  “I know the owner,” Wyatt answered as he placed his napkin on his lap. “Blaine and Blaine did some legal work for him last year. I got the idea of getting a table in here anytime I wanted in return for a break on our fee. The owner was only too glad to agree. Claudette is his wife.”

  Gabby smiled. “And just how many more such ‘arrangements’ in Boca does Blaine and Blaine enjoy?”

  Wyatt’s infectious smile surfaced again. “A few.”

  Their waiter arrived, and he greeted Wyatt warmly. Wyatt introduced Gabby and Trevor then ordered three brunches from the buffet. After asking Gabby about her drink preference, Wyatt ordered two Bloody Marys plus two coffees, and a diet soda for Trevor. Trevor was so hungry that his stomach growled noticeably. Gabby blushed; Wyatt smiled. Gabby turned to look at the buffet line and saw that it had grown long.

  “Go ahead,” Gabby said to her son. No one needed to tell Trevor twice. He hurried over to the buffet and got in line.

  Soon the drinks came, and Gabby and Wyatt sipped their Bloody Marys for a time in silence. After glancing back at Trevor, Wyatt put down his cocktail then gave Gabby a knowing look.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “James Dean, right? Red Windbreaker and all.”

  Gabby nodded. “Straight out of Rebel Without a Cause. And kudos on your powers of observation. Most people don’t connect Trevor’s appearance with the actor. Instead they think that my son is just some throwback greaser-in-training.”

  Wyatt couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I don’t mind his look. All he’s missing is a cute girlfriend in a poodle skirt and a vintage Porsche! And speaking of clothes, did you buy him a Western hat and a pair of boots? It might sound silly to you, but he really will need them.”

  Gabby took another sip of her Bloody Mary. It was a bit spicy, just the way she liked it.

  “It was a struggle,” she answered. “The only way I got him to agree was to convince him that James Dean sometimes wore Western clothes. That was his principal’s idea.”

  Wyatt nodded. “I know Roy,” he said. “He’s a smart man.”

  “And just why do the kids need boots and hats?” Gabby asked. “I don’t know anything about horses, but it seems to me that a person could ride while wearing almost any getup, right?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “The hat will protect his head and face from the sun, and keep the sweat out of his eyes. The heels on the boots will help keep his feet planted in the stirrups. And make sure that the boots are his only footwear while he’s at the ranch. Trust me, that’s how you’ll want it.”

  “Why?” Gabby asked again. She feared she was starting to sound like a pest, but she was becoming genuinely interested.

  “Because part of Trevor’s equestrian training will be mucking out stalls,” Wyatt answered, “and you don’t want him dirtying every pair of shoes he owns! It’s part of the overall therapy process. Nothing takes the starch out of a hard-nosed teenager like an hour or two of shoveling that stuff. I did plenty of it when I was his age. And like Trevor, I had my share of undeserved swagger.”

  Gabby smiled. She had difficulty envisioning the well-dressed lawyer sitting across from her as ever having had to shovel out horse stalls. She also began wondering what Wyatt would look like in Western-style clothes. He seemed the type of man who could wear whatever he wanted to and get away with it. Then she thought about Trevor again. After everything her son had put her through, she had to admit that the image of her own little James Dean shoveling horse manure possessed a certain appeal.

  She was just getting to know Wyatt, and before coming here today she had silently vowed not to mention the fatal car crash that had so tragically entangled their lives. Even so, there was something she thought Wyatt deserved to know, something she had neglected to tell him during their meeting with Reverend Jacobson. The longer she sat across the table from him, the greater her need to admit it became.

  Her omission had haunted her ever since Wyatt agreed to accept Trevor into the New Beginnings Program. As the past week had gone by, she worried more and more that had Wyatt known, he might have refused her request. Even now, she didn’t know whether her silence had been accidental or intentional.

  Worse, she feared that if she told him, he might decide he had been doubly tricked and angrily rescind his offer. But if there was one virtue Gabby Powers steadfastly refused to compromise, it was her honesty. And if she was going to risk telling Wyatt, it needed to be done before Trevor returned to the table. As she tried to prepare herself for his response, Gabby took a deep breath.

  “There’s something I need to say before Trevor comes back,” she said. “It’s important to me that you hear it. I should have told you about it that day in Reverend Jacobson’s office, but I was so happy that you gave us your permission, I could hardly think of anything else. I can only hope that you will take it in the spirit in which it is given.”

  Wyatt took a final pull on his Bloody Mary then called the waiter over and ordered another one. Gabby declined. Wyatt gave her a stern look.

  “It’s about the car crash, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “How did you know?”

  “You’ve got the same somber look on your face that you had back in Jacobson’s office,” Wyatt answered. Then he stared down at his drink for a time.

  “That crash is the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room,” he finally added. “I suppose that it always will be. But you’ve come this far, so you might as well get all your cards on the table for good.”

  Hoping that she was about to do the right thing, Gabby nodded.

  “Trevor believes it was Krista who caused the crash, rather than his father,” she said. “I’ve tried and tried to tell him the truth, but he won’t have any of it. He even refuses to read the newspaper clippings or the police report. Jason was everything to him, and in his eyes, his father could do no wrong. Roy believes that’s why he imitates James Dean—he’s looking for a male role model who died young in a tragic car crash, just like his father. Without Jason in his life, he’s searching for an identity. But it goes even deeper than that, Wyatt. In Trevor’s warped view of things, he not only holds Krista responsible for Jason’s death but your entire family as well.”

  Wyatt sat back in his chair, thinking. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m simply at my wits’ end with him, and before you agreed to enroll him in your program, I was getting desperate,” Gabby added. “Your kindness was the only thing that kept him from being expelled six days ago! I can only hope that after hearing this, you’ll still allow him to participate. There’s a lot of good in him, Wyatt, I just know it. But he needs this program right now. I might as well also tell you that I’m scared to death of horses, and I almost didn’t agree to this.”

  Wyatt’s face became emotionless, impossible to read. Gabby held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “First you surprise me in Jacobson’s office, and now you tell me all this?” he asked. “It’s a lot to absorb.”

  “Then perhaps it was best that it came in bits and pieces,” Gabby offered.

  To Gabby’s surprise, Wyatt’s tone hadn’t sounded angry. Even so, she sensed that what little warmth was growing between them had suddenly chilled.

  “Do you really believe that being around my family is what Trevor needs right now?” Wyatt asked. “How on earth is that going to help him?”

  “I think that your program is exactly what he needs,” Gabby said. “If he spends time on
the ranch and sees that the Blaines are normal, maybe he’ll accept reality. I’m no psychologist, Wyatt. But if there’s a chance that it might work, Trevor needs to try it.”

  As Gabby held her breath, Wyatt sat in stony silence. He took another long slug of his drink. When he set the glass back down, it landed hard.

  “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” Wyatt asked. “Because if there is—”

  “No, I swear it.”

  “Then my answer remains the same,” he said. “I still believe that I made the right decision, because this is about Trevor, not you and me. But if I find out that you’re hiding anything else—”

  “Oh, Wyatt, thank you!” Gabby interjected. “I promise that you won’t be sorry!”

  Forgetting herself for a moment, she touched his hand. Unsure of how to respond, Wyatt simply let it happen. The two scarred souls who were so inescapably linked by their mutual sense of loss sat quietly for a time, looking into each other’s eyes and not knowing what to say. Just then Gabby saw Trevor coming back, and she pulled her hand away.

  Trevor returned to the table with a plateful of pancakes, bacon, and sausage, all of it drowning in maple syrup. Like most boys his age, he was a food destroyer of the highest order. Oblivious to the meaningful conversation he had just quelled, he started gobbling down his brunch.

  Wyatt looked across the table at Gabby. “I think he has the right idea,” he said. “Shall we?”

  Gabby nodded. “I’m starved.”

  After making their way through the buffet line, Gabby and Wyatt returned to the table. Everyone ate in silence for a time then Wyatt politely asked Gabby about herself. She gave him a quick thumbnail sketch, and he reciprocated. Although Trevor’s quiet moodiness had returned, Wyatt considered the boy’s presence a blessing. So long as he was there, there would be no more talk of the car crash, or of why he needed the therapy program. Wyatt used the opportunity to talk a bit about his father.

  Gabby smiled. “Ram sounds like quite a character.”

  Wyatt swallowed another bite of his eggs Benedict before answering. “You have no idea! You’ll meet him tomorrow. He’s heard about you and Trevor, and he’s eager to meet you. And when it comes to interesting characters, Big John and Aunt Lou aren’t far behind. You’ll like them, too. They live in the big house with me and Ram.”

  “The ‘big house’?” Gabby asked. “You make it sound like a prison.”

  Wyatt smiled. “I don’t mean to. It’s just that it’s, well, big. There are more than fifty rooms.”

  “Are you serious?” Gabby asked.

  Wyatt nodded.

  “Who takes care of it all?”

  “The ranch hands do the landscaping, painting, and so on,” Wyatt answered. “Aunt Lou does all the cooking and oversees a few maids who clean and do the laundry and such.”

  “Someone else to do all the housework,” Gabby said wistfully. “A girl can only dream.”

  “Is it hard to ride a horse?” Trevor asked.

  “It’s like anything else,” Wyatt answered. “Some people learn quickly, and others struggle. The trick is to become one with the animal, and to let him do all the work.”

  “What kind of horses do you raise on the ranch?” Gabby asked.

  “American quarter horses,” Wyatt answered. “They’re Ram’s favorites. They’re very fast and highly adaptable to all sorts of tasks. Sometimes for fun we barrel-race them.”

  Again the three of them ate quietly. After devouring a second plateful of food, Trevor had finally reached his limit. The look on his face told Gabby that he had more than fulfilled his promise to her, and he wanted to get away from the adults for a while.

  “Can I go outside?” he asked. “I want to look at some of the shops.”

  Gabby nodded. “Sure, but aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Trevor stood from his chair and looked at Wyatt. “Thank you for brunch…Wyatt,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” Wyatt answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t forget to wear your boots and hat.”

  Trevor’s pinched expression returned for a moment, then he rummaged up another unconvincing smile. “I won’t,” he answered. Without further ado, he made his way to the door and out onto the plaza.

  Wyatt took another sip of coffee. “He certainly seems normal enough,” he offered.

  Gabby snorted out a short laugh. “He wasn’t too bad. But you haven’t seen the real Trevor.”

  With Wyatt and Gabby alone once more, the awkward silence returned.

  “I want to thank you again,” she said. “If there’s any way I can make it up to you…”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Let’s just hope that Trevor benefits from the program. It might be harder for him because of how he feels about my family, so we’ll just have to wait and see. I’m no great judge of kids, but you’re right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I see a lot of good in him, too,” Wyatt answered.

  It was suddenly hard for Gabby to fight back tears, but she managed. After collecting her purse and clearing her throat, she stood. Wyatt stood with her.

  “I’d best be going,” she said, “before my young hoodlum knocks over one of the stores.”

  “Call me if he does,” Wyatt answered. “You’ll need a good lawyer.”

  Gabby smiled. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  “Until tomorrow,” he answered.

  Wyatt remained standing as he watched Gabby leave the restaurant. Her stride was unconsciously seductive, causing several men to turn their heads as she went by. Only then did Wyatt sit back down at the table. To his surprise, for the first time since starting to come here for Sunday brunch some five years ago, he felt completely alone in a sea of people.

  After ordering another coffee, he signed the check. For some reason, he didn’t feel like leaving. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to risk bumping into Gabby and Trevor again, because he might find it awkward. Whatever the cause, he stayed for a while and nursed his coffee in silence.

  As the time passed, Gabby remained in Wyatt’s thoughts. She had courage, that one. She could easily have hidden Trevor’s feelings about Wyatt’s family. Instead she had chosen to be honest, regardless of the possible consequences. And there was something else that Wyatt admired about her. Unlike some women Wyatt had met, she hadn’t appeared interested in his wealth. For now, at least, it seemed that she valued a man’s self-worth more than his net worth.

  But there was much more to Gabby Powers than her courage and her honesty. Only moments ago, he’d told Gabby that this was all about Trevor. But with each passing day, he feared that it had more to do with Gabby than he was willing to admit.

  For better or for worse, she had unexpectedly entered his life. She was the only woman in the last five years he had felt truly interested in, but with whom he couldn’t allow himself to become entangled. After finishing his coffee, Wyatt rubbed his face with his hands.

  “Christ,” he muttered to himself. “Of all the women in all the world…”

  NINE

  THE SONOGRAM CONFIRMS a colt, Mr. Ram,” Big John announced happily. “It’s gonna be a boy.”

  As if in answer to Big John’s statement, the pregnant gray mare named Sadie whinnied then shook her mane and halter. After resting his forearms on top of the open-stall Dutch door, Ram again looked toward the prized broodmare.

  Sadie was one of the Flying B’s finest. She had been bred several times before, and each time she had “taken” and delivered without incident. Serviced ten months ago by one of the Flying B’s best studs, Sadie would give birth soon. The resulting foal would be very valuable to the ranch.

  Even so, the impending newborn was less important to Ram than his mother. For Ram, the mare formally registered as Sadie of the Flying B, was more than just another of the ranch’s many quarter horses. Sadie had the perfect lines, refined head, and broad chest that were such highly prized characteristics among her breed. Sadie was Ram�
�s favorite, and he would be desolate if he lost her. As she snuffled and swished her longish gray tail, he smiled. Opening the stall door, he walked in.

  “Are you sure?” he asked Big John.

  Big John nodded. “No doubt about it.” From within his worn overalls he fished out a copy of the sonogram and handed it over.

  “How soon, you figure?” Ram asked.

  “She’s getting heavy,” Big John answered. “Seven more weeks, I’d say. Maybe eight.”

  After examining the sonogram, Ram walked up to Sadie and stroked her head. He squatted down and looked at her underside. Big John was right. Like all the ranch’s pregnant mares, Sadie had recently been trucked to a Boca veterinary hospital where precautionary sonograms had been taken.

  “Is there anything else we can do for her?” Ram asked.

  “After she gives birth, start her on a wet bran mash,” a female voice called out from the other side of the stall door. “Use two-thirds regular grain and a third wheat bran. It’ll keep her from getting colicky.”

  Ram and Big John turned to see a woman standing in the corridor. She opened the stall door and walked in.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Ram asked.

  “Long enough to hear you old men blathering to each other,” she answered.

  Mercedes Lawson was one of Ram’s ablest ranch hands. Although she had never been formally trained, some said that she knew as much about caring for horses as Big John. Ram had often suggested that she attend college and then vet school, but she always argued that Big John was a far better teacher than any “mealymouthed professor.” The more that Mercedes learned about horses, the more Ram decided that she was right.

  Like Big John and Aunt Lou, Mercedes had started working at the Flying B while she was young. When she’d answered an employment ad that Ram had placed in the Boca paper, she was eighteen years old and fresh out of the Florida foster-care system. Some said that experience had left her with a chip on her shoulder that she carried to this day.