“Hey, Hanna!” she chirped, too brightly.
“Hey,” Hanna said, putting down her water bottle. What was Izzy up to now? “What’cha got there?” she asked.
Izzy glanced around like Hanna meant something other than what she was holding behind her back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are you hiding behind your back, Izzy?”
Izzy’s eyes darkened and a shiver ran up Hanna’s spine.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Gotta go. I have to use the bathroom.”
“But we just got here.” They stared at each other for a long moment. Then, with a defeated sigh, Izzy extended her right hand and opened it.
Lying in her palm was a phone and a pair of tangled earbuds.
“You’re not supposed to have any electronics,” Hanna said.
“I know. That’s why I was hiding it, dork.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t get service out here, but I really wanted to listen to the Lawnchairs. I used to play them all the time when I gardened with my dad.”
“The Lawnchairs?” Hanna took the player and earbuds before Izzy could hide them again. “You know them?”
“What? And you do?”
“Yeah. Of course.” How could Izzy possibly know the Lawnchairs too? “They’re a little band out of my hometown.”
Izzy gaped at her. “You’re from Sturgis?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think anyone else outside of Sturgis knew they existed. It’s the same band, right? Maybe there are two with the same name.”
“Nope.” Izzy fervently shook her head. “The two girls, right? One does keyboard and sings. The other does guitar.”
“Oh man, Noelle can shred! You know that song by them, ‘Bonfire’?”
Izzy’s face lit up. “Yeah! ‘Bonfire’ is one of my favorites! I heard it at my friend’s house once, and I’ve loved them since.” She pointed at herself. “Diehard fan.”
“No way,” Hanna breathed. “That’s wild. I didn’t know anyone else had even heard of them.”
“Well, I have.”
Hanna popped in one earbud and offered Izzy the other. Surprised, she took it and put it in her ear.
“Press PLAY,” Izzy said. “I was only on the first song of the album.”
When she tapped the screen, lyrics belted into Hanna’s ear. “Mariah has such a cool voice,” she murmured.
“I know. She can go so low! She sounds like a dude sometimes.”
“Right? It’s awesome.” The guitar swelled and then gave way to keyboard synths.
“Here,” said Izzy, taking the phone and changing the song. “‘Bonfire’ is great, don’t get me wrong, but this is actually my favorite song on this album.”
A song came on that Hanna hadn’t heard in ages—not since that first day she stole something, when she took that first stolen candy bar out of her pocket. Hanna hadn’t even wanted to eat it. She just enjoyed getting away with it. She’d thought, This is the worst thing I could possibly do. If Mom found out, she’d never get on my case for something stupid ever again.
After that, she’d done it a second time. And a third. At the grocery store, in a gas station. What Hanna loved most was operating right under her mom’s nose, knowing how much she’d flip if she found out.
Izzy was watching Hanna’s face carefully when the song ended.
“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” she asked. “For having the phone?”
“Is that why you were hiding it?”
“Duh. You already have dirt on me from when I . . .” Izzy stopped, pressing her lips together in a hard line. “Well, you know.”
Right. When she almost got Hanna killed.
“Please don’t tell,” said Izzy. “I’m sure Madison would tell my parents, and they’d shake their heads just like they do when I come home with a pink slip.”
“You get in trouble a lot?” asked Hanna.
Izzy shrugged. “I guess. My teachers in Arizona are dumb and so is everyone else at school. So I tell them that. And sometimes follow it up with a punch. I mean, not the teachers. Yet.”
“Wow,” said Hanna, eyes widening. Izzy was small, but Hanna still wouldn’t want a fist in the face from her.
“But why?” Hanna asked. “Doesn’t punching someone kinda . . . hurt? And don’t you get in trouble?”
“If you do it wrong, it hurts,” said Izzy. “And whatever. I didn’t mind the pink slips that much.”
“You like getting in trouble?”
“Sure. Sometimes. I have three sisters. Sometimes putting a pink slip in front of my dad is the only way to get his attention for more than five seconds.”
Hanna understood that feeling more than she was willing to admit.
She could tell on Izzy for the phone. Hanna liked Ma Etty and Madison and everyone else, and disobeying their rules didn’t sit well. But something about Izzy smuggling this in, right under everyone’s noses, to listen to her favorite band—well, it was brave.
Plus, Hanna really liked the Lawnchairs.
“Well,” she said, tapping her chin. “I guess I won’t tell. But only if you let me listen in while we pull these weeds.”
Izzy’s smile was huge and white and bright as the sun. Hanna couldn’t help smiling back.
“Okay,” Izzy agreed. “Keep an eye out for anyone coming to check on us, though.”
“All right.” They stooped in the dirt and scooted closer together so they could share the earbuds. Then Izzy pressed PLAY on the next song.
They listened to the album three times through before the sun dipped behind the mountains and Madison called them in for dinner.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Hanna and Madison repeated the process of getting Shy Guy used to the blanket—but with the saddle. They put on the saddle, tightened the cinch, and waited while Shy Guy bucked out his anxiety. Then they walked him around before taking it off again.
After a week of this, he endured saddling with far less fuss. The day that he accepted the saddle without even pinning his ears back, Madison suggested they start out learning how to put on a bridle with an easier horse.
“I want you to try it a few times on Lacey and get it right before attempting to put a bridle on Shy Guy,” she told Hanna as they entered the barn. “Think you can handle it?”
Hanna considered it. Already this summer, she’d fallen into a corral with a huge, frightened, stampeding horse. She’d ridden emergency double with Izzy, of all people. Hanna could put a bridle on a little sleepy pony like Lacey.
Sure enough, Lacey practically slept through it. When Hanna had successfully gotten the bridle on and off twice by herself, she realized she’d done the whole thing without any trepidation at all.
Madison clapped her on the shoulder and said, “Great job. I think you’ve got the nuts and bolts. Let’s try it on our guy.”
Once they’d put Lacey away, Hanna went to Shy Guy’s stall door and lifted the green halter off the hook. He snorted and excitedly thrust his head toward her over the door.
“He’s always so excited to see us,” said Hanna, giving in to Shy Guy’s demands for scratches.
“It’s probably been a long time since a human treated him as well as you do.”
After Hanna took him out of the stall, they went through the saddle routine again. Then it was time for the bridle.
Hanna walked through the steps of removing the halter. She let Shy Guy smell the leather reins of the bridle before putting them over his neck. When it came time to put the bit in his mouth, Hanna faltered. Getting her hands close to Lacey’s mouth hadn’t bothered her—Lacey didn’t have a history of biting.
“You can do it,” urged Madison. What if he didn’t open for it? She didn’t want to put her fingers in his mouth to make him open.
Taking a deep breath, Hanna pressed the bit to Shy Guy’s lips.
His mouth opened immediately.
Hanna pushed the bit inside and pulled the bridle up and over his ears. When it was secure, she b
uckled the chin strap.
“Whew,” she said, wiping her forehead.
“See?” said Madison. “No problem. Let’s walk him around again. Then we’ll do some exercises in the corral to get him moving a little. He could use it.” Without thinking about it, Madison patted Shy Guy’s belly.
He let out a squeal and swung his body away, knocking over the wooden saddle stand. Hanna jumped and Madison stepped back, saying, “Whoa! Whoa, boy.”
Hanna was shaking when Shy Guy, breathing hard, finally settled down.
Madison looked positively ashamed. “Sorry about that,” she said, righting the saddle stand. “It’s easy to forget since you started working with Shy Guy that he’s still afraid of most people.”
When her heartbeat returned to normal, Hanna picked up the fallen reins.
“No problem,” she said. They all stood quietly, letting the charge of the moment drain away.
“You know, though,” Madison said quietly, “he’s come really far.” She turned to Hanna. “And so have you. Do you think you’re ready for your first riding lesson tomorrow?”
Hanna’s stomach sank like a stone tossed in a lake. “R-riding lesson?”
Riding was what they’d been preparing for, after all. She imagined sitting astride magnificent Shy Guy, galloping down a quiet country road, his silver hair flowing in the same wind as her blonde hair.
But in the same daydream, something startled him, and he reared up, beating the air with his hooves, tossing Hanna from his back like a sack of potatoes.
Shy Guy wouldn’t hurt her intentionally, she reminded herself. But could she trust him anyway?
Madison looked reassuring. “Your first few lessons won’t be on Shy Guy, of course. We’ll start you on Lacey till you’re more comfortable in the saddle.”
Hanna couldn’t speak.
“Think about it, and you can decide tomorrow,” said Madison. “That horse has made a lot of progress, but you’re the only person he trusts. I don’t mean to pressure you—it’s your choice, Hanna—but if anyone’s going to be able to ride him again, it’ll be you.”
No pressure, indeed. Hanna tried to swallow the tight lump that had formed in her throat, but failed.
Hanna!
It was her mom’s voice.
Hanna, honey, why are you crying?
You’ve always loved horses. I don’t understand.
Hanna, please. You’re embarrassing me.
It’s not time to get off the horses yet.
Hanna.
Please.
Stop crying.
Chapter Fourteen
Around the dinner table everyone but Hanna was in a good mood, swapping funny vacation stories over Mr. Bridle’s “famous” eggplant lasagna. Hanna brooded as she picked apart the slippery layers of noodles.
Madison was right. Shy Guy didn’t trust anyone else. And Hanna couldn’t very well ask Madison to try him out first—she could get hurt. Hanna had to learn how to ride.
“Eggplant not your thing?” Ma Etty asked, startling Hanna.
“No, no,” she said, and made a point of taking a big bite. “The eggplant’s fine. I’m not that hungry.”
“What are you thinking about?” Ma Etty asked.
Hanna let out a stuttering breath. “Madison wants me to ride tomorrow. But . . .” She dropped her fork to her plate. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“What do you mean?” Ma Etty shot her a look of pure surprise. “Of course you can.”
“What if I get thrown? What if—”
“Did what-ifs stop you when Shy Guy got out of the corral?”
“No.”
“Then why let nerves stop you this time? Shy Guy needs you as much now as he did then.”
Hanna’s brow creased. “Needs me?”
“Absolutely,” said Ma Etty. “Everyone deserves a second chance—even Shy Guy. Especially Shy Guy. He has so much potential. How sad would it be if he was never ridden again? If he spent the rest of his days in a pasture—exercised occasionally in a pen and otherwise forgotten about?”
Hanna hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d been so focused on herself, on her own fears and well-being, that she hadn’t considered how Shy Guy must feel. He was so well-trained, so eager to please. What a shame to waste a great horse.
“I just don’t know,” said Hanna. The time she’d ridden Fettucini had been an emergency.
This wasn’t. And she was scared.
“Get a feel for the saddle with Lacey tomorrow,” said Ma Etty. “And give it some thought. Seems to me that you’re Shy Guy’s best chance to be the horse we both know he can be.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The whole walk from the ranch house to the barn the next morning, Hanna kept reminding herself: I’m giving Shy Guy a second chance. I’m learning to ride for his sake.
“So let’s talk about mounting,” said Madison, once they’d gotten little Lacey out of her stall. “You always want to mount on the left. She should stand still for you—if she starts to move, stop and resituate her before you try getting on again. Put one foot in the stirrup and pull yourself up by the horn.”
Trying to remember all of these instructions, Hanna walked around Lacey’s front so she was standing on her left side. Taking a deep breath, she put one hand on the horn, one foot in the stirrup, and hauled herself up into the seat.
Lacey yawned.
Hanna settled into the saddle and was surprised to find the fear she’d expected had dulled and faded, like well-worn jeans.
Madison passed Hanna the reins. “Okay. Let’s start real easy, with a walk, and we’ll go from there.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The landscape of the ranch changed dramatically atop a horse. The sun shone brighter, and the pasture spread out even farther, like a green shag carpet. Even that big, lumpy butte took on a shimmery halo during Hanna’s morning riding lessons.
Riding turned out to be far less stressful than she’d expected. Then again, riding Lacey was a bit like sitting in the car when her grandmother drove. Slow, steady, and kind of boring.
Madison never pressured her to do more than she could. Hanna could get off whenever she wanted. The first time they tried a trot, the fast bouncing frightened Hanna so much that she had to have Madison help her off the horse’s back. She stood, shaking, until she grew calm enough to try again.
After another circuit of the corral, bouncing crazily, Hanna decided she didn’t particularly like the trot.
“Don’t hold onto the horn,” Madison kept telling her. “You’re not going to fall off!”
“I feel like I am!” Hanna would shout back.
Over the next few days, Hanna learned how to turn, back up, and ask for a trot and a canter, all while they worked on her posture and control. The lessons were intensive, but Hanna was determined to become the best rider she could for Shy Guy.
After her lesson every day, though she was tired from riding and brushing down Lacey and putting her away, Hanna and Madison would still tack up and work out Shy Guy in the corral. Madison taught her how to use the longe line to exercise him, and they discovered that Shy Guy understood every verbal command that Madison had stored up.
Madison shook her head. “I can’t tell if it’s him or the Hanoverian in him,” she said.
“What?”
“He’s perfectly obedient. He’ll do whatever you ask, when you ask it.” Madison shook her head. “I’ll never understand why someone hit a horse like Shy Guy. Honestly.”
Hanna didn’t either.
After a week of longeing Shy Guy almost every day, Madison said, “How about tomorrow?”
“What about tomorrow?” asked Hanna.
“I think it’s time to try riding him. So how about tomorrow?”
Right. The real test and the reason for all this.
“Think about it,” Madison said. “But in my professional opinion, you’re both ready to try.”
Hanna made herself nod, b
ut she couldn’t even force out a yes.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Breakfast the next day was a blur. Rae Ann moaned about missing her cat back in Vermont. Josh and Cade were arguing about video games. Hanna wasn’t listening. Instead, she was chewing one of her nails down to the bed when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“You okay?” It was Izzy, collecting dishes. “You’re white in the face. I mean, uh, whiter than usual.”
Hanna couldn’t help but laugh at that. It came out tremulous and shaky.
“I’m thinking.”
Izzy scooped up her dish. “About what?”
Why did she want to know? “I’m going to ride Shy Guy today,” said Hanna.
The dishes clattered as Izzy almost dropped them. “Whoa. That’s a big step.”
“I know.”
“Here, I gotta go put these in the kitchen, but wait up for me.” Before Hanna could say anything, Izzy twirled and flew away, making a ruckus in the kitchen as she deposited the dishes.
“It’s your day to load the dishwasher, Izzy,” Hanna heard Ma Etty say.
“Dang it!” A faucet ran.
“You have to get the food off them first!” A loud sigh. “Let me do it, Izzy. Go on. I know you’re itching to ride.”
Ma Etty was too nice to them. Izzy jogged back out of the kitchen.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing Hanna by the arm and dragging her out ahead of the others, saying she wanted to talk in peace.
Talk? All they’d done was listen to the Lawnchairs together. For three hours. Okay, sure, they had laughed a lot about riding their horses and how cute Josh was. And sure, Izzy was a real joker, and most of the laughing was on Hanna’s end as they pulled weeds to the thrumming of Noelle’s guitar. But that didn’t make them friends.
“You’ve already decided to do it, right?” Izzy prompted. “So why are you thinking about it?”
“What if he bucks? What if he rears?” Hanna rubbed her head. “What if I fall off?”
“So what? Wear a helmet. The worst that can happen is your butt gets a little bruised.” Izzy shrugged as they approached the barn, and they opened the double doors together. “And Madison’s helping you. What have you got to be afraid of?”
Shy Girl & Shy Guy (Quartz Creek Ranch) Page 8