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“Alright. Just hold out your hand flat like that, and she’ll take what she wants,” Miguel instructs.
The horse’s teeth aren’t sharp, but they’re big, and I feel like she could just bite my hand right off if she wanted to. She doesn’t though. She delicately picks all four of the carrot pieces from my palm, then nuzzles Miguel a last time before wandering away.
He smiles at me and gives me a little nudge on my shoulder. “Just like giant puppies.”
“That you can ride,” I point out.
He shrugs, still smiling. “My abuela had this huge mastiff when I was a kid. I could ride him just like a horse. She still has the pictures.”
I grin in spite of my still-frayed nerves. I never had anything like that growing up. My grandparents were always a little weird about my parents adopting some kid with no traceable background. Especially one who looked like me with all my thick dark hair and furry brows. At best, I have some awkward Christmas photos where I’m sitting at the very end of the couch in a frilly red dress and strappy black Mary-Janes next to my grandma’s mean Yorkie.
“Can I ask you something?” I say after we start to wander away from the gate.
He nods, his gaze still out on the two animals, who are wandering farther away.
“Do you like it here?”
He turns to me with a small frown. “What do you mean?”
I wave my hand at all the trees. “All of this. It’s so far away from everything, you know?”
His mouth is smiling, but his brow is still furrowed. “Isn’t that the point? That’s why most people come up here.”
I try not to scoff. “I’mhere because my best friend bullied me. I’m…”
“A city girl?” he says.
“I don’t rough it very often,” I confess. “Or, like, ever.”
He laughs. “I can tell. And I don’t mean that as an insult.”
I believe him, even though it does make me feel self-conscious. “You just… seem so happy.”
He lets out a slow breath, then shrugs. “I tried it the city way. I grew up in a small town on a little ranch in Arizona. I went into the military after that and served my four years, got out, went to college. Then I met René, and I followed him around, working odd jobs. He liked the cities—he grew up in Montreal, and it was all he knew. But when my old army buddy called and said he was setting this place up, I knew it was where I wanted to be.”
“And René… he was happy with it?” I ask.
He cocks his head to the side. “You thinking about running away, chiquita?”
I laugh, though the idea sparks the strangest fire in my gut because I really am not built for a place like this. I shake my head though. “I guess I just want to understand. Everyone always says the grass is greener—that no place can really make you happy. And the city’s so… harsh and cold.”
“It is,” he says quietly. “I love it here, but not everyone feels that way. René took some adjusting. It almost broke him a couple of times because out here, you got no one but yourself.”
I don’t tell him I figured that one out about five minutes after sitting alone in my room.
“In the end,” he says with a smile and a shrug, “we found the compromise that worked for us. We got a place in the city that we live in during the winter when the horses are stabled off property.” Miguel turns his gaze away again. “And in the spring and summer, we’re here.”
It’s something I don’t really understand, but the way he says it with such contentment in his voice makes me realize I want to. It doesn’t have to be like this—the way he found it—but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, love like he found is something I’m craving.
