I walked out to the barn. Margo had said that her horse was in the far stall, so I went straight to the back. She was a pretty chestnut color with a white star in the middle of her forehead. According to Margo, that was where she got her name. I chatted with her a bit and got to know her. She was a sweet horse. I normally tacked up my horse outside the barn, but it had been awhile, so I decided to go ahead and get her ready here. I got a bridle and put it on her, then I brushed her down and got her ready for her saddle. I was in the tack room getting the saddle and saddle blanket when I heard voices. I picked up the saddle and walked into the barn to find all the guys there.
“What the hell are you doing?” Reed asked.
“Well, see, sugar, I was bored and felt like going for a ride,” I said, making ride sound as suggestive as possible. “But my options are kinda limited here, so I figured I had to settle for riding a horse, not a cowboy.” I winked, but he didn’t seem amused.
“And so what? You were just going to pick a horse at random, throw a saddle on and take off?” he asked. The other guys were standing there mouths agape to see their boss acting like such a prick. I could tell by their faces that wasn’t normal for him, so it was obviously about me. Great, wonderful good ole boy homophobia for the win. Asshole.
“Yeah, I thought maybe I would try that one.” I motioned to a young stallion that was raring to go and was obviously barely broken.
“You can’t just…”
“Calm down,” I said, rolling my eyes and interrupting his bluster before he could get going. “Margo told me I could ride her horse so that’s the one I was taking.”
“Fine, give me that,” he growled grabbing the saddle from my hand and marching to Lucinda Stars’ stall. He swung the saddle over her back and positioned it just behind her shoulders. He checked her bridle, shooting me a glare, then moved around her and hooked the breast collar. He flipped up the stirrup preparing to tighten the saddle.
“I’m going to need you to get out of my way,” I said.
“You what?”
“I said, I’m going to need you to get out of my way.” I slipped between him and the horse, reached under her and grabbed the cinch, then I ran the latigo through the cinch and up to the rigging twice. I tightened the cinch, tied up the excess latigo, and lowered the stirrup into place. “One of the first things my father taught me was that you always tighten your own cinch. Now, like I said, get out of my way.”
He moved to the side and I led her out of the stall. I placed the reins over her head, mounted up, and with a gentle tap of my heels and click of my tongue, we were off.
8
Reed
I watched as Ripley rode off. Once he was out of sight, I turned to the guys who were just staring at me. “So, I guess he knew what he was doing.”
Bart shook his head and said, “Reed, that boy was on a horse before he could walk, so yeah. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that? Randall gave me the impression he hated the ranch and the horses; that he couldn’t get out of River Gorge fast enough. I had no idea he ever had any interest in riding.”
“I’m fairly certain that Randall’s version of what happened when Ripley left is quite different than Ripley’s. But that isn’t my story to tell. Just try to remember that he did grow up here.”
“I know, it’s just hard to picture him on a ranch, you know. He’s just so,” I paused trying to find words to describe him that weren’t beautiful or gorgeous, because that’s what he was, “citified.”
“True enough,” Bart agreed, nodding. “He does look like he took to city life all right. That doesn’t change the fact that he grew up right here on the Bluebird.”
“You’re right, Bart. Let’s get back to work. Guys, everybody know what they’re doing?”
“Sure do,” Landon said. “I’m going to be working with that filly this morning.”
“Great,” I said. “I’m headed out to the north pasture; I want to check the fences up there.” As I put the saddle on my horse, I pictured Ripley and the way his hands had moved as he thread the latigo through the rigging. There was more to the city boy than met the eye.
“You’re taking a horse to check fence?” Cruz asked. Normally we used ATVs out here for things like that, but today I just needed some saddle time.
“Yeah, just what I’m in the mood for.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. I knew he got it the way only another rider could. Sometimes the only place things made sense was on the back of a horse.
I started out, and with each step, the stress began to fade. I followed the fence line and let my mind drift. Ripley had shown that he knew his way around a horse, and I’d overstepped this morning. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would. He didn’t seem like someone who liked to ride, but the way he’d gripped the horn on the saddle and swung himself up onto the back of Lucinda Star had told a different story. That was a practiced move. Bart was right, I needed to remember he was raised here. Hard to do when he looked like he’d just stepped off a runway at fashion week in New York, though.
I spent the rest of the day out, but eventually my stomach was growling, and my horse was tired. I’d just finished grooming King and turned him loose in the pasture behind the barn when the crunch of tires on the gravel alerted me that we had a visitor. I stepped out and Larry Grayson’s huge white truck pulled up. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him this afternoon.
He was one of those men who knew everything—just ask him. He had a ranch on the north side of town that had been in his family for generations. Because of that, he thought he knew all there was to know about ranching. We didn’t agree on the proper way to train horses or anything else. More than once I’d had someone come to me because they didn’t like his methods. I didn’t know why he was here today, though. We didn’t have any pending business. I stood by the door and waited for him to come to me. It was a trick I used with horses and people alike. By making him come to me, I established who was in charge here.
He walked up and nodded his head. “Reed.”
“Larry.”
“How's things out here?” he asked.
“Fine, and you?” I answered.
“Doing fine. I heard Randy was back,” he said, making an effort to sound nonchalant, but I saw the look in his eye and it was calculating.
“He is, but he goes by Ripley now,” I said as Bart and Ripley walked up behind Larry. Ripley had changed clothes and wore a short pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt that said “So gay I can’t even think straight.” I held back a chuckle thinking that seeing him dressed like that was likely to cause Larry to have a heart attack.
“Ripley,” he scoffed. “Of course he took his mother’s name. He always was a mama's boy.”
And maybe a heart attack wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Is that so?” I asked, warning in my tone. From the first time I met him, I could tell that he was one of those cowboys. The kind that believed women and gay men didn’t have a place in his world of good ole boys. “I have to admit, I was a bit of a mama’s boy myself growing up.”