Thief of Happy Endings

by Kristen Chandler

  * * *

  I find Justin in the barn around sunset, organizing feed. He’s wearing a long-sleeve shirt to keep the hay off and sweating clear through it. Even with the sun going down it’s like four hundred degrees in here. Okay, maybe three hundred seventy-five.

  I walk up behind him. He turns and stares at me, puffing hard.

  “I’ll help you,” I say.

  “I’m almost done. Don’t worry about it.”

  “No. I’ll help you.”

  He takes his gloves off and rubs his red face. He looks out the entryway after me, then looks me over again.

  I say, “Let’s keep this short. It’s hot in here. I said I’ll help.”

  “I thought you said I was reckless.”

  “You are. I’m not doing this for you.”

  “I figured that. You know how to whistle yet?”

  “I thought maybe we could stay together this time.”

  “Together?” Justin pauses, like he wants to say something but doesn’t. We both stand there sweating and not talking.

  Finally, he says, “Yeah. All right. Tonight. Up at the pasture at eleven.”

  * * *

  At 10:52 I arrive at the mustang pasture. I walked faster than I meant to. I look around. My heart is racing. And not because of the walk up the hill. The horses are all there but one. I look all around the bluff, keeping as quiet as possible to hear footfalls. All I hear are the mustangs in their pasture. The moon is where it’s supposed to be. I am where I’m supposed to be. I look at my watch again. Roanie walks over to me and nickers. Why am I surprised?

  Justin and Goliath are gone.

  * * *

  When I come back Banner is lighting a cigarette right inside the tent. So much for not smoking. I don’t look at her. I can’t stand to. She gets up and walks over to my cot and sits next to me, dangling the cigarette in her graceful fingers. “Why do you try so hard, Cassidy?”

  “Try what?”

  “To make people happy. To make everything work out. You know it won’t.”

  I don’t know what Banner is talking about, or what she knows about what Justin is doing. It makes me sick to think he may have told her about tonight, too. It makes me sick to think they’re together. “Why shouldn’t I try to make people happy?”

  “Because trying to make people happy makes people miserable.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that. People make it that way.”

  “Gawd.” She pulls the cigarette out in front of her and looks at it. “And to think you nearly made me quit smoking.”

  “I did what?”

  “Well, not just you. It’s all this bullshit fresh-air, clean-living rah-rah. But it’s not like I don’t know what’s waiting for me at home. Same old, same old. Daddy on his high horse and Momma waving the Confederate flag of ‘What Will the Neighbors Say.’ And me being the moody dropout.”

  “You dropped out?”

  “I sure did. Stopped going last semester.”

  “Me too,” I say. “Well, sort of. I stayed in bed for the last couple of weeks and flunked.” This tender confession doesn’t mean I like Banner. Just because we have this in common. But it’s surprising—to have anything in common with the person who’s making my life hell.

  “Wait . . .” says Banner. “I thought you were on scholarship.”

  “Scholarship recipient sounds better than charity case.”

  Her voice lifts, like she thinks I’m lying. “Wait. You? You flunked out? You’re, like, relentlessly good and hardworking.”

  I know she doesn’t mean this as a compliment, but it still surprises me. “You think I’m relentlessly good?”

  “Please. That shit with the apples? And the way you bust your hump around here? God, you even do stuff for me, and you hate me. It’s excruciating. But don’t worry. I’ve seen how much good it does. I’m back to smoking.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Good girls finish last. Haven’t you noticed?”

  I’m not sure exactly what she means. Maybe that she has Goliath and Justin under her red spell. Yeah. She probably means that. But in a way I can’t explain, her thinking that just proves to me that she’s wrong. I’m not a good girl. At all. I’ve lied to every person I care about this summer. And I’ve screwed up more than I’ve fixed. But hearing her say I’ve finished last makes me realize something. If my objective is to get Goliath sold, I’m doing that. As long as he and Justin get back okay, that is.

  I say, “I guess it depends on the finish line, doesn’t it?”

  Banner blows smoke into the air. “You’re incurable, you know that?”

  Sometimes it’s nice to be insulted by Banner.

  “Good night, Banner.”

  “Good night, Cassidy.”

  I move to the stump outside the tent. It’s flat but not comfortable. At least I can lean against the tree behind it. I wrap up in a blanket so it’s not too cold. Maybe when Justin comes in I can help him. I know he’ll be back. Mostly I just want to be outside where I can breathe and see the stars and know when he gets here.

  After an hour or so, I hear something.

  It’s a deer.

  I curl up on the stump and close my eyes, and then it’s morning.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  EVERYBODY GETS UP in the dark to load for the auction. Darius and Kaya have borrowed trailers from the BLM to load the horses. We’re all supposed to help. Including the youth wrangler.

  Ethan storms up to me. “Where’s your boyfriend? We got work to do.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I say.

  “Well, whoever he is, go get his lazy ass up.” Ethan is in no mood for slackers this morning. I wonder how he’s going to feel if I open that cabin door and Justin isn’t there.

  I walk up to his cabin slowly. I just don’t know if I’m ready for what happens if he isn’t there. Justin saunters out before my hand hits the door.

  “Hey,” he says. Like everything is peachy.

  “Hey,” I say.

  He walks past me to the trailer.

  “Thanks for ditching me.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says, still walking.

  I’m spitting mad and euphoric at the same time. Maybe the mustangs are good, too. I worried for nothing. Everything is fine. But as he walks away I see his left arm is slack and dragging. I notice he has work gloves on before he needs to. Everything is not fine.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “I’m fine,” he says sharply. “Let’s get to work.”

  * * *

  Getting nineteen mustangs into trailers is no easy thing. Coulter makes it more chaotic by yelling directions with lots of loud profanity and personal insults. I try to keep my eyes off Justin’s arm. I distract myself by watching the ranch entrance for headlights and sirens.

  Right before we all get into the truck, Justin corners me in front of the chicken coop. “Look. I’m sorry I lied about taking you. I didn’t want you to get involved.”

  “Practically everyone here is involved if you get caught.”

  “They tied the white mare up inside the holding pen like bait. She could have hung herself if I hadn’t shown up. After I let the horses go I did a little construction work. It will be a while before that pen holds horses again.” He sounds proud of himself. Like this is a joke.

  So he took the time to wreck the place. Because letting the horses go wasn’t enough heat. I look at his arm and shake my head. They are going to find him now. If they find him, they’ll blame Coulter. After all our hard work. After everything.

  I look at the chickens running at my feet. They’re scared by all the yelling and rushing around on the property this morning. It’s not quiet like it should be this time of day. But there’s nothing they can do about it. I walk away from their clatter, and from Justin, toward the trail
ers. I have work to do.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  THE SUBLETTE COUNTY fairgrounds are in Big Piney off highway 189. And they are a trailer traffic jam, even in the parking lot. The population of Big Piney must triple with all the contestants and their families and the people who come from all over to see if they can find a horse they want to take home. To make matters ridiculous, there’s also a carnival being set up on the edge of the grounds. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you want going on next to an arena where twelve-year-olds are showing mustangs.

  We park and get all our horses out and tied up. Everywhere you can hear people hollering to one another and horses whinnying. The air smells like diesel, fly spray, and horse manure. Also cotton candy. The cotton candy smells okay.

  Inside the fairgrounds building there are stalls, a large and small arena, offices, and concessions. All the outside noises get compounded by the echo inside the giant barn. The announcers are already blaring out instructions for the day. I can’t imagine a better place to make kids and horses nervous wrecks than this one.

  They start vet checking our horses as soon as we arrive. Every horse has to be certified healthy for sale and moved to a stall so the public can come browse between classes. There are four divisions, and all the contestants have to be registered. Props have to be set up. Horses and people have to be polished and buffed one last time. We move as fast as we can while still trying to keep the horses calm.

  Justin stays far away from me. I keep telling myself to concentrate on the horses and the auction. I can’t get distracted.

  Because we’re such a huge group, they stick us at the end of the building. Kaya, Alice, and Charlie have painted plaques for each stall telling a little about each horse. Ethan and Scotty and that crew have done all the wood- and metalwork. Devri and her girls have tricked out every mane with braids. The mares all have ribbons, and the geldings all have leather ties. No one else we see even has their horses’ hooves blacked yet. It feels good to know that when people come into this barn to see horses, our horses own it.

  As I’m putting all the horses in their stalls I notice we have two extra stalls on the roster that haven’t been assigned to anyone. Kaya is nearby. “What are these stalls for?”

  “The girl that didn’t come, the one who would have been your roommate, and Dalton’s horse. They already booked out the stalls for us, so we had to keep them.”

  I look at the two empty stalls. For some reason all the emotions I’ve been carrying around this summer seem to collide inside me as I look at those empty spaces. I think of all the horses we have just unloaded and prepped for the classes. It makes me feel like I’ve done something with my summer that matters. I hope Coulter gets to keep doing it.

  “Hey. Just out of curiosity, did you talk to Justin last night?” asks Kaya.

  “What?” This isn’t how Kaya asks a question. Nothing is just out of curiosity with her. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she says. “Are you two still together?”

  I shake my head. “We were never together. I was just talking to him that night you came over.”

  “It wasn’t night, Cassidy. It was three in the morning.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t sleep very well some nights.”

  “I’ve noticed,” she says. “I bought you something for today.”

  “You bought me something?”

  Kaya pulls a tube of lipstick out of her back pocket. The silver tube reflects the light of the breezeway lamp. She turns it over and shows me the tiny words printed on the bottom of the tube. “Outlaw Red. I thought it would look great with your dark hair and those outrageous green eyes of yours. There’s a bathroom down the hall.”

  I look at the tube. “I’ve never really worn red lipstick before.”

  “Since when has that stopped you this summer?” She looks at her watch. “Come on.”

  * * *

  “Cassidy!” says Alice, when I walk back to meet her for our yearlings. “What did you do to yourself?”

  “Kaya said I needed to spruce up like the yearlings. Is it too much?” Kaya went a lot further than the lipstick once we got in the bathroom. She pulled out her entire show bag and went to town on me.

  “You look . . . gorgeous. Kaya did that?”

  My face goes hot. “Maybe she’ll do it for everyone. She said I looked peaked.”

  “Are you and Justin fighting?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me about Justin?” I ask, looking around.

  “He was trying to find you. He seemed upset.”

  Worry tightens in my chest. “Where did he go?”

  Alice glances over at Banner. “He said he wanted to talk to you after the yearling classes.”

  I look over at Banner, too. She has her hair tied up neatly in a bun. She and her mustang look amazing together. The perfect couple. She is smiling so big it’s startling. She hasn’t done a lot of smiling this summer. It looks good on her, like everything else.

  “Hey, Banner. How are things?”

  “They have never been better. You’re so fancy, Cassidy. Did you get a makeover?”

  I don’t take the bait for a change. “Yeah. Have you seen Justin?”

  “Justin? I must have misplaced him.” Her voice is easily two octaves higher than normal.

  I tell myself not to jump to conclusions about Justin. She could sound this happy for a million reasons. Like dead puppies. Or the crushed dreams of little children. “Kaya wants to talk to him,” I say.

  “Oh, he’ll turn up,” she says. “It’s showtime!”

  * * *

  The classes for conditioning and handling require contestants to take their yearlings into the round pen with a judge and release them, then come back and catch their horses with halters and show the judge how they walk, trot, stop, and back. The judge asks a few questions and checks out how healthy the horse looks.

  Roanie shows like a dream. She does everything I ask her to do. After I release her, she comes right back to me. The crowd literally swoons when she comes up and drops her head in my armpit. The announcer says, “Now, there’s a horse to break a girl’s heart.”

  I want to yell at him. Roanie would never break anybody’s heart. Humans are the only creatures stupid enough to do those kinds of things.

  The judge only asks me one question. “What’s the best thing about this little mare?”

  “She’s not a teenage boy.” Honestly. I say that. To the judge.

  The judge laughs, and he writes something down on his clipboard.

  When the class is over Roanie gets third place. That ought to get her some attention at the auction. And I get a white ribbon with the word THIRD stamped on it. It’s freaking beautiful.

  The classes for the trail events don’t go quite as well for Roanie. She’s bothered by all the clapping from the audience, and she skitters away from the plastic tarp that is part of the obstacle course. But Alice’s and Ethan’s horses light it up. Both teams stay sweet and settled the whole time. Ethan takes first, and Alice takes second. Which is not bad for a girl who used to keep her head in her coat and a guy whose horse started out as stubborn as a ketchup stain.

  The funny part about it is that Scotty takes sixth. All that groundwork he didn’t want to do paid off for him as well. His nanny will be so proud.

  What’s weird is that Banner’s horse doesn’t win anything. Banner seems like she couldn’t care less about the whole day. She forgets the patterns in both classes. I mean, she looks amazing. But it’s like someone turned on a happy light and her eyes still haven’t adjusted. Every time I talk to her she just says something that doesn’t make a bit of sense and smiles.

  The final class of the day for the yearlings is the freestyle. In this event we all have the option to dress our horses in costumes. Kids can bring their own props as long as they don’t explode. Some contestan
ts do a Wild West theme, or water theme, or whatever works around the trick their horse is going to do. We didn’t have a ton of material to work with at the ranch, but I did manage to make a tinfoil crown for Roanie that she lets me put on her head. And she puts her front feet on a wood block and bows her head. It’s cute. But not cute enough to win anything.

  And then there’s Charlie. He waltzes his horse out with a lion’s mane made out of potato sacks and has him chase a cardboard zebra on the end of a wooden stick around in a circle. The crowd goes bonkers. As well they should. There ought to be a grand prize for Charlie and his horse. And a talent scout. A blue ribbon and twenty-five dollars will have to be enough.

  The in-hand classes are exhausting and long. I promise myself all morning that as soon as I have a break I will find Justin and talk to him without getting mad. But when I finally get time to breathe, Justin is nowhere to be found. And neither is Banner.

  All the other campers get together and eat greasy cheeseburgers for lunch, except Kaya, who looks like she’s already got indigestion. Okay, I don’t eat one either.

  Kaya says, “Coulter will be in the office if you need anything. I have to run an errand.”

  I follow her out. “What’s going on, Kaya?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “You did great today. I was so proud of you. You make the best of a horse because the horse matters to you.”

  “Thanks,” I say, as she hurries away from me to her truck.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I WALK ALL over the barn and go back to the trailer. Still no sign of Banner or Justin. Coulter stops me when I’m about to go look over by the carnival.