Thief of Happy Endings

by Kristen Chandler

  After I work with Roanie I decide to apply the “change lesson” to myself and go out to the small arena where Banner is riding Goliath. Justin is leaning against the fence on the inside, watching them both intently. He doesn’t look up when I approach. It seems appropriate that I’m talking to him through a fence. Kind of a warm-up for when I visit him in jail.

  I put my arm on the rails and watch silently for a minute. I’m not sorry to say all three of them look way stressed. For some reason Banner is wearing spurs. Goliath needs someone to kick him with sharp metal like a fire needs a bucket of gasoline. And on top of it she’s bumping his nose with the bridle. Poor guy.

  “Why’s she doing that to his head? He hates it.” I say this loud enough for Justin to hear me through the fence. Banner can hear me, too, as she rides by, which I am fine with.

  A gust of wind blows up the dust in the arena. Justin drops his hat down to cover his face. It also makes it so he doesn’t have to look at me when he talks. “She’s trying to get him to collect up, tuck in his head. Show horses are worth more.”

  “Nobody’s going to buy that mess,” I say. “Goliath doesn’t need spurs. He needs her to calm down. Why can’t she ride him like she did in the tryout?”

  Banner rides past again. “You lost, remember?”

  Justin smiles at that. Because it’s hilarious.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” I say. “He’s not a Lipizzaner. He’s a mustang.”

  Banner keeps hassling Goliath with her spurs. Goliath’s tail is ringing in time.

  I say, “He’s going to blow up.”

  Justin says to me, “Maybe you should go do something else for a while, Cass. I think you’re upsetting him.”

  “I’m upsetting him? Banner might as well light his tail on fire.”

  Justin nods. “I’ll get to work on that.”

  I walk away. It’s fine. I lost. Not my business. They both know a lot more than I do about horses. But behind my back I hear Justin yelling, “Banner, lay off the damn spurs.”

  * * *

  Justin and I avoid each other at dinner. But I avoid everyone. I try to eat my four hundredth serving of baked beans for the summer, but I can’t do it. I’m starting to dream about baked beans. I offer my food to Charlie.

  “No thanks,” he says. Tonight he’s looking especially dapper in a jean shirt and a belt buckle that looks like it comes from under my grandpa’s bed. “Surprisingly, I have lost my appetite for baked beans as well,” he says. “But you should try food. You’ve been out running around with those mustangs so much you’re starting to look slightly malnourished.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  He looks at me seriously. “I heard about your mom and dad. That’s hard.”

  I might wince a little when he says this. For a horse thief I have a pretty poor poker face.

  After washing the dinner dishes, I walk down to the corrals.

  The sky has gone pink and orange. The cooler air is settling in for the night. Goliath is chomping down his hay, bullying the yearlings like usual. I lean against the fence. “Do you have a minute?”

  Goliath leaves his dinner and walks to meet me at the gate. He noses around but doesn’t seem too upset when I’m empty-handed. “Hey,” I say. “Thanks for letting me ride you. Sorry I blew it.”

  He hangs his nose in my face and lets it rest there.

  “The thing is, no matter what I do, in just a few days Coulter is going to take you off this mountain, and you probably won’t come back here. I won’t see you again, or even know what happens to you.”

  I don’t cry. That’d be stupid. I mean, he’s a horse.

  I look at big, granite-colored Goliath and the mountain. He belongs here. At least one of us should get our happy ending. I look at the gate. It’s just one stupid piece of metal that stops Goliath from being where he was before. Free. I reach up and scratch Goliath’s neck. Then my hand runs across the Arabic-looking code burned under his mane.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. And I really am. Because as I touch these symbols I know that Goliath is not a wild horse anymore. He’s stamped with a return address. He eats apples out of my hands. He’d be recaptured in a week. And he’d get sent to Rock Springs instead of the auction. They’ll never take all the mustang out of him, but the fix is in.

  I think about what’s going to happen at the auction. The real purpose of why we’re going. Even more than the yearlings, Goliath has to show well. Adopting a four-year-old is a risk most people aren’t willing to take. And he needs an owner who will value what he is.

  “No matter who shows you, Goliath, you have to perform like a champion.”

  I see Coulter coming up the trail. He walks right up to me and slaps me on the back. “Did you see her ride today? He looks like a maniac with her on his back.”

  “Is that my fault?”

  “Hell, Cassidy. Any idiot can see you’ve got him eating out of your hand. You’re going to have to teach Banner whatever you did to get that jughead to like you.”

  “I was just thinking that.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Cassidy. You’re a genius. Now fix it.”

  I walk back to camp and find Mr. Sanchez. I hate what I’m about to do, but I’m going to need more apples.

  * * *

  That night I come back with Banner to the corral. Goliath likes the apples from her hand as much as mine. It about kills me.

  “This is what you’ve been doing in your pj’s?” she asks. “Seriously?”

  “Otherwise he whinnies. All night long sometimes.”

  “You walk all the way out here, and you and Justin stand around and watch him eat? That’s it? That’s so sad,” she says.

  I try to think beyond Banner. It’s not about her either. “We ride him, too. He’s sweet on the trail. If you’re easy on the rein and give him some space, he has it in him to show well.”

  “You’ve been riding him on the trail in the dark? You’re crazy and sad, Cassidy,” says Banner. “I like that. It’s like an old country song. With a dog that dies at the end.”

  I stroke Goliath. What makes some people think it’s okay to look for your weak spot and then drive a nail through it? What makes those same people so arrogant that it never occurs to them that other people have feelings at all? I have to do this for Goliath, but I don’t have to be a pansy about it.

  “Banner, you’re a pain in the ass. But you’re a better rider than I am. So while you’re out there making yourself look good, make Goliath look good, too. Listen to him. Don’t bully him. Sweet-talk him. Whatever it takes, okay?”

  Banner laughs. “Bless your heart. Look who grew a pair?”

  “That means no spurs tomorrow.”

  She raises her eyebrows seductively and shrugs her shoulders. Even when she’s kidding it looks good. “I’ll try anything once.”

  I walk away and let Banner and Goliath get acquainted.

  * * *

  The next day Banner and Goliath are better. She tells Justin she’s “getting the hang of things.” And she is. Once she stops bossing him around with her metal heels, Goliath stops fighting her, her riding skills kick in, and she makes him look good. Her body is graceful, measured, and refined when she rides. All the things I’m not. I learn from watching her, but it still kills me inside.

  Coulter watches for ten minutes and then slaps me on the back again. So much backslapping. “That’s my girl, Cass. Walk over obstacles. Adapt to change.”

  Sometimes even being good at change supremely sucks.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  THE VERY NEXT day Goliath has the best ride I’ve ever seen, even better than with Justin. Not only does he walk, trot, and canter for Banner, but he sidesteps four steps and then walks around the barrels. Alice and I applaud. For Goliath, not for Banner. Alice smiles at me approvingly since I told her about the apples
. Banner bows from her saddle. Because, of course, this is all her. Then she does something even more Bannerish. She hops off Goliath and walks over to us so she can stand right next to Justin, like, right next to him.

  Justin gets a funny look on his face, like there’s a fly nearby, but he doesn’t move.

  I stand still, trying to act natural. Except I’m naturally not okay with Banner even when she isn’t right next to Justin. And Justin still hasn’t spoken a word to me about that scene in his cabin. In fact, he’s barely spoken a word to me about anything since then.

  “Wasn’t that a great ride?” asks Banner. “We were completely in sync.”

  “He looked more natural in the bridle today. That was a good idea to get rid of the spurs,” says Justin. He still doesn’t move. They could press paper flowers they’re standing so close.

  Alice asks me, “Are you okay, Cassidy? You look like you need some water.”

  I need water. A few buckets full of it.

  “Can you believe it?” Banner asks loudly, putting her arm on Justin’s like a stacking chair. “After just a few days he’s riding like a perfect gentleman.” She twangs the last word so hard I see debutantes in ball gowns. She beams at Justin. “It’s like we read each other’s minds.”

  Justin nods to her and then looks over at me, like this is funny. Which it could be. But he doesn’t move. I count to one and then let go of the fence and walk away. I’ve had enough of listening to Banner’s southern gloat. And Justin is so entertained. Like he’s practically in sync with her. Because he’s such a perfect gentleman.

  Alice walks after me. “You know how Banner is.”

  “Uh-huh. She’s a conniving, competitive . . .”

  “Okay, but they were just standing together,” says Alice quietly.

  “This is Banner we’re talking about, right? She makes a T-shirt look like porn. Even Goliath has a thing for her. She could seduce scorpions. And I don’t see Justin putting up much of a fight.”

  Alice asks, “Would you like company? We could throw rocks at something red.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’d better overreact on my own.”

  She’s sweet and stops walking. “Hey, Cassidy. Just so you know. I think she did put the salt in the soup.”

  I don’t deserve a friend like Alice. I really don’t.

  * * *

  I walk up a bluff overlooking the ranch, and then I walk down. All I get is a headache. I finally go visit Smokey. He’s chewing in the pasture. I stand next to him and lean on his shoulder. I don’t really think. I just lean. I need to calm down, but I don’t. If Coulter wanted us to learn how to fail this summer, I am his poster girl. I should open my own camp. A half hour later I’m still leaning on Smokey when Justin strolls into the pasture to talk to me.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Yourself?” I ask. Because I’m still leaning, and I’m leaning toward being pissed.

  “I’m tired. That girl’s high maintenance.”

  I stroke Smokey’s mane. It’s filthy, but he likes it, so I do it anyway. “She looks like she’s getting over losing her boyfriend.”

  Justin digs a hole with his boot and spits in it. “She’s cheering up, I guess.”

  “Absolutely. You lose one, you pick up another one, right?”

  “Some people do it like that.”

  “My dad did.”

  “Your dad did what?”

  “Picked up another. When he and my mom started to fight, he got a girlfriend. Or maybe he got a girlfriend and then they started to fight. I don’t know. One of those.”

  “That’s why they’re getting divorced? He had an affair?”

  “He told me the other day on the phone. I guess I suspected, because that’s what usually happens, right? But not my dad, you know. That’s what I used to think. Not my dad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Smokey shifts his weight and moves to another part of the pasture. I wouldn’t want to stand here either. I walk toward the fence and lean against it, but it’s not as soft as Smokey so I stand on my own two angry feet. I try to separate what we’re talking about, but I fail at that, too. “People just lie, right? We all have secrets. So we lie. And then we cheat because we can’t admit what liars we are.”

  “Cass.” He steps toward me, but I step away. “Not everyone is like that.”

  “Really? That demo I just saw in the arena with Banner is supposed to make me feel confident? I’m pretty sure everyone is like that.”

  “Come on, Cass. Don’t make this what it isn’t. Shit happens.”

  I kick the fence. “I just told you my dad had an affair and your response is ‘shit happens’?”

  Justin moves backward, keeping his distance. His shoulders are up and his hands start moving even before his lips do. He looks pissed now, too. “Shit does happen. People lie and cheat. Nice people get sick, and little kids starve to death. Cass. You know this. I’m sorry about your dad. But don’t make this something it isn’t.”

  We both breathe hard and stare at each other.

  “Exactly. Something it isn’t. I’m leaving at the end of the summer anyway.”

  “Yes, you are,” he says. He shakes his head at me, and then he looks off in the direction he came, like he has other things to do. But then he starts tapping his boot like he can’t stop, and it gets faster and faster.

  I want to say something. No, I want him to say something. I want him to say that I’m not some shitty summer hobby he uses to pass the time in between horses. But why can’t I say that? I just can’t. Because I’m a mess for sure, but more than that, I need Justin to honestly talk to me.

  When he finally does talk, his voice is loud and uneven. He reaches out his hand to the fence, which is maybe nothing, but it makes me feel trapped. Crazy trapped. “Why don’t you just trust me for a minute?”

  I move his hand out of my way, and then I kind of lose it and say exactly what I’m thinking. “You want to talk to me about trusting you? You have scars all over your body you won’t tell me about.”

  Justin’s eyes flare and then his face goes dark. Like I’ve hit him, and I guess I have. I’m sorry, but I’m not. He looks at me like I’m dirt. Like I’m nothing. Just some worthless girl who got too close. He says, “I told you I got those riding.”

  I hate that our fighting about Banner is getting dragged into whatever happened to Justin growing up, but it boils down to the same thing. We don’t trust each other, and we aren’t going to start.

  I say, “I’m going to leave now, okay?”

  “You’re just using this as a way to hide that you’re too scared to go after the horses with me. That’s fine. You go back to your tent. Climb in your bag and hide. That’s what you do, hide.”

  I’m stunned by how intentionally cruel that is. That’s what he’ll do to cover those marks on his back. “I’m not the one hiding, Justin.”

  He kicks his boot in the dust. “I was tired of babysitting you, anyway. You’re just a sheltered little kid. Playing cowboy. Plenty of girls to do that with around here.”

  I don’t need to say anything now. We’re done talking. All done. Turns out my mother was right about one thing: you just can’t love some people. They won’t let you.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  THE LAST FEW days before the auction float away like dandelions gone to seed. The warm wind blows through the draw in the morning, and the day disappears. We all hustle around putting the finishing touches on our horses’ show routines. Sweating. Swatting flies. Cracking lame jokes. Coulter asks me to help the kids like Danny and Granger who aren’t quite ready. Devri and Charlie help everyone with their costumes, and Alice and I run around trying to find what all the horses need for tack. I’m glad for the distraction. I stay as far away from Banner and Justin as humanly possible.

  Banner never goes to see Goliath at night, so I do.
What surprises me is that Banner sleeps like a baby at night now. I haven’t seen her with a cigarette since she won the competition. As if she’s suddenly exhausted after a summer of scowling at me in the dark. Or maybe she finally has what she wanted.

  I have no such luck. I hear Goliath whinny, and I walk the trail.

  I don’t figure it will hurt Goliath to be ridden outside the arena a few more times before the auction. I tell myself it’s good for him because it’s bareback trail riding, but the truth is I need to ride him a few more times before he’s gone. We don’t go far. We stick around the bluff where the other mustangs are in the pasture. Most of the time we just walk. We hear crickets and faraway coyotes, but it’s really just me and Goliath under that big Wyoming moon. Maybe I should feel wild or reckless riding alone in the moonlight, but it isn’t like that at all. It’s more like being part of something. Like I belong here. Like I’m free.

  I wonder as I ride if that’s what freedom is for Goliath, too. When a horse runs with his herd, he’s doing what he was born to do, and that makes him belong. When he rides with a partner, he belongs, too. I hope the person who buys Goliath gets that.

  * * *

  The last day before the auction each horse is polished and trimmed and brushed. They all look beautiful, cared for, and adoptable. Roanie shines up so pretty I wish for the first time in weeks that I had a phone so I could take her picture. When she nuzzles me she smells like fresh-cut hay.

  Besides primping horses, my main job is to avoid Justin. I also try to avoid thinking about the gather and Justin going after the horses tonight, but it turns out I stink at that. My mind is on a worst-case-scenario loop. The only way to stop Justin is to tell Coulter, and I can’t do that. Both Coulter and Justin have trusted me. So basically there doesn’t seem to be a right answer. I finally opt for the wrong answer that I can live with.