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“And just when I thought you couldn’t be any more amazing. You are outamazing yourself.”
“It’s fun keeping you on your toes, Mr. Pearce.”
“And you do it so well, Mr. Sheridan.”
After a quick peek into the hayloft, because Josiah had never been in one before and probably never would again—the vertical wood-slat ladder made him a little dizzy—Michael walked Josiah through the process of taking out Shirley Temple. Then he brought out another horse named Mercutio for himself to ride. Josiah couldn’t quite haul himself up into the saddle, so Michael brought out a small, two-step stool.
“It’s how we all learned to mount as kids,” Michael said. “You have to work on the core strength as well as the right push-off from the ground. You’ll get there.”
“Hope so.” He was a tad jealous of how easily Michael mounted Mercutio, but the man also did this for a living. He’d better be good at it.
Once they were both situated, Michael led them out. Josiah gently nudged Shirley Temple in the flanks like Michael told him, and the big horse lurched forward. Her gentle, plodding motion felt a bit like being in a small boat on the rolling ocean, and Josiah relaxed into the movement. Michael went east, over sprawling grasslands dotted with the occasional small tree or huge chunk of rock.
The breeze blew steadily around them, and Josiah was glad he’d worn his winter coat. For a long time, the only sound was the rustling of grass, the thump of hooves, and the creak of leather. They didn’t talk; there was no need. This wasn’t about conversation, it was about the experience they were sharing. Michael looked so gorgeous on his horse, straight-backed and square-shouldered, his hat casting shadows across his handsome face. Everything from the jeans to the boots to the denim jacket was the picture of an American cowboy.
My reluctant cowboy. Don’t ever change, Michael.
Michael picked a spot near a mostly dry creek. The dirt channel was about four feet wide, with the smallest trickle of water dancing down its path. “It runs heavy after a good rain,” Michael said. “We don’t use it much this time of year, but come spring it’s a good pasture for the herd.”
“Gotcha.”
Dismounting his horse was an even bigger challenge than getting up, but Michael gave him a hand down. Without a stool, Josiah would definitely need a boost to get back up later.
For now, they spread a blanket over a patch of dry earth and settled in with sandwiches, apples, a bag of pretzels to share, and bottles of water. Not fancy food but that didn’t matter. Again, it was all about the experience, and Josiah loved being here with Michael. Doing something as simple as eating a ham and cheese sandwich while their horses grazed nearby.
“Have you thought about keeping your own horses again?” Josiah asked.
“Sometimes. Even after Dad sold the herd, we did keep our horses for a few years longer. Mom couldn’t seem to part with them. She loved riding. We both did. Sometimes we’d go out together, just to ride and feel the sun on our faces, the wind all around us. Having to sell them hurt a lot. I don’t think she ever fully forgave Dad for that, even though we couldn’t afford them anymore.”
“Those sound like wonderful memories. Riding with your mother, I mean.”
“I know what you meant, and they are. For as awful as her death was, it’s a lot easier to remember all the good things than it used to be. Going home and facing your ghosts isn’t for everyone, but it was definitely what I needed to do. To face them down and forgive Dad for the things I blamed him for, especially the things that weren’t his fault.”
“You got closure.”
“I think I did.” Michael clicked his tongue. Mercutio wandered over and took the apple core from Michael’s palm. “I’m done passing blame and holding anger inside. I did that for half my life and I lost almost everything. It made me realize the things I truly needed were here the whole time.”
Josiah squeezed his wrist. “I’m glad to be a small part of that journey.”
“You are definitely not a small part.” Michael hauled Josiah onto his lap and wrapped two strong arms around his waist. “You are a hugely important part. Never doubt that. Whether my Austin house sells today or in ten years, I’m here, now. Taking things one day at a time. And to answer your question from earlier, I like the idea of owning horses again. I can’t afford it right now, and the barn is nowhere near ready to house a cat, much less a horse, but maybe one day.”
“Cool. Because I can see myself really liking this whole horse riding thing. It’s freeing in its own way.”
“It is. Just wait until you learn how to gallop. There is nothing more freeing to me than galloping across the open countryside, with nothing around you except Mother Nature and all her glory.” He nuzzled the side of Josiah’s neck with his nose. “I didn’t have that in Austin. Maybe that’s why I disappeared for so long. I tried to be someone I’m not.”
“A city boy?”
“Yep. A rich city boy. Don’t get me wrong, the money was really nice. Not worrying about budgets and if fixing the car meant not paying the electric on time. I took for granted having more money than I needed, and I will never do that again. I’ll never take anything I have for granted.”
Josiah kissed him, a leisurely exploration that didn’t deepen. Even though they were very much alone and the horses wouldn’t care, Josiah wasn’t into outdoor sex. Too many bugs and itchy things that could get into sensitive places.
They packed the food up and lazed around on the blanket for a while, pointing out shapes in the clouds above, until the sun started getting a bit too low on the horizon. Josiah needed a big boost from Michael to get back on Shirley Temple and thankfully, the big beast simply stood there while he struggled to right himself in the saddle.
Michael swung up like the professional he was, backpack and all, and they headed back to the barn. By the time they returned, the sun treated them to a brilliant color display as it set in the west, pulling the curtains on another day in the tiny town of Weston, Texas. When they finished untacking the horses, Brand appeared and invited them to Sunday supper. Josiah politely turned him down, eager to get home and check on Elmer. Today was the longest he’d been on his own in one stretch since the stroke.
Three vehicles were in the wide driveway, which wasn’t altogether odd on a Sunday, since Pastor Lorne still stopped by to visit, but it seemed awfully late. And that wasn’t the preacher’s usual black sedan. The unfamiliar vehicle was a two-door sports car, similar to what Michael drove, and Josiah was pretty sure the brand was a hybrid.
“What the hell?” Michael said as he jerked the gearshift into park.
