Thrill.
She’d done it!
Shy Guy buried his muzzle in the bucket of water, scattering droplets everywhere. Hanna wrinkled her nose. She’d have to get him more water pretty quickly if he was going to be messy about it.
When he was done, Shy Guy looked up at her, ears perked—a thank-you, maybe? Hanna found herself nodding back to him.
It had never occurred to her how alike people and horses could be. Someone had hurt Shy Guy—and it had made its mark on him, the way hurt makes its mark on everyone.
Eventually, Hanna stood up. The horse watched her as she approached and put one hand on the railing.
He looked as if he might run; his entire attention was directed at her. But he didn’t move.
“I’m sorry somebody did this to you,” she said to him. His ears flicked back and forth, listening. “You didn’t deserve it.”
Something inside her—something alien and new and fearless—wanted to reach out and touch him. To comfort him. And to comfort herself.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
That night they had a free hour before lights-out while Madison drove into town to swim some laps. Cooking in the Colorado heat all day had drained Hanna, and she wanted nothing more than to read in peace.
“I can’t believe Hanna is getting another special new chore,” groaned Izzy, falling back on her bed with a thump.
Hanna turned a page of her book and pretended to read.
“What’s up with that white horse all covered in splotches, Hanna?” asked Rae Ann.
“He’s not white,” Hanna found herself saying. “He’s gray. White horses have pink skin under their hair. Gray horses like Shy Guy have black skin. And he’s not ‘splotchy’—Shy Guy is a dapple gray.”
Rae Ann tilted her head. “Shy Guy? That’s a weird name.”
“No, it’s not,” Hanna said. “Fletch gave it to him.” She pressed her lips together. She shouldn’t be telling these two any of this.
Izzy squinted at her. “He didn’t have a name before?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Hanna. Tell us.”
Hanna didn’t say anything and tried to keep her eyes on the book.
“Fine,” Izzy said. “I guess since you think you’re so special, we should give you special treatment, right?”
Rae Ann giggled. “So-o-o-o special!”
“Hey, Rae Ann,” said Izzy, turning away from Hanna, “know what would make her feel real special?”
Rae Ann opened her mouth but sensed she was walking into a trap and closed it.
“Putting some spiders in her bed!”
Spiders? Please.
Rae Ann’s smile faded. “Madison will get mad at us,” she said.
“Come on, goody-goody. Madison won’t find out.” Izzy waltzed to the cabin door. “I’m sure there are a few cobwebs hanging out here.”
“Izzy, stop,” said Rae Ann, following her. “I’m not going to put spiders in Hanna’s bed.”
“Why not? It’s funny.”
“It’s mean. And if you do it . . .” Rae Ann’s voice dropped. She sounded dangerous and very unlike herself. “I’m going to tell on you.”
Izzy halted mid-step, and they stared at each other. Hanna regretted the mean things she’d thought about Rae Ann. She had it where it counted.
“Fine. Tell on me, tattletale,” hissed Izzy. “You sound like a dumb little kid.”
Without replying, Rae Ann stalked back into the cabin and climbed onto her bunk. Izzy stood at the door like she wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Then she stomped outside and slammed the door behind her.
Rae Ann didn’t look at Hanna, but under her breath she muttered to herself, in her most childish voice, “Meanie head.”
After that, Hanna gave up trying to read. She fell asleep imagining Izzy stuffing spiders under her mattress, but she was glad it was her bed, and not Ma Etty’s.
Chapter Eight
The next day, the need to steal something and get away with it consumed Hanna. She could slip a hoof pick into her pocket right under somebody’s nose, or maybe swipe that pink halter she liked and stash it in her bag. Something to remember this place by.
But she’d feel bad stealing from the Bridles—and her mom would definitely find it once she got home. After discovering the goods under Hanna’s bed, her mom had started performing weekly room searches. Anything that Hanna couldn’t prove was hers was another tally on the “I’m So Disappointed in You” scorecard.
“Same thing again today,” Fletch told Hanna as the other kids finished breakfast and went out to get started on their ride for the day.
Right. Shy Guy. Hanna’s heart skipped a beat. No, it was a hop, a skip, almost a dance. She felt . . . excited to see him, not afraid.
Well, maybe a little afraid.
When she reached the corral, there he was, shining in the morning sun—its rays weaving through the fine silver threads of his mane.
Shy Guy’s head shot up when she appeared. His whole body angled toward her, short ears standing straight up like a rabbit’s.
“Good morning,” Hanna said in a low voice as she approached the corral fence. Shy Guy tensed up, like he might put some space between them, so she stopped where she was.
They stood like that, looking at each other, in what was becoming their ritual.
Hanna checked his bucket. Still full. Good. In one corner, stray bits of alfalfa were mixed in with the dirt. Fletch or Madison must have fed him earlier.
Good.
Hanna flopped down on the ground. Shy Guy shook his head and snorted, like he was displeased with the sudden movement, but he didn’t move away.
After a while, he grew bored and wandered off, nibbling in the dirt for the leftover alfalfa. Was this it? Was this really her job, to sit here all day? All she could do was gaze out at the landscape—the green mountains with distant snowcaps, the blue skies—or she could stare at Shy Guy.
She did a lot of staring.
An hour later, Madison came and sat down next to Hanna. She was out of breath and dusty. Shy Guy cast Madison a suspicious look from the other side of the corral.
“How’s it going over here?” she asked.
“Uh, I don’t know, fine? Should something be . . . happening? I’m just sitting here.”
“Good! No, that’s great. How’s he doing?”
Hanna shrugged. “Also fine, I guess.”
“Perfect. Keep at it.”
“I don’t really get how this is helping.”
“Ma Etty hopes that if he’s around people enough without stress, maybe he could trust us enough to let us trim his hooves without having to put him in a tilt and trim.”
“A tilt and trim?”
“Shy Guy won’t let anyone near his legs, but when we found him, his hooves were so long he couldn’t walk properly. The farrier had to bring over a tilt and trim—a metal cage we usually use on mustangs to prevent kicking—and put Shy Guy inside it, so she could turn him sideways and get to his hooves.”
Hanna gazed at Shy Guy with newfound awe. “That’s scary.” He must have been frightened, crammed inside a metal cage like that.
“I doubt he was always like this. Hanoverians are usually obedient and sturdy—the Germans used them in the military and to pull coaches. You couldn’t fight on a horse that spooked easy, could you?” She sighed. “I think he’s just been hurt so many times he’s forgotten how to trust people. Ma Etty thinks you can teach him that again, and then trimming up his hooves doesn’t have to be a big event.”
Hanna’s eyes widened. “Me? I don’t know anything about trust or horses or trimming hooves. I’m the worst person to choose!”
Madison shrugged. “Not my call. This all surprised me just as much as it did you.” She stood up and handed Hanna a water bottle. “You’re not a prisoner, though. Go to the bathroom, take breaks. It’s hot out here. You put on sunscreen?”
&nb
sp; Hanna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I did. Thanks, Mom.”
Madison laughed. “Okay. Remember, don’t get too close to him. I mean, give him water. But even though he’s pretty, I don’t want you to get hurt if he spooks.”
Hanna couldn’t believe they had put her, of all the kids, with the dangerous horse. What kind of crazy operation was this?
But, she supposed, it sort of made sense. She was the only one not participating in riding lessons. She was deadweight. Maybe she could put her time to good use.
“Okay,” said Hanna. “I understand.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
So the afternoon dragged on. And the next. And the next.
Soon Shy Guy started waiting at the fence when she returned with the full bucket of water. This afternoon, he’d even stepped aside so she could push it under the bars—but when she stood back up again, he was so close that the wind blew his long, coarse forelock hair into her eyes. She didn’t want to move backward too fast and surprise him, so she stood stock-still as his eyes locked with hers.
They were inches from each other, but Hanna didn’t budge.
Shy Guy turned his neck so his lips brushed the metal bars. His head was so big that the space between his nostrils dwarfed her whole hand. But in his brown eyes she didn’t see a horse that kicked or a horse that bit. She saw a horse that made funny faces when he wanted water and galloped through the trees at the bank of a creek for fun.
That feeling returned—that sensation of wanting to steal something, of breaking the rules, of making her own way and her own mistakes.
Remember, don’t get too close to him.
Hanna raised her hand, slowly, steadily, all in Shy Guy’s field of vision. He didn’t move. His ears were still forward, attentive. She settled the hand on the bars, near his head. It felt right.
Safe.
His lips started to move, like he was feeling out the texture of the metal. Then his neck turned, and he ran his lips along her fingers. For a split second Hanna thought, He could bite my fingers clean off.
But some part of her knew that he wouldn’t. So she turned her hand to face palm up, and he ran his nose along that too.
It was velvety soft, softer than she could have imagined. Gradually, she moved her hand up his long face. He ducked his head so her hand landed on the spot between his eyes where the fur swirled like a whirlpool. Hanna rubbed under his forelock, and Shy Guy nuzzled her arm right back.
He was so soft. Each movement of his head was gentle, as if he was afraid of breaking her or scaring her off.
Hanna thought maybe they each saw the frightened creature inside the other, wanting to break out.
“I’m sorry,” Hanna said to him. “I promise, whatever happened, I won’t let it happen again.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun was sinking behind the butte when a voice called her name.
“Hanna?”
Shy Guy’s head snapped up, startling her more than Madison had.
“Hanna, get down from there.”
Hanna realized how precarious her position must look and climbed off the fence.
Madison was standing with her hands on her hips when Hanna landed on the ground, sending up a little dust cloud. When Madison approached, Shy Guy’s ears flattened to his head and he backed away. She stopped.
“Whoa. Sorry.” She eyed Hanna. “I thought I told you not to get too close.”
Hanna ducked her head. “Sorry. My butt hurt from sitting on the ground, and he . . .”
“You’re all right, though?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. He had an itchy head and wanted me to scratch it.”
“Did he?” Madison phrased it like a question, but the corner of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. “So head scratches are a thing now?”
“I guess so.”
“Cool.” Madison glanced at her watch. “Well, you’re off the clock. You’ve got an hour of free time before dinner.”
“I think I’ll stay here,” said Hanna.
Madison frowned. “You sure? Josh is setting up the bean bag toss. He said he thought you might want to play.”
Josh had said that? Hanna glanced at Shy Guy over her shoulder. He stood dispiritedly on the other side of the corral, tail flicking the air.
“I think I’m still going to stay.”
Madison shrugged. “Okay. Your prerogative. I’m going to go help with dinner, so come find me if you need anything.” She turned to walk away and then stopped. “Oh, and Izzy is still out in the field with Fettucini, practicing the barrel race with her free hour. In case you see a horse running around.”
So Izzy was using her free hour to ride? She must be doing really well for Madison to trust her alone with her horse. Maybe she was already running barrels like a pro.
Of course a girl like Izzy would be, Hanna thought.
“Thanks,” she said, climbing back up on the fence. Shy Guy came back and rested his head against the bars near her hand. Madison watched them with a smile crawling across her face.
“Have fun,” she said and waved good-bye.
Chapter Nine
From her perch on the top bar of the corral fence, Hanna was enjoying the way the late afternoon sun turned the low-hanging clouds all sorts of pink, orange, and purple. She sat at just the perfect height to scratch between Shy Guy’s ears. When someone shouted off in the distance, she didn’t think twice about it—probably the ranch manager, Paul, yelling at one of his ranch hands in the milking barn across the way.
Then the shout came again, closer. Shy Guy backed away and stared at something behind Hanna.
She turned around on the metal railing and spotted Izzy, galloping toward them on her big chestnut horse. Fettucini, lathered in sweat, bumped into Hanna’s knees as Izzy sidled up to her. Hanna gasped and almost fell back into the corral. And now, with Izzy in the way, she couldn’t get down off the fence.
“Well, hello again, Princess Hanna,” Izzy said, her huge smile making her appear extra menacing. Shy Guy snorted nervously, his ears back. “I just beat my best time on the barrels.”
Hanna puckered her lips. She didn’t care an inch about Izzy’s barrel time.
“How’s your little ‘vacation’ going?” asked Izzy, urging Fettucini once again closer to the corral fence. With Izzy on her horse and Hanna on the fence, they sat at the same height, and Izzy’s haughty gaze met Hanna’s eyes. Shy Guy paced nervously inside the corral.
“Get out of here,” said Hanna, swatting at Izzy and her big red horse. She couldn’t do much else from up there. “You’re scaring Shy Guy.”
“Oh?” Izzy leaned closer, and Hanna leaned back, feeling her balance grow unsteady. “I don’t think it’s him who’s scared of me. I think it’s you.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “But Hanna,” she cried, “I’m half your size! What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” said Hanna, but the tremble in her voice gave her away.
Izzy’s grin widened. “You big wussy.” With that, she reached out, put her hand on Hanna’s shoulder, and shoved her backward.
Hanna’s arms pinwheeled as she tried to find balance or something to hold onto, but she only grabbed open, empty air. Her riding boots flew up in front of her, and somewhere behind her, Shy Guy let out a neigh.
Her back hit the ground hard inside the corral. A searing pain shot from her hips upward, and Hanna let out a cry that was horrible even to her own ears.
Worse, she was now inside the corral—with a potentially dangerous horse. Wincing, Hanna searched for Shy Guy. Just as she turned around, huge, black hooves swung past her head. She let out a scream and rolled out of the way. Shy Guy’s hooves landed with a heavy thump, but quickly he was galloping around the corral again, ears flattened to his skull, every muscle as tightly wound as a spring as he searched for a way out of the enclosed space. On his second pass, he almost stepped on Hanna’s legs—but she tucked them under her
self and rolled away again.
There wasn’t enough room for both of them in here with him out of control.
“Help!” Hanna shouted at Izzy, who was scrambling off Fettucini’s back. “He’s going to step on me!”
“Hanna!” Izzy shouted as she sprinted to the gate. She struggled with the latch, but her movements were too panicked and it wasn’t giving. Shy Guy galloped back past Hanna again, neighing frantically. Then the latch clicked, and the gate swung open.
Izzy ran inside, heedless of the huge horse making panicked circuits of the corral. She grabbed Hanna’s hand and yanked her up to her feet. Behind them hooves pounded dirt, and then came a metal crash.
They turned to find the gate hanging wide open, and Shy Guy galloping away.
“No!” Hanna shouted after his retreating shape.
“Uh-oh,” said Izzy, as he leapt right over the creek separating the horse barn from the rest of the ranch and took off at full tilt down Bridlemile Road.
“He’s headed toward the town!”
Izzy helped Hanna limp out of the corral. None of her bones were broken, at least, but she was pretty bruised, thanks to Izzy.
But right now, that stuff didn’t matter. She had to get to Shy Guy. She could only hope the ranch’s front gate was closed.
“I’m going after him,” said Hanna, pulling away from Izzy and stumbling.
“Are you sure you can even stand up?”
“Yeah.” Hanna grunted when she put her weight on her right hip. “No thanks to you.”
Izzy didn’t say anything, but with tear tracks running down her cheeks, she took Fettucini by the reins. Hanna felt no sympathy.
“I’ll go after him,” Izzy said. “It’s my fault.”
Hanna was already limping off in the direction Shy Guy had run. “And bring him back how?”
“I’ll get help.”
“We don’t have time to get help. Look! He’s gone!” Shy Guy’s gray shape was already disappearing behind the ranch house. Running after him on foot was pointless. At this rate, he’d make it all the way down Bridlemile Road before Hanna could catch up to him.
Shy Girl & Shy Guy (Quartz Creek Ranch) Page 5