If Wishes Were Horses

by Robert Barclay

  Because this was Gabby’s decision, Wyatt looked to her for guidance before answering. For a moment he thought he saw some shininess in her eyes. Then Gabby cleared her throat and gave Wyatt a nearly imperceptible nod. He nodded back.

  “I think we can arrange something,” Wyatt answered. “Perhaps you could clean her stall and brush her coat. Until you know more about horses, we’ll have to limit it to that. But there’s something else to consider.”

  “What?” Trevor asked.

  “You’ll still have to take care of the horse assigned to you during your therapy,” Wyatt said. “After all, we can’t forget why you’re here. But if your mother agrees, I think we can work something out. Chances are, this will also mean that you two will be the last visitors to leave the ranch each day.”

  Trevor looked at Gabby with begging eyes. “Can I?” he asked.

  Gabby nodded. “If it’s all right with Wyatt, it’s all right with me. But remember something. You’re the one who asked for this extra responsibility. That means you can’t shirk it later if you get tired of it. Wyatt will be relying on you to hold up your end, so make sure that you do.”

  “I will,” Trevor promised.

  Gabby nodded. “Then I guess Sadie is now partly your responsibility.”

  For the first time since his father’s death, Trevor truly beamed with delight. “Thank you!” he said. “And thank you, too, Wyatt!”

  Wyatt smiled. “Since that’s settled, we might as well get this relationship started,” he said.

  He produced the two sugar cubes he had taken earlier and handed them to Trevor. “Those are for Sadie,” he said. “You’ll find that horses love sugar. Give her a sugar cube from time to time, and she’ll be your friend forever.”

  “Really?” Trevor asked.

  “Yep,” Wyatt answered. “But first, let me show you a trick that no one else at the Flying B knows about. Until now, it had always been my and Sadie’s little secret. First hold the sugar cubes in one hand.”

  Trevor did as he was told. “Okay,” he said.

  “Now I want you to lick the palm of your free hand,” Wyatt said. “Get it good and wet.”

  “Why?” Trevor asked.

  Wyatt smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Trevor felt a bit foolish, but he did as Wyatt asked.

  “Rub one of the sugar cubes hard against your wet palm,” Wyatt said. “Do it until your hand is good and sticky.”

  As Trevor again obeyed, Gabby gave Wyatt a questioning look. Wyatt winked at her.

  “Now you can feed Sadie the sugar cubes,” Wyatt said to Trevor. “Fully open your dry hand, and place your thumb tight alongside it. Then make sure that your palm is as flat as it can be, and set the cubes on it.”

  Trevor did as he was told and held his hand out. After gently taking the cubes between her lips, Sadie munched them contentedly with her long, uniform teeth, then whinnied again.

  “Now hold your sticky palm up to her muzzle,” Wyatt said. “Don’t worry—she’ll understand. Sadie and I have been doing this for a long time.”

  “What part of her is her muzzle?” Trevor asked.

  Remembering how little Trevor knew about horses, Wyatt smiled. “The muzzle is her mouth.”

  As Trevor followed Wyatt’s instructions, Sadie eagerly licked his palm. When Sadie finished, Trevor briskly rubbed his palm against the leg of his jeans.

  Wyatt laughed. “It tickles, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  “It does!” Trevor exclaimed. “Can I do it again?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Horses love sugar, but it’s not good to give them too much. And now you must promise me something.”

  “What?” Trevor asked.

  “You must never show Sadie’s trick to anyone else,” Wyatt answered.

  “I won’t,” Trevor said solemnly.

  Trevor rubbed Sadie’s face again. No sooner did he stop than she affectionately nudged him, nearly toppling him. Trevor laughed.

  “See?” Wyatt asked. “She likes you already.”

  Gabby looked at her watch. She would have loved to stay, but tomorrow was another school day. “Time to go, young man,” she said.

  Trevor’s sadness returned. “All right,” he said.

  “Don’t worry,” Wyatt said cheerfully. “She’ll be here waiting for you when you come back on Wednesday. Next time, I’ll show you where I keep my secret stash of sugar cubes.”

  After Wyatt opened the stall door and the three of them walked out, Gabby leaned closer to him. “Can you think of a reason to send Trevor back to the big house ahead of us?” she whispered. “I’d like a word with you alone.”

  Wyatt shut the stall door, thinking. “Did Trevor like Aunt Lou’s chicken?” he whispered back.

  Gabby nodded. “Was there anyone who didn’t?”

  Wyatt smiled and looked for Trevor. The boy had wandered across the concrete alleyway. He was looking closely at an old weather-beaten saddle, lying on some hay bales.

  “Hey, Trevor!” Wyatt shouted. “Go and tell Aunt Lou that I want her to wrap up some Cajun chicken halves for you and your mom to take home! Would you like that?”

  “Yes!” Trevor answered.

  “Then get going before they’re all gone!” Wyatt said.

  “Great!” Trevor exclaimed. In no time flat, he had run from the barn and was well on his way back to the big house.

  As Wyatt and Gabby left the barn and started walking across the dewy grass, Wyatt turned to look at her. “So what’s on your mind?” he asked.

  When Gabby stopped walking, Wyatt paused alongside her. As she looked into Wyatt’s face, the moonlight highlighted his prominent cheekbones and strong jaw, causing him to look like some heroic statue that had been chiseled from solid granite. She suddenly thought that he was the handsomest man she had ever seen as he stood before her in that relaxed way of his. Then she caught herself and forced her mind back to the moment.

  “What you just did with Trevor,” she said. “It was wonderful. I haven’t seen him that happy since his father died.”

  Wyatt smiled. “Thanks. Horses and young people are good for each other. Trevor has a long way to go, but tonight was a start. Perhaps we might turn your young James Dean into a proper cowboy after all.”

  “Tell me,” Gabby said. “That business about Sadie licking Trevor’s palm—is it really a secret?”

  “It is,” Wyatt answered, “and I was happy to share it with him. Every boy needs to feel special in some way, and having a secret helps. I remember one time when Danny was eight years old. He and I—”

  Wyatt suddenly quieted. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for that to come out.”

  “That’s okay,” Gabby answered.

  Wyatt managed a little smile. “It seems that our eight-hundred-pound gorilla has shown up again. I must find a way of dealing with him. I’m pretty good at shooting alligators. Maybe I could just shoot him, too.”

  Gabby smiled thankfully. This time, it had been Wyatt who had put them more at ease. Even so, they each knew that becoming truly comfortable with each other might never be possible.

  As Wyatt stood looking at her, he suddenly realized that this was the first time they had been truly alone. It felt good, like something that had long been missing had suddenly returned, and was breathing new life into his soul.

  Reverend Jacobson had been wrong. Gabby wasn’t just a looker. She was truly beautiful. But she was more than that. She was honest, caring, and strong. And as Wyatt continued to look into her eyes, he realized something else. He had become attracted to this woman.

  But he also knew that he shouldn’t be. Despite how much he felt drawn to her, his wounds were still too deep, too overpowering, and, above all, too much like her own. Almost as quickly as his attraction had surfaced, his armor returned to again guard him from her, and keep him from violating Krista’s memory. It was a protective reaction so instinctive and forceful, he doubted it would ever leave him. Trying to overcome the conflict roiling in his heart,
he closed his eyes for several moments.

  Gabby noticed the change in him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Wyatt nodded. “Sorry,” he answered. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”

  Jesus, he thought. I can’t afford to feel this way. It just wouldn’t work…there are too many old hurts to overcome…Krista’s memory is still too precious to me…

  Wyatt looked at his Rolex. It was nearly 10 P.M. “We’d best get back,” he said. “You must be eager to get home.”

  For Gabby, nothing could have been further from the truth. She wished she could stand there looking into his face all night, as the moonlight shone down and the silky dew gathered around them. But she couldn’t, and she knew it.

  “You’re right,” she answered. “Everyone must be wondering what has become of us.”

  They remained quiet as they walked back to the pool area. It was a pleasant kind of stillness that Wyatt found comfortable and forgiving. When they reached the pool, they saw that the visitors were leaving. Trevor was sitting beside Ram, happily feeding leftover chicken bits to Butch and Sundance. Aunt Lou had wrapped several chicken halves in aluminum foil for Trevor to take home. As Wyatt left Gabby’s side to bid farewell to the departing guests, Gabby walked up to Trevor.

  “Did you ask Mr. Blaine if you could feed the dogs?” she asked.

  “He didn’t need to,” Ram answered. “It was my idea. And for Christ’s sake, don’t call me Mr. Blaine.”

  Gabby laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Ram asked.

  “Seems like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” she answered.

  “I hereby lay sole legal claim to that complaint,” Ram said. “Hell, Wyatt’s still a pup. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘old’!”

  After a time Wyatt returned, holding a glass of Chardonnay in one hand. Gabby walked up to him and looked into his eyes.

  “It’s late, and we should be going,” she said. “Thank you for everything.” She turned and looked back at Ram. “And thank you, too, Ram.”

  Ram smiled. “That’s better,” he said.

  “Good night,” Wyatt said to Gabby and Trevor. “We’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  Trevor grabbed his precious chicken halves and he and Gabby headed for their car. As they went, Ram gave Wyatt a sly look.

  “Pull up a chair and sit a spell before you turn in,” he said. “You look beat.”

  Wyatt grabbed a pool chair and placed it alongside his father’s. He stretched his legs before him, crossing one boot over the other. This first day of New Beginnings had tired him right down to his bones.

  Ram looked at Wyatt’s wine and scowled. “Let me taste that,” he said.

  “What for?” Wyatt asked. “You hate wine.”

  “Can’t an old man change his mind once in a while?” Ram asked. “You’d best let me do so now, while I still have a mind left.”

  Wyatt sighed and handed over his glass. Rather than taste it, Ram chuckled and poured the Chardonnay straight into the grass. The delicate glass went straight down after it.

  “Okay,” Wyatt said. “I’ll bite. Do you think I’ve had too much to drink?”

  “Nope,” Ram answered. “But if I’ve taught you anything, I’ve taught you this: if you’re going to drink, do it right! No goddamned frog water! It’s nothing more than old grape juice! I told your mother the same thing the day she announced she wanted to install a wine cellar! Besides, the French don’t like us! If we’re smart, next time we won’t bail ’em out of their troubles!”

  Wyatt sighed. He was too tired to argue, but Ram obviously wasn’t. Where does he get all that energy? Wyatt wondered.

  Ram walked to the beverage table then returned with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and two glasses. He poured some into each glass then handed one to Wyatt before sitting down again.

  Wyatt relaxed into his chair and looked around. All the visitors had finally left; Aunt Lou and the three house girls were finishing up their cleaning. Butch and Sundance, their bellies full of chicken, lounged beside Ram’s chair. Sundance snored lazily.

  Wyatt took a sip of the bourbon and smiled. The old man is right, he thought. This is better.

  “Did Morg leave?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yep,” Ram answered. “Like the nitpicker that he is, he took all the forms the parents signed home with him. He’ll probably start filing them in his sleep.”

  “Could be,” Wyatt said.

  Ram sighed and shifted his weight in his chair. “I saw you skedaddle away with Gabby and Trevor. You raised some eyebrows, I assure you. Where’d you go?”

  “I introduced them to Sadie,” Wyatt said. “They looked like they needed a break from all the slings and arrows.”

  Ram nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that, too. It was to be expected, I guess. Did it help?”

  Wyatt nodded. “Trevor finally perked up. I’m sure that you could tell.”

  “And his mother?” Ram asked.

  “It helped Gabby, too,” Wyatt answered simply.

  Ram raised his bushy eyebrows. “Hmmm…so it’s Gabby, now, is it? My, my…”

  Wyatt took another sip of bourbon. “Jesus, would you lay off for once?”

  Ram chuckled softly. “Okay, son. But just for the record, I happen to think she’s one hell of a woman. A man could get lost in those eyes.”

  Wyatt said nothing while the tiki torches gently flickered, the smell of Aunt Lou’s chicken lingering in the warm night air. As his father’s words echoed in his mind, Wyatt closed his eyes and laid his head back against his chair.

  FIFTEEN

  I’M OUT,” WYATT said. After tossing his cards on the table, he took another sip of beer.

  “Me, too,” Jim Mason answered.

  Morgan was still in the game. Mercy was aggravating him, and he wanted to force her hand. “Call,” he said while tossing another ten dollars’ worth of chips into the pot. Big John also folded. Of the six players, only Morgan and Mercy were still in.

  Mercy turned over her hole card. She held two pairs, aces and eights. It was the “dead man’s hand,” so called because it was exactly what Wild Bill Hickok was holding when he was murdered while playing poker in Deadwood, Colorado. Mercy looked into Morgan’s best poker face.

  “Dead man’s hand,” she said. “That’s hard to beat, Morg. Let’s see ’em.”

  Morgan scowled and revealed his hole card. He hadn’t made his flush and had been trying to bluff her.

  Rather than chide Morgan again, Mercy decided that it was Wyatt’s turn. “You coward,” she said to him. “Couldn’t take it, huh? It’s about time I started getting even.”

  Wyatt again sipped his beer. “I didn’t have the cards. Knowing when to get out is just as important as knowing when to push it.”

  “Well, this time I pushed it pretty good!” Mercy exclaimed. Her tone was needlessly haughty, like she didn’t care who she might offend.

  Mercy gleefully raked in the chips. There had been about one hundred dollars in that pot. Wyatt was glad to see her win it, but he guessed that she was still in the hole. These were friendly games, but with moderate-to-high stakes. If the night went long, Mercy could lose more than she could afford. She was a good player, and she was known for clever bluffing. But her drinking sometimes made her reckless, causing her to bet foolishly.

  Mercy was usually good natured during the games, even when she lost. But tonight her mood was unexpectedly combative. Since the moment the game started, she had consistently downed one gin and tonic after another. After a time she brazenly decided that she no longer needed the mixer, so she brought the gin to the table and started drinking straight from the bottle. The more she drank, the more her temperament and judgment deteriorated. It was as if she had some ax to grind and was determined to take it out on everyone.

  Even so, Mercy was happy with her newly won pot. She giggled, then made a great show of clumsily stacking her chips with fingers that behaved like they had minds of their own.

  Morgan
looked at Wyatt and raised his eyebrows. Clearly, Mercy was getting on everyone’s nerves. Wyatt could break up the game and send everyone home, but he still felt like playing. When he looked at Morgan, he only shrugged his shoulders.

  It was nearly eleven P.M. The poker game had been in progress for more than four hours, but no one was ready to cash out. At the Flying B, a three-hour game was considered brief. Often they lasted five hours or more. It was not unheard of for the players to try to best one another until dawn.

  Poker games were a long-standing tradition at the ranch, and they were always held the first Tuesday night of each month. Ram had started the tradition some forty-odd years before, when Blaine & Blaine was still a fledgling law firm. Back then he shrewdly used the games to expand his growing network of friends and business contacts, and he was also sly enough to know when purposely losing was to his advantage. Although on his good days Ram could still play with the best of them, recently he was content just to watch sometimes. True to his ornery nature, he had no qualms about openly criticizing someone’s play. It also amused and pleased Ram to know that today’s poker games were still being held on the same old mahogany table as in days gone by.

  Wyatt loved poker because he considered it to be the only form of gambling that truly tested one player against another. He enjoyed Florida casino gambling from time to time, but never took it seriously because the odds were stacked against the player and the longer someone persisted, the greater the chance of losing. Even if a player won, over time he would surely give it all back, and probably more. But with poker, everything was each one’s own fault. The odds against each player were the same, making the game largely a matter of skill and nerve. Each person seated at this old table had plenty of both.

  Like tonight, with the usual players being Wyatt, Morgan, Mercy, Big John, Jim Mason, and Kyle Jacobs. Jim and Kyle were ranch hands of long standing. Along with Mercy and Big John, Jim was one of the hands Wyatt had chosen as an equestrian coach for New Beginnings. He was a tall, quiet bachelor in his mid fifties who had worked at the ranch for some thirty or so years. Kyle was a married Boca native in his midthirties.