“He doesn’t trust them.”
“What happened to him?”
“His previous owner was a rich asshole who decided it would be fun to pretend to be a cowboy. He was impatient, mean, and inexperienced, and he wrongly believed the way to train a horse was by breaking their spirit and forcing them to obey you. Needless to say, that got him nowhere, and like a spoiled kid with a toy, he lost interest pretty fast. Then he stuck Barbie in a stable and all but forgot about him. This guy’s groundskeepers kept him fed and mucked out his stall, but they barely interacted with him. That was how Barbie spent the first three years of his life, so it’s no wonder he’s skittish and distrustful now.”
He picked up the bag of apples and took my hand, and as we made our way to the pasture, I asked, “How did he end up here?”
“His previous owner started dating someone and brought her to the ranch, probably because he was trying to impress her. That totally backfired. She was furious when she saw the way the horse was being neglected, and she threatened to report this guy for animal cruelty if he didn’t let her rehome Barbie. She’d heard of me through a mutual friend, and she called and begged me to take him. Even though I have room for twenty, I’d thought eighteen horses was my limit in terms of time and resources. I knew he'd need a lot of extra time and effort, but I couldn’t say no when I heard his story.”
“Is your goal to find him a new home when you’re done rehabilitating him?”
“That’s what I try to do with most of the younger horses that come through here,” he said, “but Barbie is learning to feel safe for the first time in his life. Instead of uprooting him at the end of this process, I plan to keep him.”
“You’ve obviously got your hands full with all of these animals, and you mentioned Dwight, your ranch hand, only works part time. Have you thought about hiring more help?”
“I should, but I have a hard time delegating. I also wouldn’t trust just anyone with the horses. Dwight’s a friend of mine from high school, and he volunteered here for two years before I finally hired him and moved some stuff from my plate to his.”
I would have asked more questions, except that we’d arrived at a wooden fence, and Ryder called, “Hey Luna girl, come say hi.” A beautiful gray horse with a white mane and tail sauntered over to us, and he patted her neck through the fence’s crossbars.
“There are a few key things to know about horses,” Ryder told me. “First and foremost, never stand behind them, because you might get kicked. Second, try not to startle them. They don’t like loud sounds or sudden movements. And third, remember that they pick up on your energy. If you’re feeling anxious, they will, too.”
“Good to know.”
“Let me introduce you to Luna. She’s one of the mellowest horses at the ranch.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Do you want to feed her an apple?”
I hesitated before saying, “Sure.”
He demonstrated the technique—palm up, hand flat so Luna didn’t mistake a finger for a carrot—and I held out the apple for her. I thought she’d pick it up with her teeth. Instead, she snuffled it off my palm with her big ol’ horse lips while I tried to hold still and act like a grown-up. What I really wanted to do was shudder and drop the apple, because that felt weird as hell.
Two more horses were making their way over to us, and Ryder asked, “Want to give them apples, too?”
I wiped my hand on my thigh and muttered, “You go ahead. I wouldn’t want to hog all the fun.”
I ended up following Ryder around for the next hour, and even though I repeatedly offered to help, he kept politely declining. Finally, I asked, “Do you keep turning down my offers because you hate to delegate, or because you think I’ll screw something up?”
“You’re on vacation. You didn’t come here to work.”
“I came here to spend time with you, not to sit around like a sloth.”
He gave in and let me help… kind of. After he scrubbed out a big, metal trough, he assigned me the task of sitting on a folding chair and holding the hose while it filled up. In the time it took me to do that, he went off and completed several more tasks. Iwas pretty sure that if I wasn’t here, he would have just hooked the hose to the edge of the tub and let it fill up on its own.
He was all smiles once I finished and he put the hose away. “That’s it for now,” he said. “I have the next several hours free. Later on, I’ll have to do my evening routine, which mostly involves getting all the animals where they need to be for the night. But that doesn’t take nearly as long as my morning chores.”
“You must be hungry,” I said, as we returned to the house with all the dogs and Jeff following us. “Want me to make some sandwiches or something while you get cleaned up?”
“Actually, I have something special planned for lunch. I’m going to need maybe half an hour to shower, change, and get everything set up. If you want, you can hang out on the porch with some lemonade while I do that.”
I chose to hang out in the living room instead. I had a project to work on, and there was a donkey, a goat, and two chickens on the porch. I didn’t want any of them involved in what I was doing.
When Ryder joined me sometime later, he was a different brand of sexy. He wore a white, button-down shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled back, along with faded Levis and sneakers. He sat down beside me and took a look at the pink satin gown in my hands. I’d been adding a delicate floral pattern made of iridescent seed beads to the bodice, and he said, “This is beautiful. Is it for school?”
“No. It’s one of the prom dresses I’m donating to the teens at the LGBTQ community center this year. I bought it at a thrift shop for five bucks, but by the time I get done with it, it’ll look very high-end.”
“That beadwork seems pretty time-consuming.”
