Another Kind of Cowboy (17 page)

MARCH 10

I FOUND JENNY
lying on her horse in the warm-up ring.

“Hey,” I said, leaning up against the fence. I was trying not to cry, so it seemed like a good idea to keep words to a minimum.

“Ugh,” said Jenny.

“Are you riding soon?”

She sat up and stretched her arms to the sky.

“I suppose so,” she said.

“Jenny!” barked a voice. “Get that mare moving. Now!”

I looked over to see Stoneleigh's head coach, Vanessa Pringle, stride into the ring. Coach Pringle was probably in her midthirties, but working at
Stoneleigh had aged her. She had one of those figures people call boyish and she always seemed right on the verge of having a coronary, like a big-league football coach. If anyone could use a day-long spa treatment, it's her. As she walked into the middle of the ring, she swept her cap off her head. Her short hair was crushed against her scalp. She brushed it back a couple of times, then jammed the hat back on her head.

“Have you moved this horse at all?” she asked Jenny.

Jenny grinned down at her. “I didn't carry her into the ring.”

“Smart-ass. Have you warmed her up?”

“Felicity did.”

“I don't want to know,” said Coach Pringle. “For God's sake, at least walk her around until it's your turn so she doesn't tear something.”

Jenny saluted languidly and moved Rio off in a slow-motion walk.

Coach Pringle came and leaned against the fence near me.

She looked at me briefly. “You're the one with the big Holsteiner mare. You ride dressage.”

I nodded.

“Bloody nice horse,” she said. “You ever jump her?”

I shook my head.

“Those two,” she said, gesturing at Jenny, who was now listlessly trotting her horse around, “are a disaster. Lovely horse, talented rider, both headed straight into the crapper.”

She watched as Jenny took Rio over a jump that was at least chest level, then brought her back to a walk.

“You know, if you were my kid, I'd tell you to be careful around that one,” said Coach Pringle, letting her gaze rest on Jenny, who was slumped in the middle of the ring again. “You don't want to get mixed up in her scene. Trust me on that.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, even though I knew it was too late.

 

I watched part of Jenny's ride but after they barely cleared the huge second jump I started to feel dizzy and had to leave. I was practically hypothermic, so I went and stood by my car, which Jenny has nicknamed the Soccer Mom Mobile. I couldn't bring myself to get into it.

I don't know when I've ever felt so lost, although
to my knowledge, I've never really been found.

What was I doing?

I was still standing there ten minutes later when Frieda walked up.

“Cleo,” she said in her husky voice. Frieda's one of Jenny's friends. With her wild, curly hair she stands about seven feet tall. Frieda is the coolest girl at Stoneleigh. She doesn't ride and she never attends classes. All she does, as far as I can tell, is look good. She has this effortless, just-rolled-out-of-bed-with-a-rock-star-at-the-Chelsea-Hotel look we are all aiming for.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked. Her navy pea coat was unbuttoned, her inexpertly knitted scarf so long it nearly brushed the ground.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Come on.” I turned and followed her back toward the rings.

Jenny and Rio stood just outside the jumper ring. Coach Pringle was talking to Jenny and gesturing unhappily.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” Coach Pringle yelled.

I couldn't hear Jenny's reply.

“I know you don't think I'm serious, but you're
wrong,” blared Coach Pringle.

“Uh-oh,” said Frieda in this very unconcerned way.

As we watched Jenny get chewed out, I heard someone near us grumble, “Those private school bitches think they're all that. Half of them can't even ride their fancy horses.”

I turned to see who had spoken. A small group of riders in post-ride sweats and coats stood off to one side. I was glad my uniform was hidden under my duffel coat, but Frieda turned and fixed the girl with eyes like laser beams. Her untamed hair was electric and her long, slim neck made her look like an angry swan.

“What did you say?” she asked.

The girl who'd spoken blushed and stepped back behind her friends.

“Maybe they're stoned, eh?” whispered another girl in the group, making a play on the name of our school that was only funny when we said it.

Just then Jenny walked up leading Rio, and the potential rumble was averted.

“Cleo, my man, I need a drink,” said Jenny as she handed me the reins.

I looked over to see Frieda still glaring at the girls.

Jenny didn't seem to notice or care. “Come on, ladies,” she said. “Let's go get wasted.”

Frieda and Jenny stalked off like two noblewomen who'd just come off a foxhunt. I followed, leading Rio. Like a stablehand.

“Cleo, hon. Rio goes in there,” said Jenny, pointing to a stall with the Stoneleigh Academy white-board hung on the front. Most of the other Stoneleigh signs had the horse and owner names as well as emergency contact information printed on them. The stall Jenny pointed to had only the school name. Jenny hadn't filled out Rio's information.

“Frieda and I are just going to take care of some business. We'll be back in a few minutes.”

Then Jenny and Frieda disappeared and left me holding Rio.

I led the leggy chestnut mare into her stall, untacked her, and put her cooler on. I carried her saddle and bridle and splint boots over to the Stoneleigh trailer and got her a flake of hay. I filled her water bucket. Then I found the messiest and worst organized grooming box, guessing that it was Jenny's. As I worked I felt virtuous and a little self-righteous. I reflected that this must be how Alex feels all the time. I wondered who was taking care of my
horse. Well, obviously, Alex was. He and Fergus and Ivan. They would never let anything happen to Tandava.

Rio stood between me and the door to the stall as I brushed her. I could hear some of the other girls from school coming back from their rides.

“Holy near-death triple,” one girl said as she led her horse into the stall beside us.

“No shit,” said another.

“I'd love to know why they have to make every course as complicated as possible.”

I smiled. Doesn't matter what discipline you ride. Complaining is a language all horse people speak. I felt warm and safe in the stall with Rio as she peacefully munched her hay.

“You see those girls talking to Frieda?”

“Frieda was here?”

“Yeah. She was waiting for Jenny.”

Somebody muttered something I couldn't hear.

“What?” said someone else.

“It's no wonder the locals are throwing us attitude.”

“What do you mean?”

“Frieda and Jenny are hard-core, man.”

Another mumble.

“Jenny's okay.”

“Jenny can't remember a jump course to save her life. She's going to ruin that horse.”

Abruptly the voices stopped and I heard footsteps come toward Rio's stall.

I stayed absolutely still in the shadows of the corner as someone looked in.

The footsteps retreated and the voices continued, “Come on, we all know she's gone over to the dark side.”

“Don't exaggerate. She just likes to party.”

“If that's what you want to call it.”

“English, please.”

“She's been doing the big H.”

“Shut up.”

“For real.”

“So what, she's like some IV drug user now? A junkie?”

“I don't know if she's doing needles, but she's definitely smoking it.”

“Jenny's a bit of a lush puppy, but she's not a…a smacker.”

“I believe the term is
smackhead
. And yes, she is. Rachel saw her doing it at a party.”

“You gonna tell Coach?”

“Are you kidding? She's already on the verge of kicking Jenny off the team.”

“Damn. I was hoping we'd win this year. It's not going to happen if our top rider's some addict. Anyway, why couldn't she get addicted to something that's at least performance enhancing?”

“Like Christopher Jones. He's a coke fiend and he won a World Cup.”

“You should suggest it to her.”

They all laughed.

“'Course, he got caught and now he's suspended for life.”

“Details, details.”

“Hey, you should probably check and see if Rio has some food. Jenny never even brushes that horse anymore. It's a miracle she's still on four legs.”

“Totally neglected.”

I moved farther into the dark corner of the stall behind Rio when someone walked over and looked in.

“Yeah, she's eating. She'll be fine.”

While the other Stoneleigh girls laughed and joked and put their horses away, I huddled in the corner, trying not to make any noise.

MARCH 10

HE'D BEEN WALKING
Detroit in the field behind the indoor arena for almost an hour when Chris found him.

“Is everything okay? You've been walking around back here for quite a while now. You're missing the rest of the show.”

“It's fine,” said Alex. He knew he sounded irritable. Impatient.

Chris pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his parka.

“When you get finished, do you want to do something? You know, later. With me and Sofia, or…” Chris hesitated. “Or just me.”

Alex wanted to face Chris and tell him about
everything. That he'd lost his horse and his best friend. But he was afraid that if he started he'd break wide open. He couldn't handle any more attachments. He didn't want any kindness or pity. He didn't want any risk. So he kept walking as he spoke.

“No. I've got to go home.” He kept his eyes on Detroit so he wouldn't have to see Chris's reaction.

There was silence for a moment and Alex knew Chris was waiting for him to say something, but he kept quiet. Eventually Chris said, “You know, Alex, I…” He stopped.

Alex looked up.

“I'm your friend,” he said. “If you want to talk.”

Friend,
thought Alex.
Great
.

“I'm fine. See you later,” said Alex.

Chris bit his lip and then turned and walked back toward the road. Alex watched him go. He was too cold to feel the regret he knew was coming.

 

For once, Fergus and Ivan looked their ages. Alex knew it was because one of their students had gotten drunk and abandoned her horse at the show and the other was nearly catatonic after losing his horse to a vindictive owner.

“Damn,” muttered Fergus, who was behind the
wheel. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”

Ivan just stared out the window.

“It's okay,” said Alex from the backseat. “I mean, I don't think Ms. Reed's going to send Detroit for dog food or anything.”

No one laughed.

After several minutes Fergus spoke. “You had a lovely ride today,” he said.

Alex cleared his throat and blinked quickly.

“I know this…this business with Ms. Reed is disappointing,” continued Fergus. “The world's full of disappointments.”

Ivan made a rude, snorting sound from the passenger seat.

“What?” asked Fergus.

“Bah,” said Ivan. “He doesn't need the patitudes.”

“
Platitudes
. And yes, this is precisely the sort of situation that calls for a platitude.”

Alex smiled. Something about the exchange between the two men was making him feel better.

When they pulled into the Fords' driveway Fergus and Ivan got out and helped Alex unload Detroit. Tandava whinnied loudly as her companion backed out of the trailer.

“Thanks,” Alex told his coaches, who stood shoulder
to shoulder in the failing afternoon light.

“You're okay, then?” said Fergus.

Alex nodded, too full of emotion to speak.

Fergus touched a hand to Alex's shoulder and Ivan nodded abruptly, then walked quickly back to the truck and got in. Fergus lingered another few seconds.

“You've got the horse for a few more days?”

Alex nodded.

“We'll see you tomorrow, then.”

Then he got back into the truck, turned around, and pulled away. Alex waved them past. He could hear Tandava kicking in the trailer. When they were gone he noticed his father standing near his RV.

Alex was suddenly uncomfortably aware that Detroit was still sheathed in the purple sheet blanket with the glittery Graceful Hair Designs logo.

“Those two, they're your teachers?” said Mr. Ford.

Alex nodded.

“They got wives or anything?”

Alex didn't answer.

“Jesus, they're not like…
that
, are they?”

“I've got to put Detroit away,” said Alex.

“I'm trying to talk to you here.”

Alex started walking and his father followed.
When Alex reached the gate he led Detroit through and closed it between him and his father, locking himself inside the pasture with the horses.

“Well?” said Mr. Ford.

“Well, what?”

“Those guys, those fancy riding guys. They ever try to touch you?”

“What?”

“I saw them. One of them touched you.”

“You don't see anything,” said Alex. “Ms. Reed was right about that, anyway.”

His father took a step closer and Alex could see the muscles in his jaw working. His eyes were clear and Alex realized that his father was sober.

“If you think I'm just going to let you…”

“It's not up to you.”

“I don't want you going over there no more,” his father said.

Blood roared in Alex's ears. He was glad for the fence, however flimsy, that separated them.

“Don't worry,” he heard himself say. “I won't be riding over there any more because your
girlfriend
is taking back her horse.”

“She said you, I mean, she made it sound like you were…like
that
.” In the fading light Alex could see
the pain and confusion on his father's face. All at once his own anger evaporated.

“I am,” he said simply. “And it's not because of Fergus and Ivan. I just am.”

His father took a step back, shaking his head. “I thought she was just mad because I told her it was over. Between us.”

“Go back to your RV, Dad,” Alex said as gently as he could. Then he turned and walked to the barn, leaving his father standing, slump shouldered, outside the fence.