Scotty says, “I could’ve had my head kicked in, you mean old bastard.” I don’t like Scotty, but he has a point. A good one. “I’m out of here.”
Coulter laughs. “Your nanny’s going to be disappointed in you, Scotty.”
Kaya says, “That’s enough, Coulter.”
Coulter looks bored. “No one has a suggestion for Scotty here? How can he get the horse across and conquer his fears?”
I look at Justin. He knows how to get the horse across. He only looks at the ground. Banner glares at me. “You got something to say, Cassidy?”
Justin looks up and shakes his head at me.
Scotty is already walking away. His guys are all elbowing each other. Scotty’s best friend, Dalton, says, “He’s crying.”
This is ridiculous. Tequila is about as mean as a wombat. If Scotty goes home, that’s one more horse that goes to the holding facility in Rock Springs with a crap chance of getting adopted.
“Hey.” I feel like a Labrador, but I chase him.
Scotty pushes me out of the way. “Get away from me, freak.”
“Get Tequila across the water on the ground. Then ride him back.”
Scotty stops walking. “What do you know, freak? You’re afraid to even sit on a horse.”
I shrug my shoulders and back away. “That’s how I know.”
Scotty takes three more uneven steps and then storms back and grabs the horse from Justin. Tequila doesn’t want to go near the water at first. But after Scotty slows down, Tequila does, too, and then he bends his muzzle and steps a hoof into the stream. Scotty’s boots get wrecked. His whole body is soaked by the time the horse is across. Then Scotty sloshes up onto Tequila and walks him back across the creek.
“You couldn’t be any more adorable, could you?” says Banner.
“Who’s next?” asks Coulter. “Everyone’s going to cross today.”
Dalton raises his hand. I don’t care much for Dalton either. Maybe it’s his sculpted eyebrows, but it’s probably because I heard him call Alice a dumpling on the second day. “I’ll go,” he says.
Coulter hesitates. “Okay, Dalton. But I need you to listen to me now.”
Dalton nods his head.
“We just had a little scare. It’s important that you don’t rush into this. Brandy is a good little mare, but you have to go slow. You got that?”
“Got it,” says Dalton, already walking to Brandy.
“I’m not playing about this. You give that mare a second or she’ll buck you. You just give her time, and she’ll get you across.”
A few boys fist-bump Dalton, who’s acting like he’s all about it. Scotty gives Dalton a big grin, but I wonder if he’s worried that Dalton’s about to make him look bad.
Dalton mounts his bay mare, Brandy, gracefully. She’s one of my favorites. She’s like a little race car the way she zips around the arena. “Let’s go,” he says, leaning forward and tapping her with both legs. Not hard, but harder than he should.
Brandy zips up to the water’s edge neatly and starts to go in. Dalton sits her like a general. I’d kill to be that confident on a horse. A few people cheer. Dalton raises his left hand like he’s a bronco rider. He’s totally rubbing this in Scotty’s face. Brandy gets a few feet farther into the shallow water, then stops. Dalton looks startled. Coulter moves toward the water. “Easy, son.”
Dalton kicks Brandy again, this time hard. She doesn’t move. He unloads on her with both legs. “Go! Go!” he yells.
Coulter yells, “Stop, Dalton!”
Just as Coulter yells, Brandy explodes up into the air. All four legs eject upward, and her back arches. She comes down in a deeper pocket of the stream and goes up again. Dalton’s hand flies high into the air, and his body flops and jerks in the saddle. Brandy stumbles on the rocks when she comes down and barrels forward, dropping her front left leg, nearly going down in the stream, and then rights herself, terrified. She jumps toward the other side of the water and falls forward on the muddy shore, throwing Dalton underneath her, then she bounds up and runs into the trees, reins flying.
Dalton lies on the ground and screams. Everyone’s horse freaks out, except Smokey, who stands almost completely still. Kids shout at their horses and at one another. I just stand there holding on to Smokey, trying not to keel over.
Coulter bounds across the stream like he’s been shot out of a gun. Darius is right behind him. Kaya calls to the rest of us. “Stay calm. Get your horses under control. Now.” Her voice is hard and loud. “Now!” Justin rides across the stream on his buckskin, past Dalton, and goes after Brandy, who is long gone in the trees.
Coulter gets over to Dalton, who is flailing in pain. Dalton grabs at his leg but can’t seem to control his body. He keeps screaming and sobbing and grabbing at his knee. Coulter scoops Dalton up in his arms and carries him across the water. Darius runs back across the stream, faster than I can believe he’s capable of, toward the big house.
For some reason my brain empties. The thing I was afraid of has happened. Someone is seriously hurt. Dalton’s leg is almost certainly broken.
It’s like there’s an echo it’s so empty in my head. I go over to Danny, who is completely losing it. His horse is backing away from him, and he’s crying. “Hey, it’s okay,” I say. I don’t know what else to do but take the reins from Danny and stand there. Danny’s horse doesn’t like me either, but at least I can help Danny start to pull it together so he doesn’t get hurt, too.
I look over at Alice. She’s standing close to her horse. Her face is pale, but her head is in the right place. She has a muddy streak on her sleeve and a little clod of something in her shiny black hair. Alice is tough in her own way.
Ethan walks around making sure everyone is okay, while Kaya gentles down the horses that are causing the most trouble. Charlie’s horse is still snorting and stamping, but Charlie’s totally handing him. Ethan comes over to Danny and puts his arm around him right in front of everyone.
Ethan says, “Listen, everybody. I’ve seen this before. He’ll be okay. Everybody just calm down.”
Scotty nods and wipes his face with his sleeve.
* * *
Ethan and Kaya get everyone down to the barn and get the horses put away. Coulter and Darius splint Dalton’s leg and get him in Coulter’s truck before anyone says good-bye. They’ll have to drive two hours to the hospital in Jackson Hole in case they have to operate. I wouldn’t want to be in that car ride.
We get the word over dinner that Dalton’s okay. His mom is flying in. But his leg is fractured, and he’s going home. I rehear all the crummy things Coulter said about going home and feeling like a bigger failure than when we started. Dalton was stupid, but it’s not like I’ve never been stupid on a horse.
“He shouldn’t have kicked her,” says Danny, who’s basically been sitting next to me at the picnic table since Dalton got hurt. “Coulter told him not to.”
Scotty says, “Coulter’s an ass. If I didn’t have to do rehab, I’d go home right now myself.”
Mrs. Sanchez dishes up another plate of fried chicken that everyone just stares at. “Cómanlo.”
I poke at the food on my paper plate. “Will his mustang get sent to Rock Springs now?”
Justin is sitting at the end corner of the table by himself. “Yep. That’s how it works around here.”
Everyone looks at Justin, surprised that he is joining the conversation, I think. Of course, that’s all he says. We all go back to staring at our food, but no one seems hungry. Except Banner, whose appetite seems positively normal. When Mr. Sanchez brings out the final, generous attempt at distraction, little pieces of chocolate cake, Banner leans over to Charlie and points. “Are you going to eat that?”
Charlie looks at Banner and rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “It’s all yours.”
* * *
I stay awake almost the whole
night, seeing Dalton’s accident over and over. Probably everyone else does, too. One minute everything was fine, and the next minute Dalton’s screaming. First I worry about Dalton, like that helps anyone. Then I worry about Dalton’s mustang. He’ll have to go to the holding facility. Then I worry about myself, and it feels like I’m starting all over again.
I don’t go out to feed Goliath. He whinnies, but I don’t go. Sometime I’m brave. Sometimes I’m not.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE BLM TRUCK is out in front of the big house with a trailer. With Dalton’s mustang in it, I guess. Coulter is back from Jackson. I see him and Officer Hanks standing inside the window of the dining room when I go to clean the outhouses. They both have their hands up in the air. Kaya and Darius are sitting out on the porch drinking coffee, which they never do at this time of the day. Almost like they are guarding the door or something.
Ethan comes up behind me. “Man, if Coulter didn’t have it bad enough already, you see that BLM guy is here?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Any idea why? I mean, he doesn’t care if kids get hurt up here, right?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think it’s good, Colorado.” Ethan scratches his hairy chin. “You might need to go into the big house to get toilet paper though, right? ’Cause, we could be out.”
It occurs to me that one of the reasons that everyone likes Ethan is that he pays attention more than the rest of us do. He collects information about people like other kids collect World of Warcraft scores or moves on the basketball court, which I find both impressive and mercenary at the same time. And something I wouldn’t mind being a part of.
* * *
I have to go all the way around to get into the back door without Darius and Kaya seeing me. I open the door carefully, but it still squeaks a little. Luckily, the two men inside are shouting now. “You think I want to be out here at this hour?”
“Look, Miles, I have a lot on my plate this morning. What you do with your free time is your business.”
“Free time? Half the county’s looking over my shoulder, telling me these horses are destroying their land, and the other half’s stealing my horses as fast as I round them up.”
“You want to talk to me about people looking over your shoulder? I just spent the night with a trial attorney from New Jersey whose son has a broken leg.”
“I’m sorry for your trouble, Tim, but this has to be looked into. I have ranchers who want to cull the whole herd. They’re even pushing the feds to thin the herds at Rock Springs. Things are getting ugly. So when I catch them and somebody lets them go . . . Can you imagine how that makes me look?”
“You’re in Wyoming now, Miles. No one gives a shit how you look. They care what you do. I am not letting your horses go. Why would I do that? Why would anyone do that?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Coulter grimaces. “I would not presume to tell you anything. It sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“Perfect. Even the people who work for the government won’t tell me anything. All right. You have it your way. But if you see that boss mare, I want you to notify me. Henry Helford thinks she’s the ringleader that’s been messing up his water hole.”
“It’s not the horses that mess up that water hole, it’s those overgrazing cattle. They’re so chemically engineered they can’t piss straight. And I’d be surprised if Henry could find his butt with both hands.”
I don’t hear exactly what Officer Hanks says in return. I have the toiler paper, and I think it’s time to get out of there before I laugh out loud.
Chapter Twenty-Two
WE HAVE LESSONS with the saddle horses right on schedule that afternoon. All Coulter says about Dalton is, “He’s going to be fine. That’s my first broken leg in twenty years at this ranch. But when I tell you to do something, you damn well better do it.” The next thing he says is, “Cassidy, get up on this horse.”
The sorrel gelding standing behind Coulter is sixteen hands, which is the way they measure horses for no good reason at all. In other words, he’s big. The other thing that should be noted is that his name is Highball.
I feel the muscle in my stomach constrict. “Sir? You want me to go first? Maybe someone else would be better.”
“You were pretty good with telling Scotty what to do yesterday. Let’s see if you can ride.”
It occurs to me as I walk over to Highball that the bad thing about doing something right is that it raises expectations. I look at the stirrup and wonder if my leg goes that high. I look at Coulter. He’s all smiles and moonbeams. The man is evil. “You have a problem, Cassidy?”
“No, sir,” I say.
“Cassidy, we always tell the truth at this ranch. Are you scared?”
“Spitless, sir.”
“Okay. Why don’t you tell us what you’re worried about?”
“I don’t want to get bucked off, mainly.”
“All right. Let’s take care of that right now. Hop on.”
I have to try three times to get on, I’m so nervous.
“Now. Take your feet out of the stirrups and spin all the way around on the saddle.”
I look at him. “I’ll have to let go of the saddle horn if I do that.”
“You will be okay, Cassidy. Do what I tell you to. I’ll stand right here and hold your horse.”
Highball sits quietly. I tell myself that this will be fine. That Coulter has the reins. But mainly I just force myself to move and not think. I pull my feet out, and using my butt to center me I lift my boots in the air and rotate all the way around. Highball is slow and easy to sit. When I get back to Coulter he says, “Good. You’re doing great. Now jump off.”
“What?”
“Trust me. You’ll be fine.”
I look down. It looks like a long way.
“Push up with your hand on the middle of the saddle and jump. Do it!” His voice is so stinking loud I feel like I have to, but also that I want to. I hate being a chicken. I liked how I felt when I rode Smokey. I tell myself I am not Dalton, and I come flying off the horse with both legs. I land on my feet. Dust flies. I stand up.
“Great work, Cassidy! Now get back on. I’ll keep holding the reins, and you reach up in the air.”
I get back on in one try. I’m feeling scared but better. I put my hands over my head while he leads the horse. I sit up like there’s a thread up my spine. I stay on.
“Now close your eyes.”
“Do what?”
Coulter turns to his attentive audience. “Yesterday is yesterday. Half of what we’re afraid of in this life isn’t half as bad as we think it’ll be.”
“What about the other half?” I say.
“It’s worse.” He turns back to me and uses that low, gravel voice. “You’ll have to trust me on this one. Trust me, and you will be fine.”
I close my eyes.
“Now we’re going to walk. You hold your hands out to the side like you’re balancing.”
Having my eyes closed actually helps. I can concentrate on what I’m supposed to be doing, and since Coulter has the horse I know I’m not going anywhere.
“Now put your hands over your head.”
Underneath me I feel the tip and pull of the horse’s body, the beats of the horse’s legs hitting the ground. I feel my body stretch up through my arms. I move along smoothly. My chest tickles.
“Great work, Cassidy. So good. Keep it up.”
We walk faster. I can hear the birds and crickets as I pass. I feel us going around the arena.
“Now put your heels down and really shove them down hard. No peeking. Put your hands all the way out, balance like before. Shoulders back. We’re going to trot. I’m right here with you, okay? You trust me?”
Trot? The tickle in my chest keeps expanding. I’m going off for sure. But the horse is being
good, and Coulter will stop him if I fall. “Yeah, okay.”
“Go Colorado!” I hear Ethan call.
“Hush,” says Coulter. “No distractions. Hands out now.”
I put my hands out, and Coulter clucks to Highball. His powerful body lifts up, but he has a super gentle, quiet trot. The beat of his legs changes. I’m bouncing, so I shove harder in my heels and straighten up taller. I take the bounce out through my hands and feet. All I hear is quiet. All I feel is the horse and nothing else.
“Cassidy!”
I open my eyes. I’m in the far end of the arena. Trotting. Coulter’s like ten feet away. The reins are tied to my horn. I’m trotting with no reins and no Coulter. My body goes stiff. I’m still moving.
“Cassidy! Say ‘whoa.’”
Highball drops to a stop as I grab the horn, like he’s controlled by Coulter’s voice. My guts come up in my throat. Coulter is at my side. Now, anyway. I could have ended up just like Dalton. I trusted Coulter. He is a mean old bastard.
“You did it! Cassidy. There aren’t one in a hundred kids that’ll do that. Look at you!” His face is beaming.
I jump off the horse.
“What’s wrong, Cassidy?”
I look up at Highball. At least I don’t hate him. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Actually, no, I won’t tell you what’s wrong. You figure it out.”
I take off my hat and go back to my friggin’ tent.
I know what I’ve figured out.
The minute a person tells you to trust them, you might as well stab yourself in the back and get it over with. You’d think I’d know this by now. You really frickin’ would.
* * *
THE WEEDS SMELLED like licorice on the trail by our house. It was blazing hot. When Kidd ran through the tall July grass, the grasshoppers erupted like popcorn.
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