Page 38 of For Him

“You’ll see,” Weston addressed me and then turned to Keaton. “You think you can tack up Kip?” Keaton nodded and rushed off as Weston faced the rest of the group. “Well, go get your sleds!”

The cheers and grins that filled the kids' faces as they ran off poured dread into my soul. Agreeing to this insane idea was now coming back to bite me in the butt. Weston set down Millie who, being no more than four years old, toddled after the group of kids heading towards the row of houses where I could only assume their sleds were.

“Weston, you tell me what is going on right now or so help me,” I demanded.

He dipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “You ever heard of Skijoring?” I shook my head no as he scrolled through something. “Well, that’s kind of what we will be doing except with sleds. Unless Butch does find the skis but I wouldn’t recommend you try them if you’ve never skied before.” He scrolled a little longer and then handed me his phone.

I watched the video play with my jaw nearly on the floor. Horses had ropes tied to their saddles, pulling someone on skis behind them at full speed going over jumps and doing flips and grabbing rings off of posts and what not. Intense, terrifying, dangerous, and not to mention absolutely insane.

“I’m going to die,” I muttered while watching this.

Weston gently laughed. “I’ll go slow,” he said, and I turned to look at him, dazed and in shock.

Behind Weston came Keaton and Butch, who were carrying a pair of skis. Keaton was leading a beautiful bay horse with a thick black mane and rippling muscles that flexed with every step the horse took.

“Well, I guess this wouldn’t be the worst way to go out,” I muttered as Keaton and Butch reached Weston and I. Weston took his horse from Keaton and then began wandering towards the houses. We followed, the rest of the five kids joining with sleds tucked under their arms except for Millie. She dragged a small sled behind her, grabbing my hand the moment she joined us. I glanced down at the tiny mitten wrapped around my fingers, and my heart swelled up.

The kids talked and joked, the twangs from their accents thick in the air. We rounded the trail and continued up into the trees to the left. Passing through a dense patch of pines, snow not able to reach every part of the forest floor, we emerged onto a flat and wide open valley. Not a single track broke the freshly fallen snow in this glen, not a bump was in sight. This was the intended destination, and I knew it by each kid that set down their sleds along with Weston as he easily hoisted himself into the saddle.

He sat down with the softest bump; Kip barely even twitched as Weston settled onto the back of his horse. Butch clicked his feet into the skis and grabbed the end of a rope that was already attached to the seat. Suddenly, Weston spurred his horse forward, and they were off.

The kids around me squealed in glee as powder flew behind Butch on the skis, snow whipping off of the bottom of the horse that was galloping as fast as possible in the field. Weston turned his horse sharply, Butch whipped around on the skis, rapidly swinging back and forth. Suddenly, Kip dove sideways and Butch flew off, unable to hold on any longer.

The kids laughed and cheered as Weston slowed his horse to a trot and made his way back to the group. I shook my head. No way was I getting on a sled behind that death trap. Nope, nope. That was an absolute hard pass for me. What had I been thinking when I’d agreed to this? My brain had obviously gone towards a simple slide down a hillside, not intentional turns at full speed with the goal to fling the cargo across the ground.

“Who’s next?” Weston asked once he arrived back at the group. His horse pranced in place and snorted, steam rising from her nostrils.

All the kids raised their hands as Weston’s sparkling blue eyes rested upon mine. I shook my head, no way.

“Annie?” Weston asked, still not looking away and the oldest girl grinned, picking up her plastic sled from the ground. She had on a cowboy hat as well, but took it off, unlike Butch, and handed it to Keaton. Weston tied the sled string to the end of the rope that was attached to his saddle and then dropped it beside his horse.

Annie laid down flat on her belly, tucked her chin down, gripped the sides of the sled and nodded once like she was signaling to release a calf from a chute at a rodeo. Weston nudged Kip on who dug into the ground and shot forward. The sled jerked and then began flying behind horse and rider.

Same thing, sharp turns at high speed with Annie covered in a layer of snow before the sled dumped on its side and she was ripped from the plastic sheet. It tumbled and bumped along behind Weston and his horse as they slowed to a trot and headed back in the group's direction. This was not seriously what they had in mind, was it? And just leaving their passengers behind once they fell off seemed cruel. Butch was just barely returning to the group by the time Weston had arrived back at us.

“Who agrees that Doc Tenley needs a turn?” Weston asked, staring at me. The kids shouted in agreement around me, Millie squealing in glee. I shook my head, feeling my heart begin to race. It wasn’t death that was coming, it was cold and possibly a broken bone or two.

“Come on! You agreed to this,” Keaton said to my left and I glanced down at his freckled face, his cheeks red like Millie’s. The bright blue plastic sled was upside down and coated in snow, laying on the ground behind Weston. I closed my eyes. I wasn’t a chicken and had agreed, so just one time and that would suffice.

Opening my eyes, I hesitantly stepped through the group towards the sled and flipped it over. Making sure the strings weren’t twisted, I stared at my ride that sat waiting in front of me.

“You better not kill me,” I warned Weston who chuckled.

Laying down upon the cold and wet sled, my hands trembled as I gripped the edges. Squeezing as tightly as I could with my gloved fingers, I prayed that this wasn’t how I went out. Copying Annie, I tucked my chin, not wanting snow to go down my shirt, and nodded fervently.

“Hold on, darling,” Weston said, and he kissed at his horse. Closing my eyes tightly, I heard the hooves move and the string slide across the snow, and then suddenly I was jerked forward. It nearly tossed me at that moment.

And then I was flying.

The sled slithered across the snow, hoofbeats moving faster and faster as the wind crashed against my cheeks sharply stinging. But it was so freeing. Snow flecks splattered against my face as I felt the sled dip slightly and then swing around, turning. I laughed, truly and freely laughed, and cracked my eyes open.

“FASTER!” I shouted.

Weston glanced my way before pushing his horse from the leisure lope and into the gallop like he’d done with Annie and Butch. The kids were right, this was the most fun I’d had since I could remember.

Tightly gripping the edges of the sled, I ducked and turned with each movement, finding the rhythm of how the sled moved. Until Weston decided to cheat and jerked his horse in a tight spin. The sled suddenly went flying into the air. The moment it smashed into the snow, I was thrown.

White flakes poofed around me as I slammed into the powder, laughing. I laid there for a moment, with my eyes closed trying to catch my breath and ignoring the snow that had found its way down my coat. It was cold, but I didn’t care. Finally, I brushed the flakes left on my face away and stared up at the bright blue sky above me.

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