To Love a Stallion

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“I’m meeting John Stallion.”

He cut an eye in her direction, then nodded slowly. “He’s a good man, John is.”

“So you’ve said before.”

“Have I?”

Marah chuckled. “You know you have.”

Her father laughed with her. “So what are you two meeting about?”

“The ranch.”

Her father paused and Marah took advantage of the moment to try and plead her case.

“Daddy, he’s coming here because I’m hoping to convince him not to buy this ranch. We don’t need a new mall down here and this is our home. I don’t think you realize just yet what you’ll be losing.”

Edward stopped short, tossing Marah a look she couldn’t read, his expression one she’d not seen before. He studied her momentarily before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Your mother loved this ranch. She devoted her whole life to this place. I loved your mother and so I devoted my whole life to her and what she wanted.” The man blew a deep sigh before continuing. “I’m tired, munchkin. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t have any more of myself to give to this ranch and I don’t feel like I have to do it anymore now that your mother is gone.”

“But, Daddy…”

“But nothing. This part of my life is over. You might not like it but you’re going to have to accept it. I’m selling this ranch and if it’s not to the Stallions, then it will be to someone else. This place was your mother’s dream, Marah. I’m ready to go live my own dreams.”

“And do your dreams include that woman?” Marah asked, snapping unnecessarily.

“Watch you tone, young lady,” Edward admonished. “You ain’t that grown.”

Marah dropped her gaze to the ground, contrition spreading across her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant. And yes, my dreams now include Juanita. She’s very special to me. And I hope that you and your sisters will make a genuine effort to get to know her.”

Marah suddenly felt like she wanted to cry but she didn’t, willing the flush of saline not to fall from her eyes. Her father reached out a callused palm and lightly caressed the side of her face.

“Munchkin, your mother would be proud of you and she would want you to make your own dreams. Your mother loved life. She lived a good one. She would want you to do the same thing.”

Without another word, Edward left her standing alone. From his stall, Brutus whinnied for her attention, moving to nuzzle her arm with his nose as she drew closer to him. Reaching into her pocket, Marah pulled out a small red apple and passed it to the animal, brushing her palm against his head as she did. “This isn’t right,” she whispered out loud, thinking only the horse would hear her. “This just isn’t right, Brutus.”

“What’s not right?” John interrupted, easing his way inside.

Marah jumped, startled by his arrival. He was a few minutes early and she hadn’t been prepared to see him so soon. She shook her head. “Nothing. How are you?” she asked, fighting to put a smile on her face.

The man nodded. “I’m well, thank you.”

Marah nodded with him as she appraised his attire. “I should have forewarned you,” she said casually as she admired the designer suit and expensive shoes that blessed his broad frame. “We don’t usually wear our dress suits out here in the yard.”

John laughed. “I guess I am a little overdressed,” he said, admiring the fit of her tight jeans and plaid shirt. “I wasn’t expecting to get my hands dirty, though.”

“You have to get your hands dirty to appreciate this place,” Marah said, passing him a five-prong pitchfork as she grabbed another for herself.

The man grinned. “Is this some kind of test, Marah?”

“Not at all,” she said pointing him in the direction of an end stall. “The stables need cleaning and I figured we could get the job done and talk at the same time.”

John looked down to his leather shoes, his head still waving from side to side as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever it takes,” he said easily, moving to the area she’d pointed him to. “So, how often do you have to do this?” he asked.