Chapter twelve
Everett
I’m awake long beforethe sunrise, eager to start my day and show Ruth around. I don’t expect her to be up for a while yet, but she texts me just as the sky turns orange.
I forgot about the time zones.
I had been idly folding roses out of some old scrapbook paper Mom found in her desk drawer, but the second Ruth’s text lands, I’m out of bed and heading straight for the shower. I spend an extra few minutes taming my curls and combing the scruff on my face before running out the door without breakfast.
By the time I get to the main house, Ruth is in the kitchen with Mom and Harriet, flipping eggs like she belongs. Something flickers in my chest, settling over me like some kind of warm blanket. The way she’s laughing with my family, navigating my childhood home with a practiced ease. It says maybe this could be her home, too.
Four heads turn as I cross the kitchen threshold.
“Morning, son.” Dad stretches his arms over his head as his voice booms from the long, bench-lined table. Harriet raises a cup of coffee in my direction before taking a sip. Mom rounds the counter to pull me into a hug.
“Good morning, honey,” she says. Her lips twitch with more to say, but with our audience, she keeps those thoughts quiet. No doubt I’ll hear all of them later. Ruth slides an over-easy egg onto a plate withtwo triangles of buttered toast, before passing it down the counter to Harriet.
That’s my cue. With the spatula sat on the counter, I walk behind Ruth, wrapping my arms around her waist.
“Put me down, you brute!” Her squeals are punctuated with laughter as she bats at my hands, clasped together on her belly. I spin her away from the stovetop, just in time to catch Mom hide a smile behind her coffee cup as a horde of rowdy cowboys descend on her kitchen for breakfast.
“You ready to explore the ranch, Ruth?” I lower her back to the ground, slipping my hand from her waist to tangle my fingers with hers. “I thought maybe I’d take you to see some more of the horses this morning, maybe ride out to see some of the herds. It’s almost time we move them, anyway.”
“Ride? Like, ride a horse?”
“We don’t have to take horses, honey,” I say. There’s fear in her eyes, and it’s unsettling. “We can take the side-by-side instead.”
“Maybe a horse would be okay,” she says after a moment. She’s still uncertain, but I tighten my fingers around hers, and she squeezes back. “If you’re there with me.”
“I’ll be with you as long as you need, honey.”
Although Grover is a gelding with a steady temperament, I choose to let Ruth ride Della, instead. She’s as calm and as loyal as they come, and hand on my heart, there’s no horse I’d trust more—with my life, or with Ruth’s.
“Step up on this block, and then put your left foot in the stirrup,” I instruct. I hold the reins from Della’s right side, while Ruth stands on the left, hesitantly lifting her foot to the concrete block and replacing it on the ground again.
“You’re sure I won’t hurt her?”
“She’s good as gold,” I promise. “I trust this girl with my life. And with yours.”
“God help me. If I die, tell my mother I love her.”
With that, Ruth steps up onto the block and slips her foot into the stirrup in one swift movement.
“Now, swing your right leg over.”
She does as I say, and I catch her foot, guiding it into the stirrup on Della’s right side.
“Okay, now grab these reins.” I hand Ruth the reins, keeping one leather strap in my own hand. I check the fit of the saddle one more time. Ruth sits stiffly, an expression between awe and terror on her face.
“I’m on a horse,” she whispers.
“You’re on a horse, baby girl.”
“Now what?”
I reach up and tap the curve of her waist, right where it dips to her hip. “Loosen your hips, honey.”
“Loosen… my hips?”
