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While Gran rocked, the shard cut into the rope. Outside the pantry, Wolf and his goons were tearing up the house. They’d started in the kitchen, laughing and hollering as they smashed plates and glasses. Then we could hear them move on to destroying chairs and larger pieces of furniture.
I fought back tears. I needed to be strong for Gran. “I’m sorry, Gran,” I said.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“This is all my fault.”
She stopped rocking. “Don’t talk like that, Ruby. This isn’t your fault.”
“But I led them…”
“I was the one who ordered their rodeo shut down,” she said. “And I’d do it again.”
“Keep rocking, Gran,” I said. “It’s working. I can feel the rope loosening.”
20
Ryder
Whenever I’d get upset, I’d go for a walk in the woods. It calmed me down every time.
Why is it that it’s impossible to stay angry when surrounded by trees?
And why is it that it’s impossible for me to get through a simple breakfast without the past resurfacing and whipping me into a near rage?
I left my breakfast unfinished and headed out for Mayor Blanchette’s. I’d promised her I’d put up new shelves in her study, and I was genuinely looking forward to the work. But as soon as I saw the woods ahead, I knew that I needed to make a short detour. Otherwise, I was liable to arrive seething and might end up taking the hammer, not to put up shelves but to smash her house apart.
I had been making progress these last few months. The anger would still come, but I was aware of it and could take measures to quell it before acting out on it. But all that progress had come undone the instant I saw Ruby again.
Dammit, Ruby. Why couldn’t you stay in New York?
I was still thinking about Ruby when I stepped into the woods. Then, predictably, my thoughts strayed from being angry at Ruby to remember when we were good friends, remembering the laughs we’d shared and the good times we’d had.
Invariably, my sister, Tammy, was part of those memories. And so was Lincoln. We were a foursome, and for nearly three years, we were inseparable. Back then, I had even asked myself if I wasn’t in love with Ruby. Maybe I was. But we were good friends, so I never acted on it.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Tammy was having similar struggles with her feelings, too. She was in love with Lincoln. But, because they were good friends, she, like me, suppressed her feelings and never acted on them.
Ruby, however, didn’t have the same restraint.
Ruby!
When she and Lincoln became an item, that devastated Tammy. She would have learned to deal with it; she would have gotten over him if they’d been open about it. But Lincoln and Ruby preferred to be sneaky about it. And when Tammy saw them kissing out at Magnolia Stables, she must have felt crushed, betrayed by those she thought was her friends.
She took off running. With a broken heart and a broken spirit, tears probably blurring her vision, she ran through the riding ring, startling the horses.
I’d given up wondering if it was intentional or not. What did it matter? The result was the same. Tammy was gone.
Of course, I didn’t blame the horse. It was scared and startled. It only kicked out of reflex. It wasn’t at fault.
But her supposed friends? They had ditched her that night so they could sneak off for a kiss. If they’d been open and honest, if they’d been less concerned about their own desires and more concerned about their friend and her feelings, Tammy would still be alive today.
The detour through the woods was too short. I was still replaying the events of Ruby’s and Lincoln’s deception when Mayor Blanchette’s house came into view. I would have turned and continued my walk if not for the strange sight I saw in Mayor Blanchette’s backyard.
A horse.
Not accompanied, not tied up, just standing there looking around, moving its head back and forth, looking lost and out of place.
Why is there a horse in Mayor Blanchette’s backyard?
Maybe it was because I’d been thinking of Tammy, but when I saw the horse, I was overcome with an ominous feeling. Something was amiss.
So, with my anger still not completely quelled, I stepped out of the woods and into Mayor Blanchette’s backyard.
I approached with caution. “Hello, horse. My name’s Ryder. I’m a friend.”
It stared at me. Difficult to read the expression on the horse’s face, but I would have bet that it was not happy to see me. It looked scared—more scared than I was—and wary.
“I’m just going to pass around to the front of the house,” I said in a soft yet sure voice. “Don’t mind me, horse.”
I walked slowly and cautiously through the yard, keeping as far from the horse as I could. It watched me, looking like it might bolt either at me or away at any moment.
