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“No way. I applied to work here because I want to be out there with the rest of them. This was my way in, but you’re my way out there.” He laughs a musical laugh. “No one is as excited about you being here as I am. Rhett promised me it would be temporary, just as soon as he found a groom to replace me, and boom, here you are. Better believe I’m gonna get you trained fast so I can be out there with the real cowboys.”
“You talk like you don’t think you are a cowboy.” The rhythmical sound of manure hitting the wheelbarrow, his forkful, then mine, feels as familiar as my favorite song, almost soothing.
“I came from the city. I’ve been here a year. I trained with Cookie in the kitchen, but he really doesn’t need me. Then I tried my hand at cows, but I can’t rope and my riding isn’t good enough to herd ‘em. I’m still new. Rhett stuck me as a groom hoping I’d learn a few things, I guess. And I’ve been riding this whole time, and grabbing any information anyone will give me, but I was worried I might never get a second chance until you showed up.” Silas must realize he’s gone off topic because he brings it back full circle again. “But no, I wasn’t raised on horses like the rest of these guys. I just always wanted to be a cowboy, so I’m here to learn so I can live that dream.”
“You know,” I take hold of the wheelbarrow handles to move it to a new area, “my Daddy always said cowboy is a state of mind, not a gage of talent. It has more to do with who you are inside, not what you’re capable of.”
Silas stops for a second, leaning on his manure fork. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, a real cowboy shows it in his action and choices. A real cowboy is kind to his animal and knows this is a partnership, not ownership. He treats people with respect and honors his integrity.” I resume my work. “Anyone can learn to ride and rope, but becoming a cowboy, a real cowboy, it’s about a whole lot more than that. I think you’re closer than you think, Silas.”
I cast a quick glance his way, pleased to see that boyish grin plastered all over his face. “Thanks, Sunny. I’ll have to think on that for a bit.”
A voice calls his name from outside the stall, and he leaves me to work. It’s certainly not my first time mucking stalls. It feels like a rite of passage for anyone in the equestrian field. I remember being six and handed my first manure fork. I could barely lift it all the way to the wheelbarrow, but I was determined to try. As I grew, I did less and less of it. Dad had staff members who kept things pristine around the barn. He always got after me for letting them do the work though.
“You never forget where you started, Honeybear. Stay connected to your roots, no matter what your bank account looks like.”
Pain pricks my heart at the sound of his voice in my head. I’ve tried to keep him from my mind, all cried out for the most part. I push the wheelbarrow down the hill to the pad where Silas told me to dump a full load. Hefting it up with a grunt, I shove the bucket forward until it empties. I start on my way again, but a flash of red in the underbrush catches my eye.
Curious, I drop the handles and move to investigate. Squinting, I struggle to make sense of it. Flashes of color, black and white with splotches of a deep red shade. I can’t decide if it’s garbage or if someone lost a sweater in the tall grass. I move to press the greenery back, but it takes all of three seconds to realize what I’m seeing.
Something killed a seagull and left a few parts of it in the grass. I turn quickly, trying to put the gruesome image out of my head. I want to forget the way its beak gaped open, the mess of feathers around the corpse, but especially the splay of blood in the grass.
But it’s the blood that seeps into my thoughts like a stain I can’t remove.
“No,” I whisper to myself, pressing the heels of my hands against my temples. “No, no, no, no.” But my mind won’t listen. Despite the lock bolted over the memories of that day, they burst out center stage. I see his body, the blood on the marble floor, the strange shape of him, twisted and contorted as he still reached out for me, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t there anymore. I lifted my hands to cover my scream, but the sight of my palms, drenched in dark crimson blood stole my breath away.
“SUNNY!” Silas shakes me again, pulling me up from where I must have collapsed on the ground. Eyes wide with worry, he grasps my wrists, forcing me to face him. “Are you hurt?”
Breaths heaving as if I ran at a sprint for a mile, I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Hogwash! I heard you screaming from the other side of the barn. What happened?”
I don’t have an answer, not one that feels sufficient if I reacted to the memory the way he says I did.
“I—there was a body.” I close my eyes, shutting the deadbolt on the memory and reclaiming my sanity once more. “In the bushes. It scared me.”
Silas drops his grip on my arms, leaving me to investigate. Ten seconds later, he gives his verdict. “It’s just a gull, Sunny. Some coyote got it, or maybe a fox. Ain’t nothing worth screaming about. Haven’t you ever seen a critter get munched before?”
The door to the memory rattles in my mind, but I refuse to allow it passage. I’ll never think about that day again. That’s my only option. That life is gone. I’m Sunny from California now.
“I guess not.” I spin around, trying to smile. “Sorry I startled you.”
He shakes his head like I’m the dumbest girl he’s ever met. “Gotta get a steel stomach, Sunny. You’re out in the real world now. Things live, things die. It’s the way of life. One thing passes on so another thing can live.”
I’m no stranger to the idea. Predators take a thousand different shapes. Some so unassuming, no one would ever see them coming. That’s how they get the most innocent.
“Come on,” Silas nods to the barn, “we’re running behind. Get the lead out, girl. You wanna show those new bosses you’re a good fit, right?”
I stay close on his heel because he’s right. Going back isn’t an option.
Forward into the unknown is all I have left.
Chapter 5
Rhett
I
