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Unlike Merrick.
We took our horses’ leads and led them out, Daisy with Mama’s horse. Boris went willingly, and Poppy and I met gazes, wondering if we’d misjudged the beast. Maybe he was feeling amiable today, in which case Poppy’s plans would be thwarted, and we’d be robbed of a chance to make a fool out of Merrick in front of Mama.
Until we were mounted.
Grant looked like a goddamn king on Tank, who was as big as Boris but with a regal temperament. He knew just when to listen and when not to.
Boris backed up, whinnying and stamping in protest. To his credit, Merrick did know how to control a horse, using the reins to show Boris who was boss and clicking his tongue.
“Here, let me help,” Poppy said innocently, trotting her mare, Ginger, over to Boris, knowing full well that Boris hated Ginger with deep and unmatched passion. Probably because Ginger hated him back and pissed him off at every turn. Like right then, when she bit Boris straight in the ass.
Boris bucked and took off, but Merrick held on. Until the horse ran under a low-branched tree, scraping Merrick right off his rear end and flat on his back in the dirt with an oof.
We were off our horses, with Mama yelling from the porch as she caught up. She practically threw herself onto the ground over Merrick, checking him frantically as he wheezed and choked and floundered around in the dust. The rest of us shared a long look. Poppy shrugged with an expression on her face that said she didn’t mean to, but he was probably fine, and also fuck him.
Mama shot us dead with her eyes. “Boris? You put him on Boris?”
“Somebody had to ride him,” Poppy noted.
“And it shoulda been you. You’re the only one who can ride him.”
“We understand each other,” she explained.
“Oh, don’t even say it, Poppy June,” Mama said as she struggled to help Merrick up. Grant found himself and moved to help. “You could have killed him.”
“He’s fine! Look, he’s not even scratched.”
Merrick gave her a look, but he couldn’t speak, not yet having found the wind that’d been knocked out of him.
“I am so sorry,” she said to him as they shuffled toward the house. “Come in and let me get you something to drink and we’ll see if you’re all right.”
We made to follow, but Mama met us with a glare that stopped us dead. “You three better make yourselves scarce. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Does that mean we’re not going to ride?” Poppy asked. When Mama’s head looked like it was going to explode, she said, “Fine. We’ll take care of the horses.”
She swung up on my horse and turned to chase Boris down, and Daisy and I led the other horses back to the stable, but we left ours out, deciding to go for a ride anyway. Couldn’t get more scarce than that. Within a few minutes, Poppy had Boris in tow and put his mean old ass back in his stall, praising him all the way.
And a couple of minutes after that, Mama came storming into the barn with hell on her heels and a thunderstorm at her back.
And so the three of us stood in the stable as Mama reprimanded us up, down, and sideways—inside out too, for good measure—like we were little girls again and not grown women. We were to apologize to Merrick, and if we ever pulled a stunt like that again, she swore she’d disinherit us, which wasn’t true, but it wasn’t a thing she threatened often. Only when she was very angry and very hurt.
When she’d whipped around to storm back to the house, she passed Grant, who she softened toward, touching his arm and nodding, apologizing if I had to guess. And then Grant headed to us, managing to both cringe and look amused.
“Is he okay?” Daisy asked.
“He’ll be fine. Always said he was a hardass.”
“Want to ride still?” I asked as he approached.
“I do. Plus, it’d be good to get out of shotgun range from the house. At least for Poppy’s sake.”
So we walked our horses out the other end of the stable and mounted up. And for a little while, we rode in silence.
As much as I hated Merrick, I loved Mama. And I understood what it was like to feel something for a man you shouldn’t. The proof was in a saddle at my side.
“We’ve gotta leave her and Merrick alone,” I finally said.
Poppy stopped so fast, Ginger sidestepped. “Why?”
“She likes him, Poppy.”
“So?”
“So, she’s right. She’s a grown-ass woman, and she likes him. She doesn’t want us to stop her any more than I want anyone to stop me from seeing Grant.” I felt Grant watching from next to me, felt the weight on my heart. “If anything changes, if we find out he has ulterior motives, then we can talk to her about it. Like adults. Until then, we leave her alone. Deal?”
