My One and Only(31)
And Nick. Apparently his equestrian-enthusiast father had taught him something about horses, because he looked quite at ease on a black horse, ignoring me and talking with Emily, his employee, whose horse’s name was Sweetheart (please). I wondered if she was more than his employee…she was tossing out a lot of doe-eyed looks and dimpled smiles. Good luck, kid, I thought. My condolences. Oh, and by the way, guess what Nick’s horse was named? Satan. I know. You’re telling me.
I turned back to Bob, tried to grab the saddle horn and get my foot into the stirrup. Bob may have been at death’s door, but he was still standing, and he was very tall. And wide. And somewhat swaybacked. After four or five tries, in which one foot was trapped in the stirrup and the rest of me was hopping madly to bridge the gap, I finally managed to crawl up Bob’s side and sling my leg over the other side. By now, Bob’s head was almost touching the ground, as he was fast asleep. I gave the reins a gentle tug, which resulted in absolutely nothing.
“Bob? Time to go, big guy,” I said.
“Okay, people, my name is Brianna and I’m your guide today, welcome to Glacier National Park and thank you for choosing Highland Stables,” Brianna called in a long-suffering, well-practiced monotone. “For those of you who’ve never ridden before—” pointed look at me, still trying to wake my steed “—to make the horse go, give a firm kick to the horse’s side, you will not hurt the horse, to make him stop, pull back gently and firmly on the reins, to go left, lean the reins to the left, to go right, lean the reins to the right.” She heaved a mighty sigh. “Everyone set, okay, let’s go, the horses know the way, just sit back and enjoy nature’s splendor, please stay in line and in case of grizzly sighting, do not panic.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” I said to Dennis’s back. “Don’t bears eat horses?”
“They’re probably hibernating. Don’t worry, hon. I’ll protect you.” My boyfriend turned around and tossed a confident grin my way.
I gave a reluctant smile back. “Thanks, Den.” Such a good guy. And maybe me cutting him off was working, because last night had been full of heavy sighs, tossing and turning from his side of the room. Perhaps a change of heart was coming for young Dennis. One could never rule out the motivation sex provided, after all.
As the other horses left the corral, Bob sleepwalked forward, plodding gloomily and with great effort. Needless to say, I was dead last. The path led into the woods, Lake McDonald glittering in the sunshine on one side, pines and aspen and huge chunks of gray rock sloping upward on the other. Sunlight fell in patches through the forest. The trail was wide and covered in pine needles, the leather of the saddle squeaked, the sounds of the others talking and laughing drifted back to me. The air was so pure here. Even though it was only mid-September, it was cool; someone had said snow was predicted for later in the week, which apparently was par for the course. Clouds scuffed along the mountain on Lake McDonald’s far side, and the woods were rich with birdsong.
My reverie was cut off as Bob veered over to a tree and began eating leaves. “Come on, Bob,” I said, pulling on the reins and trying not to hurt his mouth. “Let’s go, pal. No snacking.” Bob, who may have been deaf, ignored me. The other horses continued on. “Bob, come on! Behave.” I gave another tug. Nothing.
Just then, Brianna cantered down the line of horses. Thank goodness. Or not…she stopped up ahead at Dennis’s side. Perfect.
“Brianna,” I called, “Bob here keeps trying to—”
“Have you, like, ever ridden before?” Brianna said to Dennis. “You’re totally a natural.”
“Thanks,” Dennis said, smiling his I’ll save you, little lady smile. “Nope. This is my maiden voyage. I’m Dennis. I’m a firefighter.”
“Shut up,” she sighed, her face glowing.
“Brianna? Bob keeps eating leaves,” I said as my horse once again swiped a mouthful from a tree, practically yanking my arms from their sockets.
“Have you ever, you know, saved someone’s life?” Brianna asked.
“Oh, sure. It’s just part of the job,” Dennis said. “This must be wicked awesome, though, living out here. Man.”
“It’s cool,” she answered. Or I thought she did…their voices were fading as the distance between us lengthened. Yellow foam dripped from Bob’s muzzle as he continued to chew placidly.
“Bob. Enough,” I said in my lawyer voice. “Giddyup.” That didn’t sound very commanding. “Bob. Move it!” He responded by lifting his tail and fertilizing the trail. I gave the horse a gentle nudge with my heel. He didn’t move. Tried again, more forcefully this time. Nothing. “How’d you like to be castrated, Bob?” I asked. That and another good swift kick got the horse moving, albeit at the speed of an earthworm. But at least we were moving. The sound of Willa’s laughter floated back to me, and I couldn’t help a smile. She was so sincere, so well-meaning, so kindhearted. She’d come a long way from that bed-wetting, pale little ghost I’d first met.
As we got further away from the lake, I could hear the constant shush and gurgle of a stream. Bob plodded along, occasionally favoring me with a grunt or a slight snore. I could see the tail of Dennis’s horse ahead of me, maybe twenty yards or so. He didn’t seem to notice my lag time. I didn’t really mind, to be honest—under the best of circumstances, family gatherings tended to give me hives. Literal hives—I was a redhead, after all. Very sensitive skin. Family events were, in a word, tough. My recalcitrant father, the constant cacophony of BeverLee’s often inane chatter, my endless worry over Willa’s many ill-fated choices. Dennis made things easier…his easygoing nature and ability to see the best in everyone was a good example for a porcupine like myself.