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“It’s about Harley!”
Harley? She tossed off her covers and stumbled down the narrow hall to the kitchen, hands brushing the walls to keep her bearings. Her wrinkled sleep shirt swung around her knees.
She mouthed “Thanks” to her mother and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you, Amberley, what with, ah, all you’re going through and all.”
Harley’s stable owner, Benny Jordan, an asthmatic former champion roper turned rodeo clown who’d retired to this area fifteen years ago, breathed noisily into the phone.
“Is Harley okay?” Her fingers gripped the handle hard, and she dropped into the seat her mother pulled out. Inside her chest, her heart skittered every which way. Although it’d been weeks since she’d seen Harley, not a day passed where she didn’t wonder how he was doing and if the stable was taking good care of him. Prior to her accident, they’d spent most of every day together. Now, the thought of seeing him again only reopened the wound of all that she’d lost.
When her mother pointed at the phone, then her ear, Amberley nodded, fumbled around for the speaker button, then pressed it.
“Well, now. That’s the thing. See. He’s not eating like he should.” More wheezing, then, “Been skittish when folks come near. This morning, I sent in Joan to muck out his stall.”
Joan? A former rodeo pro herself, she’d become the local horse whisperer and founded the equine therapy program they ran out of Harley’s stables. She had much more important things to do than clean stalls.
“Did something happen?”
A kettle whistled, and her mother’s chair scraped back as she rose to grab it.
“Well. Now she’s going to be fine.”
“Benny. What happened to Joan?” Her pulse picked up tempo and her fingers drummed along with it on the wooden tabletop. Across the way, she glimpsed her mother’s form twist to face her. Something hung from each hand. Mugs, Amberley guessed.
“The doctor says it’ll heal in about six weeks.”
Alarm bells shrilled in her ears. “What happened?”
“Harley busted out her kneecap. Kicked her full on.”
Every bit of air in her lungs rushed right out of her. “I’m so sorry.”
The sound of poured liquid reached her ears followed by the rip of paper as she imagined her mother opening tea bags.
“Not your fault.”
But it was. She saw that suddenly. “I should have been down to care for Harley.”
“Understandable that you haven’t.” She heard a couple of quick inhaler puffs from his end. Then, “Sorry to bring you the bad news, but I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to house Harley anymore.”
She hung her pounding head. “Is that final?” Jordan Stables provided the only home Harley had ever known. If he couldn’t manage there, who knew where he’d end up?
The painful thought of being separated from him branded itself on her heart, burning straight through.
And it’s not like you’ve done anything to help, whispered that angel on her right shoulder.
What’s the point? whispered the devil. Not like you can ride him again. Care for him.
But she and Harley had a bond that went deep. Besides handling him morning and evening, she’d talked to him a lot. While grooming him, or letting him eat “better” grass on the stable’s front yard, she’d filled him in on rodeo winners, cried over barrel racing icon Scamper’s passing, sympathized with his “picked last in gym” herd status, and generally kept up a running conversation. She believed she could rattle on about the rising price of corn feed and Harley would think all was right with the world.
And after her father’s cancer diagnosis, Harley had been there. She’d cried lots of tears into that silver mane of his. Had hung on to him when it’d felt as though her whole world was falling apart. He kept her from crumbling, too. She never could have gotten through that terrible time without him...or Jared...
Abandoning Harley was inexcusable.
A spoon clanged against ceramic. Her unflustered, steely-souled mother stirring the tea.
Daddy’s last words came back to her. “I know you’re going to be okay. You are strong.”
And she’d believed it, until now.
“When do you need Harley gone by?”
“Joan’s in quite a state, as you can imagine. She’s got students booked for her program, and now she’s laid up. Plus, we won’t be able to get anyone to care for Harley. So—”
“I’ll come down,” she cut him off.
A hand appeared in her line of vision, and the mug her mother set down banged against the table. Puffs of pungent steam swept off the surface and curled beneath her nose.
“Not sure if that’d make a difference.”
“If I keep up his stall, can he stay? Least until I figure out next steps?”
She could see general shapes when she was close-up and in small spaces, like a stall. Heck, she’d cleaned the stable’s stalls so many times, she could do it blind. It’d hurt to be nothing better than a stall mucker, but she’d do anything to help the horse that’d done so much for her.
Benny made a noise like a shrug. “Well. That’d solve some of the issues.”
“Some?”
“He’s not socializing well with the other horses in pasture. Acting out.”
“Needs exercise,” her mother murmured beside her.
“That Charlotte?” Benny hollered.
“Howdy, Ben!” her mother called. “Just thinking there isn’t anything wrong with Harley some regular riding wouldn’t sort out.”
“That a fact.”
Amberley’s body tightened, her muscles clenched. She’d been resisting her mother’s plea to sell Harley. Now it seemed she faced a rock-and-a-hard-place decision. Sell Harley, or find a way to interact with him that wouldn’t leave her feeling worse than ever.
She’d avoided anything that reminded her of the old days. Had asked her mother to remove all her trophies. Stopped listening to rodeo on the radio. Cut Harley and Jared right out of her life. Now she understood how much her decisions affected others. Jared called her selfish, and he had the right of it when it came to Harley.
A steel band tightened around her chest at the thought of letting Harley go. Yet Harley’s needs mattered most. First step, visit Jordan Stables, settle him down, get him comfortable and put out feelers for buyers.
Champion barrel racers like Harley sold quickly. He might even make the ERA Premier touring team she’d dreamed about, and he deserved that spotlight. The glory. He’d trained hard for it, right alongside her.
She recalled something she’d read on a poster once: “If you love something, let it go, even when you know it’s never coming back.”
Or something like that.
It applied to her and Jared, too.
“Just give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be down.”
“Mighty appreciated,” Benny said, then hung up.
A little while later, her mother pulled to a stop in front of Jordan Stables. The familiar scents of manure, hay and horse assailed Amberley as she eased out of the car and stood with a hand on the warm car hood. Memories, sharp and sweet, rushed through her, stinging her eyes and heart. Once this had been her sanctuary. Now she felt like a stranger. Worse. Like she didn’t belong.
“Howdy, ladies.” Benny’s unmistakable twang rang out.
She turned in the direction of his voice and recognized the barrel shape of him, the rolling gate of his bowed legs. He wore the same ten-gallon hat. That much she could make out. As for the rest, her memory about the grizzled man filled in the blanks.
“How’s Joan?” Amberley jumped, then swatted at a biting horsefly. In the distance, a group of riders lined up atop horses in one of the corrals.
“Resting for now, otherwise I’d take you to her.”
“Please give her this and our apologies.” Charlotte handed over a couple of banana walnut loaves she’d baked this morning. The sweet, nutty smell passed beneath Amberley’s nose as the foil-wrapped rectangles exchanged hands.
Now that Amberley thought about it, her mother cooked a lot lately and she’d taken time off from work to care for her. Was her career suffering? Did she resent being tied to the house alongside Amberley? Regret flashed inside. She didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. She’d been taught better than that.
Amberley’s life might be done, but that didn’t mean the same was true for her mama. Or Jared. Or Harley.
She had to find a way to cut ties with all of them. Otherwise she would bring them all down.
“That’s mighty kind. Thank ya,” wheezed Benny.
“Wish we could do more,” her mother demurred.
Speaking of which...
“Mind if I go and check on Harley?”
“Still got him in the third stall.” A sweep of movement, Benny’s arm, she guessed, pointed her in the right direction.
“Thank you.” She took a tentative step toward the long, ramshackle building that housed most of the stable’s horses. Overhead, birds twittered among the rustling branches of the mighty oaks that covered much of the property. A horse’s neigh spurred on two more, and a shifting movement from the mounts in the corral caught her eye. Her foot encountered something sticking up from the ground, a root maybe, and she stumbled forward, only to feel her mother’s hand at her elbow, steadying her.
“Got you, honey.”
Amberley swallowed down the loss of all that she couldn’t see and focused on Harley. Several paces farther and her fingers brushed the rough edge of the half door to his stall. Inside, a large black shape lifted its head and twisted its neck to eyeball her.
“Hey, Harley,” she cooed, and he lowered his head and blew. His stamping hooves shifted through the straw bed. “Sorry I haven’t been around.”
Lifting the hard metal latch, she eased open the door and made to slide inside.
“Honey. That may not be safe,” her mother cautioned.
“It’s Harley.”
In an instant, she threw her arms around his warm neck and buried her face in his tangled silver mane. When had he last been brushed? The rise of dust from his pelt itched her nose, and she sneezed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she crooned, and Harley dropped his head to her shoulder at last, nickering, shaking slightly in his withers. “Should never ever have abandoned you.”
Another rumble emerged from the back of his throat. His soft lips brushed against her jawbone and his warm breath rushed by her ear.
“I was scared. Still am. But I’m going to do right by you now,” she vowed, feeling around for a brush. Harley needed her and she needed him. That was plain.
An hour later, she and her mother led Harley by a corral on their way to the pasture. The rise and fall of excited children’s voices indicated a lesson in progress.
“You need to wear your helmet,” she heard an adult exclaim.
“Watch her back brace,” someone else warned.
“No! I don’t want to!” she heard a girl scream. “Please don’t make me. Please!”
Harley slowed and his ears twitched. She clucked to keep him moving, but he seemed more interested in the commotion. Was this the therapy program her doctor had mentioned? If so, good thing she hadn’t joined it. Why force people with disabilities to confront everything they couldn’t do? It was demoralizing.
“Is that Amberley James?” she heard someone squeal. She froze.
“Yes, it is!”
“Amberley!”
A rush of movement, color and shapes, closed in on the fence. Harley sidestepped but otherwise stayed calm.
She’d gotten recognized plenty in her old life. But now, she just wanted to be forgotten. Since she had stayed away from the news, she hadn’t yet heard how the rodeo community responded to her vision loss. Her mother and her agent resolved her former contract obligations. That much she knew, but little else.
Still, she couldn’t deny that a bead of warmth expanded inside at the children’s excitement to see her.
“Howdy,” she called in their general direction.
“Ride? Ride? Ride?” demanded a little boy. A blur of motion at his sides suggested he flapped his hands.
“Can you teach me to be a barrel racer?” asked a child who didn’t appear to have any hair given the bare flesh tone surrounding her head.
Cancer?
Her heart squeezed.
“Oh. No. I—uh—I don’t ride much anymore.”
“See!” cried the child she’d heard earlier. “Amberley’s blind like me and she won’t ride, so I don’t have to either. I want to go home!”
“Well. Ah...” She stalled, unable to agree with that sentiment. Riding helped her during the years her thick glasses made her feel different from other kids. Working with horses gave her a taste of success and achievement. She didn’t want this little one to leave defeated because of her.
“It sure would mean a lot to the kids if you’d join us today,” said a voice she recognized. Joan’s daughter, Belle, home from college. “Not to mention we’re a bit understaffed at the moment.”
Amberley winced, thinking of injured Joan and Harley’s role in it. She owed it to the Jordans to help. At least for today.
