The Wild Ones
Page 21
Trick grins sheepishly. “Yeah. I told you, he’s already mine. It’s just not official yet.”
“Where’d you get the name?”
Trick’s smile is nostalgic. “My dad used to say, ‘You take care of a horse with rags and you make them love you with apples’.”
It’s ridiculous how touched I am by that simple and sweet story, and by Trick’s sentimentality.
“And just what do you plan to do with Rags once you get him? If you can get him.”
“The place my father used to stable his horses, the one I was telling you about before, has a couple open stalls. The owner remembered my father and gave me a great deal on the space until I can get a couple races under my belt.”
“So, you’ll stable him there while you train him to race?”
“Yep.”
“And then?”
“Well, after he wins a couple races, I’ll use some of the winnings to invest in a broodmare and look into studs. I can get at least one foal out of them before I need my own place. Then I’ll have a broodmare, a stud, one foal and a winner. It’ll just be a matter of working with what I’ve got until I can get another Quarter horse trained or sold. Rinse and repeat until Rags is ready for stud. By then, I hope to have a stable full of viable horseflesh.”
I nod. “That’s actually a really good plan. Provided that Rags is a winner, of course.” I hate to be the wet blanket, but the business side of me realizes the reality of the situation.
“Oh, Rags is a winner. I know it.”
“That’s pretty confident for a guy who’s never trained a winner before.”
“It is, but now Sooty agrees.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “He does?”
Trick’s smile is smug. And thrilled. “Yep. He rode Highland Runner for the first time a couple days after he got back. Says he’s got something special. For sure.”
“Does Daddy know?”
Trick nods, his smile widening. “Yep.”
“Wow. I bet that was quite the conversation.”
“Oh, it was. And so worth the seven stalls worth of shit I had to shovel to listen in on it.”
I laugh. “I guess that’s one way of doing it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed that little talk for all the money in the world. Or all the clean boots.”
I find it suspicious that my father didn’t mention it. At all. Again I wonder if he knows there’s something between Trick and me. If he doesn’t, he probably will if Mom tells him she saw us holding hands. Of course, as strange as she was acting, who knows? She might not have even noticed.
“That’s pretty awesome, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe your dad was right.”
Trick’s smile turns a little sad.
“I don’t doubt it. If there’s one thing that man knew, it was horses.”
When we arrive at the long stretch of beach, Trick parks the car and comes around to let me out. I can’t help but smile at the gentlemanly gesture.
“What?” he asks.
“What what?”
“What are you smiling at?”
“The fact that chivalry isn’t dead after all.”
“Well, if you’re more comfortable operating under the assumption that it is, I can start treating you like I do Rusty.”
“Do you kiss Rusty?”
“Hell no!”
“Then no. Let’s go with chivalry.”
Taking my hand, Trick leads me along a paver path between two tall sand dunes and out onto the beach. We walk to the surf and Trick stops. We look left and right, and I’m amazed to see the clusters of horses that dot the beach as far as the eye can see in each direction.
“About how many are there?”
“I think about a hundred and fifty total, but it’s my understanding that they like to keep the population down to around a hundred and twenty or thirty. Something like that.”
“So how do you find Rags?”
“I walk the beach until I spot him.”
“Well, then let’s walk the beach. I want to see this already-famous horse.”
“Don’t mock my future greatness. Or his. We’re both sensitive males.”
“Easily-bruised egos?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Heh, I guess not.”
Trick first leads me down the beach. As we approach each small grouping of horses, he veers further inland, toward the dunes. There is a “safe distance” requirement and he respects it completely, even though there appears to be no one around to challenge him if he chose to do otherwise. That’s kind of cool, actually. He’s a good guy, even when no one’s looking.
I look over at him. His hair is ruffled by the breeze. His eyes are narrowed as he looks off into the distance. I’m sure I’ve never seen anything sexier. Well, maybe him actually on a horse, but other than that…
As I watch him, those three bothersome little words circle through my mind again. Relentlessly, I brush them aside with an industrial-sized broom and force my mind back to the horses.
The mustangs are predominantly brown, some with brown mane and tail, some with black mane and tail. But there are a few solid black horses. They are by far the most beautiful. I can almost see proud Spaniards riding them along the beaches, patrolling the coast.
“There he is!” Trick gasps excitedly, squeezing my hand almost painfully in his as he points down the beach with his other.
I grimace a little, which he sees when he glances at me. He frowns for a second then lessens his grip on my fingers. “Sorry,” he says, cringing.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.” I pause and add, for dramatic effect, “Much.”
His attention turns completely to me, his expression morphing from excitement into concern. “Are you okay? Did I really hurt you?”
“No,” I reassure him with a smile. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m just teasing.”
“Good. I’d never want to do that.”
I think Then don’t, but I say nothing.
“Let’s go see him then.”
We set off down the beach a little ways further, until we reach another small group of horses. There are four brown horses and one black one. Looking at the proud angle of his head, the massive hind quarters and the perfect posture, I don’t even have to ask which one is Rags and Apples. I know immediately. He has one vaguely star-shaped white mark on his nose to break up his inky coat, but it only makes him more beautiful. It’s easy to see that he’ll be as much a star as the shape on his nose. Now I can see why Trick is so excited.
“Stay here,” he says quietly, motioning me to stay put as he walks toward the surf, toward the horses.
He approaches them slowly. Above the sounds of the ocean and the breeze humming in my ear, I can hear that he’s murmuring something, something soothing and low. The horses’ ears flicker and they roll their eyes toward him as he gets closer.
Taking care not to spook them with quick movements or by coming around behind them, Trick stays clearly visible to the others as he nears the back of the group, to where Rags is standing.
I hear the horse puff once through his nose and his ears prick. Trick stops. From this angle, I can see his mouth moving as he speaks to the horse.
He takes another step closer. The horse shifts his weight, but doesn’t move away.
Trick takes another step, but it’s a little too soon. The horse shakes his head, backs away two steps then stops.
When Rags suddenly pens his ears back, Trick stops dead, doesn’t move a muscle. I hold my breath. Horses are large, powerful creatures that can be very dangerous if not handled properly. And wild ones are even worse.
I watch, spellbound, as Rags takes a step forward and stops. He and Trick stare each other down. I hear Trick speaking his soothing words and I hear Rags snorting as he decides what to make of Trick. It appears they’re at an impasse.
Trick stands perfectly still and waits. I think to myself that he should just give it up, that Rags isn’t going to respond to him.
But then something surprising happens. He does.
My mouth drops open when the black beauty takes three slow steps forward and drops his nose in front of Trick’s face.
I see Trick’s lips purse as he blows gently in Rags’ nostrils. The horse sniffs and blows. Carefully, Trick raises his hand and lays it on the horse’s nose. Neither moves for a second until Rags nudges his hand. Trick responds by stroking him soothingly from between his eyes down to his velvety snout.
With very slow and calculated movements, Trick shifts to one side and runs his hand along Rags’ jaw and neck. He continues dragging his palm lightly down the horse’s side, stopping before he gets to the dangerous end. Rags turns his head and watches Trick closely, but he doesn’t show any signs of fear or aggression. Just caution.
Trick moves back to his head, taking the big face between his hands and speaking right to the animal. Rags blows again and then spontaneously backs up and takes off to join his herd.
It’s over.
But he did it. Trick did it.
Trick stands and watches the horses for a few more minutes. I don’t ruin the moment for him. I can only imagine what he’s feeling. He touched a wild horse. And the horse let him.
I see Rags watching him as well. It’s almost like there is an understanding between them, some silent communication taking place.
One other big male in the herd turns to run down the beach. The others follow suit. It’s then that Trick turns and makes his way back to me.
The smile on his face is so beautiful, so perfectly happy and sanguine, I want to kiss him. Not in passion, but in…something else. Maybe the love I’m beginning to think I can’t contain for much longer. I’m not sure. The feeling is foreign to me. It’s like I experienced it with him. I was that invested in what he was doing, in what it would mean for him to accomplish it.
And he did it.
And it’s huge.
There’s no doubt Trick’s future is with horses. I just wish I knew if his future was with me, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Trick
Watching Jenna drive Cami away is more than a little unsettling. I feel whipped for not wanting to let her go, to keep her with me instead. I mean, I haven’t known her that long and it was just one weekend.
But, man! What a weekend.
In a way, I feel like several pieces of my life, of my dreams fell into place all at once. Introducing Rags to human touch for the first time and having Cami there for the whole thing was just…sublime. I can’t remember being any happier. Ever.
For the first time, I find myself thinking of my future wife with a face. Cami’s face. Which makes no sense. We’re all wrong for each other. Except in all the ways we’re so right for each other, so good together.
Damn! What a conundrum.
When I can no longer see Jenna’s tail lights, I take my bag back to my room. I don’t relish the idea of spending the rest of the evening doing laundry, not when I’d much rather risk my job, something that was one of the most important things in my life just a few weeks ago, to go and find a way to sneak in to see Cami, to hold her and kiss her for just a few more minutes.
You sound like a girl!
I chide myself as I sort dirty clothes into two separate piles and carry them to the wash machine. I go into Mom’s bathroom to see if she and Grace have any that need washing, but the hamper is empty. I don’t know when Mom finds the time to do all that she does, but it gets done. Of course, she’s aged so much since I left for college, she probably doesn’t sleep anymore.
As it always does, guilt assails me.
I start a load of colored clothes and head back to my room. I zip my now-empty duffel and put it away. When I turn back to the bed, I see the thing that Mom left me, the thing she said she wanted me to tend to first when I got back.
It’s a long wooden box with a brand burned into the top. It reminds me of a ranch symbol or something. It’s a horseshoe with the letters P, B and H inside it. My initials. Yet I’ve never seen the box.
One side is hinged. The opposite side has a latch closure. I flip it open and life the lid.
The contents are covered in a dark red velvet cloth. An envelope sits on top of it. One word is scrawled across the front—Trick. It’s my father’s writing. Even after all this time, I recognize it.
I’m sad and excited and a little nervous as I rip open the envelope and take out the folded piece of paper. It’s bittersweet to have something new from him after all this time. But what must it say, for my mother to have kept it from me all these years?
It reads:
Trick,
I know you don’t understand how I could take my own life and leave the family that I love so much. And I would rather think you’d never have to know my shame, but I also know there might come a time when your mother feels like you should know, that you need to know. You’re reading this so now is obviously that time.
I’ve written her a much different letter, but one that explains what’s inside this one. No words, no actions, no amount of regret can take back the pain I’ve caused. I can only hope that my absence will help those hurts to heal.
All my adult life, the only thing I’ve ever loved more than horses was you, your sister and your mom. Everything I did, I did for you three. Except for one thing. One selfish thing, one mistake. But that’s all it took. It’s the one thing that has destroyed everything I’ve always tried to protect—my family.
You probably don’t remember that I had a partner for my dreams of breeding thoroughbreds. You never met him. When we met, he didn’t know as much about horses as I did, but he was able to get the start-up money that I needed to make our dreams as a family come true. He’s a good man. After reading the rest of what I have to say, you’ll see that he’s a much better man than I am.
“Where’d you get the name?”
Trick’s smile is nostalgic. “My dad used to say, ‘You take care of a horse with rags and you make them love you with apples’.”
It’s ridiculous how touched I am by that simple and sweet story, and by Trick’s sentimentality.
“And just what do you plan to do with Rags once you get him? If you can get him.”
“The place my father used to stable his horses, the one I was telling you about before, has a couple open stalls. The owner remembered my father and gave me a great deal on the space until I can get a couple races under my belt.”
“So, you’ll stable him there while you train him to race?”
“Yep.”
“And then?”
“Well, after he wins a couple races, I’ll use some of the winnings to invest in a broodmare and look into studs. I can get at least one foal out of them before I need my own place. Then I’ll have a broodmare, a stud, one foal and a winner. It’ll just be a matter of working with what I’ve got until I can get another Quarter horse trained or sold. Rinse and repeat until Rags is ready for stud. By then, I hope to have a stable full of viable horseflesh.”
I nod. “That’s actually a really good plan. Provided that Rags is a winner, of course.” I hate to be the wet blanket, but the business side of me realizes the reality of the situation.
“Oh, Rags is a winner. I know it.”
“That’s pretty confident for a guy who’s never trained a winner before.”
“It is, but now Sooty agrees.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “He does?”
Trick’s smile is smug. And thrilled. “Yep. He rode Highland Runner for the first time a couple days after he got back. Says he’s got something special. For sure.”
“Does Daddy know?”
Trick nods, his smile widening. “Yep.”
“Wow. I bet that was quite the conversation.”
“Oh, it was. And so worth the seven stalls worth of shit I had to shovel to listen in on it.”
I laugh. “I guess that’s one way of doing it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed that little talk for all the money in the world. Or all the clean boots.”
I find it suspicious that my father didn’t mention it. At all. Again I wonder if he knows there’s something between Trick and me. If he doesn’t, he probably will if Mom tells him she saw us holding hands. Of course, as strange as she was acting, who knows? She might not have even noticed.
“That’s pretty awesome, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe your dad was right.”
Trick’s smile turns a little sad.
“I don’t doubt it. If there’s one thing that man knew, it was horses.”
When we arrive at the long stretch of beach, Trick parks the car and comes around to let me out. I can’t help but smile at the gentlemanly gesture.
“What?” he asks.
“What what?”
“What are you smiling at?”
“The fact that chivalry isn’t dead after all.”
“Well, if you’re more comfortable operating under the assumption that it is, I can start treating you like I do Rusty.”
“Do you kiss Rusty?”
“Hell no!”
“Then no. Let’s go with chivalry.”
Taking my hand, Trick leads me along a paver path between two tall sand dunes and out onto the beach. We walk to the surf and Trick stops. We look left and right, and I’m amazed to see the clusters of horses that dot the beach as far as the eye can see in each direction.
“About how many are there?”
“I think about a hundred and fifty total, but it’s my understanding that they like to keep the population down to around a hundred and twenty or thirty. Something like that.”
“So how do you find Rags?”
“I walk the beach until I spot him.”
“Well, then let’s walk the beach. I want to see this already-famous horse.”
“Don’t mock my future greatness. Or his. We’re both sensitive males.”
“Easily-bruised egos?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Heh, I guess not.”
Trick first leads me down the beach. As we approach each small grouping of horses, he veers further inland, toward the dunes. There is a “safe distance” requirement and he respects it completely, even though there appears to be no one around to challenge him if he chose to do otherwise. That’s kind of cool, actually. He’s a good guy, even when no one’s looking.
I look over at him. His hair is ruffled by the breeze. His eyes are narrowed as he looks off into the distance. I’m sure I’ve never seen anything sexier. Well, maybe him actually on a horse, but other than that…
As I watch him, those three bothersome little words circle through my mind again. Relentlessly, I brush them aside with an industrial-sized broom and force my mind back to the horses.
The mustangs are predominantly brown, some with brown mane and tail, some with black mane and tail. But there are a few solid black horses. They are by far the most beautiful. I can almost see proud Spaniards riding them along the beaches, patrolling the coast.
“There he is!” Trick gasps excitedly, squeezing my hand almost painfully in his as he points down the beach with his other.
I grimace a little, which he sees when he glances at me. He frowns for a second then lessens his grip on my fingers. “Sorry,” he says, cringing.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.” I pause and add, for dramatic effect, “Much.”
His attention turns completely to me, his expression morphing from excitement into concern. “Are you okay? Did I really hurt you?”
“No,” I reassure him with a smile. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m just teasing.”
“Good. I’d never want to do that.”
I think Then don’t, but I say nothing.
“Let’s go see him then.”
We set off down the beach a little ways further, until we reach another small group of horses. There are four brown horses and one black one. Looking at the proud angle of his head, the massive hind quarters and the perfect posture, I don’t even have to ask which one is Rags and Apples. I know immediately. He has one vaguely star-shaped white mark on his nose to break up his inky coat, but it only makes him more beautiful. It’s easy to see that he’ll be as much a star as the shape on his nose. Now I can see why Trick is so excited.
“Stay here,” he says quietly, motioning me to stay put as he walks toward the surf, toward the horses.
He approaches them slowly. Above the sounds of the ocean and the breeze humming in my ear, I can hear that he’s murmuring something, something soothing and low. The horses’ ears flicker and they roll their eyes toward him as he gets closer.
Taking care not to spook them with quick movements or by coming around behind them, Trick stays clearly visible to the others as he nears the back of the group, to where Rags is standing.
I hear the horse puff once through his nose and his ears prick. Trick stops. From this angle, I can see his mouth moving as he speaks to the horse.
He takes another step closer. The horse shifts his weight, but doesn’t move away.
Trick takes another step, but it’s a little too soon. The horse shakes his head, backs away two steps then stops.
When Rags suddenly pens his ears back, Trick stops dead, doesn’t move a muscle. I hold my breath. Horses are large, powerful creatures that can be very dangerous if not handled properly. And wild ones are even worse.
I watch, spellbound, as Rags takes a step forward and stops. He and Trick stare each other down. I hear Trick speaking his soothing words and I hear Rags snorting as he decides what to make of Trick. It appears they’re at an impasse.
Trick stands perfectly still and waits. I think to myself that he should just give it up, that Rags isn’t going to respond to him.
But then something surprising happens. He does.
My mouth drops open when the black beauty takes three slow steps forward and drops his nose in front of Trick’s face.
I see Trick’s lips purse as he blows gently in Rags’ nostrils. The horse sniffs and blows. Carefully, Trick raises his hand and lays it on the horse’s nose. Neither moves for a second until Rags nudges his hand. Trick responds by stroking him soothingly from between his eyes down to his velvety snout.
With very slow and calculated movements, Trick shifts to one side and runs his hand along Rags’ jaw and neck. He continues dragging his palm lightly down the horse’s side, stopping before he gets to the dangerous end. Rags turns his head and watches Trick closely, but he doesn’t show any signs of fear or aggression. Just caution.
Trick moves back to his head, taking the big face between his hands and speaking right to the animal. Rags blows again and then spontaneously backs up and takes off to join his herd.
It’s over.
But he did it. Trick did it.
Trick stands and watches the horses for a few more minutes. I don’t ruin the moment for him. I can only imagine what he’s feeling. He touched a wild horse. And the horse let him.
I see Rags watching him as well. It’s almost like there is an understanding between them, some silent communication taking place.
One other big male in the herd turns to run down the beach. The others follow suit. It’s then that Trick turns and makes his way back to me.
The smile on his face is so beautiful, so perfectly happy and sanguine, I want to kiss him. Not in passion, but in…something else. Maybe the love I’m beginning to think I can’t contain for much longer. I’m not sure. The feeling is foreign to me. It’s like I experienced it with him. I was that invested in what he was doing, in what it would mean for him to accomplish it.
And he did it.
And it’s huge.
There’s no doubt Trick’s future is with horses. I just wish I knew if his future was with me, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Trick
Watching Jenna drive Cami away is more than a little unsettling. I feel whipped for not wanting to let her go, to keep her with me instead. I mean, I haven’t known her that long and it was just one weekend.
But, man! What a weekend.
In a way, I feel like several pieces of my life, of my dreams fell into place all at once. Introducing Rags to human touch for the first time and having Cami there for the whole thing was just…sublime. I can’t remember being any happier. Ever.
For the first time, I find myself thinking of my future wife with a face. Cami’s face. Which makes no sense. We’re all wrong for each other. Except in all the ways we’re so right for each other, so good together.
Damn! What a conundrum.
When I can no longer see Jenna’s tail lights, I take my bag back to my room. I don’t relish the idea of spending the rest of the evening doing laundry, not when I’d much rather risk my job, something that was one of the most important things in my life just a few weeks ago, to go and find a way to sneak in to see Cami, to hold her and kiss her for just a few more minutes.
You sound like a girl!
I chide myself as I sort dirty clothes into two separate piles and carry them to the wash machine. I go into Mom’s bathroom to see if she and Grace have any that need washing, but the hamper is empty. I don’t know when Mom finds the time to do all that she does, but it gets done. Of course, she’s aged so much since I left for college, she probably doesn’t sleep anymore.
As it always does, guilt assails me.
I start a load of colored clothes and head back to my room. I zip my now-empty duffel and put it away. When I turn back to the bed, I see the thing that Mom left me, the thing she said she wanted me to tend to first when I got back.
It’s a long wooden box with a brand burned into the top. It reminds me of a ranch symbol or something. It’s a horseshoe with the letters P, B and H inside it. My initials. Yet I’ve never seen the box.
One side is hinged. The opposite side has a latch closure. I flip it open and life the lid.
The contents are covered in a dark red velvet cloth. An envelope sits on top of it. One word is scrawled across the front—Trick. It’s my father’s writing. Even after all this time, I recognize it.
I’m sad and excited and a little nervous as I rip open the envelope and take out the folded piece of paper. It’s bittersweet to have something new from him after all this time. But what must it say, for my mother to have kept it from me all these years?
It reads:
Trick,
I know you don’t understand how I could take my own life and leave the family that I love so much. And I would rather think you’d never have to know my shame, but I also know there might come a time when your mother feels like you should know, that you need to know. You’re reading this so now is obviously that time.
I’ve written her a much different letter, but one that explains what’s inside this one. No words, no actions, no amount of regret can take back the pain I’ve caused. I can only hope that my absence will help those hurts to heal.
All my adult life, the only thing I’ve ever loved more than horses was you, your sister and your mom. Everything I did, I did for you three. Except for one thing. One selfish thing, one mistake. But that’s all it took. It’s the one thing that has destroyed everything I’ve always tried to protect—my family.
You probably don’t remember that I had a partner for my dreams of breeding thoroughbreds. You never met him. When we met, he didn’t know as much about horses as I did, but he was able to get the start-up money that I needed to make our dreams as a family come true. He’s a good man. After reading the rest of what I have to say, you’ll see that he’s a much better man than I am.
