But Charles didn’t move. He stood with his hands on the saddle, battling with his fears.
“Do you want me to give you a leg up, Mr. Charles?”
Charles shook his head. “No. I’m good.”
Angel prayed Charles wouldn’t accidentally kick Whirlwind with his foot as he swung it over the horse, startling him.
Charles put his foot into the stirrup again and waited. Angel held his breath. This time Whirlwind didn’t budge. He was patient, waiting for Charles. In one smooth move Charles hoisted himself up and swung his leg over the back of the horse, sliding smoothly into the saddle.
Angel released his breath. He wanted to whoop out loud, but of course he didn’t. The last thing anyone wanted to do at this miraculous moment was spook the horse. Charles wasn’t smiling. His face was a picture of concentration. He began checking the horse’s girth.
“I brought the lunge line,” Angel told him. “We can go that route. This first time,” he added. His having some control over the horse might help Charles feel more relaxed in the saddle while he met his fears.
Charles looked up. His eyes were crinkled and his cheeks rose in a smug smile.
“No, thanks,” he said buoyantly. “I’ve got this.”
“Remember, if a mistake happens, forget about the mistake and keep going.”
“Not a bad lesson to remember for life, eh?”
Angel smiled and gave Charles the thumbs-up. As Charles led Whirlwind to the outer perimeter, Angel hurried to retrieve the mount. He moved it to the side rail then crossed his arms and watched as Charles smoothly walked Whirlwind around the arena. Charles had a good seat and Whirlwind exhibited none of his high-stepping anxiety. This was akin to a first date. They were checking each other out, learning the cues, beginning a dialogue.
After a while Whirlwind shifted easily into a trot. The trot was a flashy movement and Whirlwind’s legs stepped high. He looked like he was on springs. With the wind gently blowing and the coolness of the night air, the horse seemed to be enjoying the evening outing. Angel watched the pair as they began to dance together. Granted, it couldn’t be compared with the fluent, effortless ballet that Whirlwind shared with Karl. That had come from countless hours of practice. Whirlwind understood each subtle movement Karl had offered. But with Charles, it was relaxed and easy. Angel’s grin widened. And both horse and rider seemed to be having so damn much fun.
Charles rode no more than twenty minutes, but it was enough. When he dismounted, he took off his helmet and Angel could see the man was practically busting out of his skin with happiness. His eyes were bright and his face flushed. He wrapped his arms around Whirlwind’s neck and hugged him.
“Thank you,” he said to the horse, unabashedly choked up. Releasing the horse, he stepped toward Angel and wrapped his arms around him as well. “Thank you,” he said again. “Thank you, my friend.”
When he stepped back, Angel could see the tears flooding his eyes. They made his own eyes water.
“It was time!” he exclaimed. “That is all. You know,” he teased, “you look so good, maybe you will be the one to take him to the Olympics.”
Charles smiled at the joke then grew serious. “No, Whirlwind is going to make me the best dressage rider that I can be.” He paused. “But Karl will make Whirlwind the best dressage horse he can be.”
He looked at Charles and beamed. “Sí. Es perfecto.”
Charles lit up. “I’ve got to tell Grace,” he exclaimed, and swung his head back toward the house, as if he could see her there.
“Go to her, my man. Go now! I’ll take care of Whirlwind.”
Charles hesitated, though it was clear he wanted to take off whooping and hollering down the hill. “How will you get back to the house? No, I’ll wait.”
“Go! I’m not going up the hill.” He smirked. “I’m heading to the cottage. It’s not so far. I can walk.”
Charles understood and slapped Angel on the back. “Very good then. I’ll take you up on your offer.” He was already walking away when he said more for politeness, “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. Go!”
Angel laughed to himself, not at Charles but with pure love for the man, as he watched him hurry down the hill then sprint to his truck. He heard the engine fire up, then a moment later saw the red pickup speeding up the hill. Grace is going to ride a stallion herself tonight, he thought with another laugh.
“Come on, you magnificent horse,” Angel said, patting Whirlwind. “You’ve done your good deed for today.”
* * *
Elise sat across from Karl at a pub in Landrum. A local band was playing “Sweet Home Carolina” and the locals were joining in with the chorus. She couldn’t believe Karl had never heard of the song.
“I’m going to make a southern boy out of you yet,” she teased.
“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning across the small round table to be heard over the band. “I’ve lived in Florida for almost ten years.”
Elise laughed. “Florida ain’t the South,” she said. “Now that you’re moving to North Carolina, you have to appreciate the delicacies of southern living.”
“Ja?” he asked, and downed his beer. He lifted his hand and gestured for the waitress. “Like what?” he asked Elise.
“Oh, like barbecue. You should know, southerners take their barbecue seriously. Different regions have their own take on what makes theirs the best. Here in the Carolinas, they like to use the whole hog, slow-cooked and smoky. North Carolina might fight with South Carolina over whether tomato or mustard sauce is the best, though. You’ll have to come to your own mind on that. And biscuits.” She rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “You haven’t lived till you tasted a southern biscuit. You’ll come to love collard greens and pies, oyster roasts, fried chicken—all fried foods.” She smacked her lips. “Especially fried green tomatoes.”
Karl made a face.
“Trust me. You’re going to love them. And sweet tea. So sweet it can make your teeth ache. In fact, you know you’re in the South if you get sweet tea without having to ask for it.”
The waitress brought two more beers and cleared away the two empties.
“I’ll stick to beer.” Karl raised his bottle to his lips. After drinking he cocked his head and asked disbelievingly, “You really got two million dollars for Whirlwind?”
“Minus taxes, expenses . . .”
“And what you have to pay Angel.”
She shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t take a penny. Something about his honor.”
“Really?” Karl took a long drink and looked around the room, thinking. “That’s cool,” he decided.
“He’s a good guy. I guess I can see him with my mother.” Then she shook her head and in unison she and Karl said, “Noooooo.”
Elise looked at the band. They were playing in a cleared area in the back of the room, encircled by wooden chairs and small circular tables. The three men wore scruffy beards and played guitars and drums. The woman had long black hair, wore a floral skirt, and played the fiddle. They were young and cool in their cowboy boots. Elise listened and wondered what it would be like to play an instrument. Maybe she’d try to learn guitar.