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If working with the public for over half her life had taught Gina one thing it was this: People were weird. Every day, in some small or large way, her theory was proved right.
For instance—the Hurlaheys, Mel and Melda, were nearly as interchangeable as their names. Short, round, with curly white hair that framed their always-flushed faces, they resembled a mini Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Gina would have thought they’d skipped the North Pole—leaving the elves, the reindeer, and Mr. Claus’s beard behind—if the Hurlaheys hadn’t cursed like rap singers and finished each other’s sentences as if they were literally of one mind.
“We’ve always wanted to come here,” Mel said. “Ride a goddamn—!”
“Horse,” finished Melda. “Damn straight. Go west, young—”
“Dude. Shi-i-i-it,” Mel said, then smiled with such beatific sweetness Gina was left thinking she couldn’t have heard what she had.
Since neither Mel nor Melda had ever ridden a horse, Gina assigned them the oldest, gentlest beasts in her stable. She apologized mentally to Lily and Viola. Although Gina doubted the mares would be disturbed by cussing as long as the words were uttered in the same matter-of-fact tone as all the others. Since this appeared to be Mel and Melda’s MO, Gina merely patted the mares on their noses and moved on.
Tim Gordon, newly divorced anesthesiologist, had brought his fourteen-year-old son to Colorado from Cleveland for a little bonding time. Unfortunately, all Derek cared about were his video games and that he’d had to leave them at home.
“The new Halo is coming out this week,” the kid whined.
“It’ll still be there next week,” his father said with the absent tone of one who’d already said the same thing two dozen times before.
“By then everyone will have beaten it but me.”
“Whatever,” Tim muttered, earning a glare from his son.
Gina glanced at Derek’s registration form. The kid had listed a fairly wide range of outdoor activities.
“Says here you’re good with a bow and arrow, as well as a rifle. And…” What was that scrawl? “Swords?” He must mean fencing. Derek shrugged. “Great!”
His shoulders straightened at her praise, and Tim cast Gina a grateful glance. Poor guy. It couldn’t be easy to share the kid with his mom. Gina had had plenty of divorced parents who brought their children here for some quality time together. The trip often got off to a rocky start, but once pulled away from cell-phone towers, cable TV, and video games both kids and their parents began to interact—usually for the better.
Gina eyed Derek, sizing him up for the perfect mount. The boy was too skinny, which went against everything she’d read about his generation—allergic to exercise, with a junk-food addiction. Sure, he could use some sun on his pasty white face, but that’s why he was here.
“You’ve ridden before.” She glanced at the paper again. “A lot.”
“I kicked Red Dead Redemption. And I rule Assassin’s Creed.”
Gina paused. Was the kid speaking in tongues?
“I … uh…” She glanced at Tim. “Huh?”
“Games.” Derek’s dad rubbed his eyes. “Those are video games with horses.”
Derek wandered off to stand at the fence, watching Mel and Melda ride Lily and Viola sedately around the paddock.
“He’s never ridden?” Gina asked.
“An actual horse? No.”
“And the archery, the rifle?”
“Turok and…” Tim’s face creased. “SOCOM.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that his experience with a sword wasn’t in fencing club.”
“Gods of War.”
Now Gina rubbed her eyes. “I don’t think our program is the best idea for your son.” Gina glanced at Mel and Melda, wishing she could take at least one of those horses back, though even a gentle mare might not be gentle enough for a kid who’d ridden nothing but a couch his entire life. “He could get hurt.”
Tim’s gaze went to Derek. The boy still stood at the paddock fence, although he appeared to be either texting or playing a game on his phone instead of watching the live action, which, considering that action was old folks on old horses, Gina kind of understood.
“I just wanted him to do something outside this summer.”
