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“Why do you think I’ve put you in the crop fields in autumn and spring?” I say because it’s true. “You’re good with the tractors. You’ve even fixed a couple for us.”
I won’t bring up how he almost overheated the ball bearings not too long ago. That would be like rubbing salt into a wound, especially since I’d suspected he was hungover all day.
“You’re right. I am good at it.” I can see the pride in his expression, more confidence than arrogance this time. “But Patricia loves those horses, and it’s a tradition in my family. My father was in the rodeo and could rope a horse like nobody’s business. Patricia already hears so much about my dad… If I could just get the same opportunity for a horse of my own to train, I could?—”
“You have plenty of opportunity with the horses,” Dad replies.
So there it is. This is about more than a promotion; it’s about wish fulfillment and leftover ghosts from Randy’s past. And maybe Porter being better at it than him, and also emulated by Pixie, eats away at him.
“I give you credit for trying so hard.” I look at Dad before I ask, “Do you want to train with one of the grooms? Like an apprenticeship?”
Dad nods like it’s a fair question. It might be a way for Randy to develop more of one skill or another if he wants it that badly. I’d hate for him to get more frustrated on his own or, God forbid, hurt in the process.
“Apprenticeship?” Randy acts like it’s a bad word. “Oh, I dunno about that. I thought I could just spend more of my time in the stables like?—”
“That’s after Porter’s chores are done or on his own free time,” I say. “You could do the same in the evenings instead of—” I stop myself in time. It would be counterproductive not to bite my tongue. Dad shifts in his chair, seeming relieved that I kept my head.
“Before we consider any of that, you need to get something else taken care of first,” Dad insists. “You need to get yourself healthy again.”
A flash of frustration crosses Randy’s features. “You put me in the stables, and I will. I…I’m perfectly capable of?—”
“It’s time to stop making excuses.” Dad gently taps his wrist. “If you want to make Pixie proud, that would be the first step.”
I lean forward to add, “Your job will be here if and when?—”
“What is this?” Randy stands abruptly, nearly toppling the chair. “Some sort of intervention?”
“We care about your and your daughter’s well-being. We just want you to get some help. Mrs. Sullivan has been looking into resources around Laurel Springs.”
Guess my parents really have been working behind the scenes on this.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” Randy bites out.
“Well, AA is free, and they hold meetings in one of the churches in town. If you decide you need something else, we can help defray the cost.”
Randy squeezes his eyes shut, looking defeated. Like the chicken has finally come home to roost, as they say.
Dad stands from the table, and I follow suit.
Dad and Randy shake hands. “Just asking you to consider your options before you decide.”
“Yes, sir.” Randy’s jaw is clenched, and I have a feeling he’s just yanking our chain. Or maybe I’m wrong and he’ll take a first step toward sobriety.
“Let’s check in on Pixie, and once you get her to bed,” Dad says, “Mrs. Sullivan will be sure to walk you through what she’s found.”
I hold my breath as Dad leads him to the living room. I don’t follow because I don’t want to make it more awkward. My parents have a strategy, let me in on part of it, and we’ll have to see how it all pans out.
I head out the door and down to the stable, hoping my instincts are correct.
As I step inside, the first thing I see is Porter’s hat hanging on a hook outside Storm’s stall. Like it belongs there. It makes my heart skip a beat as I approach.
Porter doesn’t startle upon seeing me, and I can see his eyes crinkling in a smile.
“You all right?” Porter asks, smoothing the brush down Storm’s coat.
The stallion let Porter mount him again today, so what Dad said to Randy is true. Porter was born for this.
“I am now.” I breathe out as relief courses through me.
