Sunset Ranch (13 page)

He dabbled his fingers in the water some more, then looked up in my direction, though I could tell he wasn't really looking at me. “Then he went off on this trip to the Tetons. He'd gotten all into rock climbing since getting to college. He had all the ropes, the shoes, and everything. It was cool, he—” His voice thickened and caught. He fought against himself, then went on. “He was going to take me to Kentucky when he got back. We were going to go together.” A tear slid down his cheek. “Then the guy he was going to the Tetons with canceled at the last minute, and my dad convinced him to do what was right and not take any of his ropes if he was going by himself. He wouldn't have anyone to belay; it wouldn't be
safe
.” He swallowed hard. I saw the cords standing out on the side of his neck. “He didn't—he said he wouldn't do any technical climbing, just scrambling. But he was an idiot, he screwed it up and went off the path, behind the signs that said it was unsafe, too steep. He fell. He fell three hundred feet. And it was two days before a ranger found him.”

He went silent, staring straight ahead. I stayed quiet by his side. Finally I tentatively touched his back. “Zach, that's so awful.” I wanted to cry myself, his story was so sad.

“My mom fell to the ground when she heard. She just fell over and curled up. I slept in his bed that night. I couldn't think of any other way to be close to him.”

He fell silent, but I sensed there was something he was ­holding back.

I leaned forward and placed my hand on his knee. “What?”

“It's just that this photo—I had this picture of Dan and me. It's from a few weeks before he died. When I knew I was going to come out here for the summer, and the springs were so close, I brought it with me. I wanted to leave it out here, to remember him. But I lost it. I don't know where. Probably slipped out of my pocket when I was working.”

“Zach—” Then I stopped. Something held me back. I didn't tell him I'd found it on the feed room floor. It felt too intimate, somehow—like I'd peeped into a curtained window. “Are you sad you came back here?” I asked instead.

He considered and shook his head.

“No, I'm happy, actually. I like thinking of all of us here. I'm glad it's still here—Dan would've liked that.”

“And that night, in the common room?”

“Oh. That.” He cleared his throat and traced a circle on the log. “We went out to get his truck, all the way out to the Tetons, to get it from the trailhead where he'd left it.” He wiped the ­corner of his mouth with a thumb. “That song was on the CD player when we turned the car on. He'd been listening to a John Denver mix I'd made for him before he left.”

My own throat swelled and ached, and I struggled not to cry. Zach saw my face, though, and reached out and took my hand. We sat together on the log for a long time, not speaking, our fingers clasped together.

Then Zach looked around himself like he was coming out of a dream, and some of the hot mischievousness came back into his eyes. “Anyway, let's go in.” He stood up and pulled off his shirt, then dipped a foot in the water. The muscles in his smooth back rippled under his skin. He climbed down over the rocks and yelled. “Owee, that's hot!” The steam was rising up all around him. At least I'd worn a sports bra under my tank top today, and some pretty tight running shorts. I stripped off my shirt, sort of hoping Zach would be looking and sort of hoping he wouldn't.

And Zach didn't look away or anything modest and helpful, like Stephen would have. He grinned, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, his ice-blue eyes twinkling until my face was ­flaming.

“Well, don't you want to test the water?” I finally said, mostly because I felt like I was going to burst into flames if I stood there one more minute with his smoldering gaze looking me up and down. I turned my back on him and, resting my hands on the slippery gray rocks, lowered myself partly into the water.

I gasped involuntarily. “It's really hot!” It was a surreal sensation, the hot water surrounding me as I gazed out at the ferns and slick, moss-covered rocks, and beyond them the pine trees dripping long green needles, and beyond them the blue mountains, looking like a picture you might find hanging over your bed in a cheap hotel—too clichéd to be real. Except they were.

A strong scent rose up in the steam. “Am I smelling rotten eggs?” I looked over at Zach, who had gotten into the pool and was standing waist-deep beside me.

He grinned and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, my favorite!”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, seriously?”

“It's the sulfur from the spring—that's what makes it smell that way. It's supposed to be good for you.”

I inhaled again. It didn't seem so bad now, mixed with the fresh, earthy scents of the forest around us.

Gingerly, I felt my way through the murky water. The bottom was small rocks and sandy mud. I wondered if there were fish or other animals that I might step on. Something brushed my leg, and I shrieked and grabbed at Zach's arm before I realized it was the edge of Zach's shorts.

The water was hotter near the bottom, where it burbled out from the depths of the earth, and cooler on the top. It was a natural spring that existed to the side of the river, but clearly, over the years people had created the pool by stacking up large and small stones to capture the hot water and protect it from the snow-cold river. I felt my way across the bottom, trying not to stumble, and perched on a big rock under the water.

“Zach, this is seriously incredible.” I felt like I was calming down after our crazy ride through the forest. I leaned back on the rocks and spread my arms out, starting up at the insanely blue sky. It seemed very weird to be looking up at trees and feeling rocks under my arms, smelling that dank sulfur smell, instead of the scent of chlorine and feeling concrete around me like when I was in a swimming pool. “This is so warm!”

He grinned and splashed me and I shrieked and splashed him back, the hot water making a delicious contrast with the droplets of ice cold spraying from the river immediately beside us. “Here, come on!” Zach scrambled over the rocks separating the spring pool from the river. “Yeoow!” he yelled as he plunged into the icy-cold water.

“Are you crazy?” I shouted at him, huddling lower in the hot spring pool. “I always knew you were nuts!”

He swam up to the pool, smiling diabolically. “And you're going in with me!” He reached over the rocks and grabbed my upper arm.

“No!” I shrieked, trying to swim away. But he was too strong and hauled me over the slippery rocks.

I screamed as I plunged into the rushing river, clutching Zach around the neck. He wrapped his arms around me, laughing, and pressed me close against him under the water.

For an instant our bare legs swam deliciously together, and I could feel his chest and belly against mine. Then I pulled away, overwhelmed suddenly by the feeling of his bare skin, and swam a few feet off to hide my confusion and my red cheeks. He must have felt the same way, because he didn't say anything, but just swam in a circle.

“Look up there.” He pointed at the mountains on the horizon. Fluffy white clouds sat on the mountaintops like heaped-up pillows. They looked innocuous enough.

“Yeah? They're called clouds—have you ever seen them before?” I teased.

Thunder cracked overhead, startling me, and I looked up, my feet fumbling for purchase on the slippery rocks of the river bottom. Dark-gray clouds had rolled in fast and were churning in the sky.

Zach swam over. “Come on, we've got to get under something quick—these mountain storms can be wicked in the summer, especially at this altitude.” His eyes were sparkling, though, his wet hair pasted to his forehead in black spikes. I knew he was loving the danger, in spite of his cautious words.

Thunder boomed again and lightning flashed. The sound echoed off the mountains. The wind picked up. “Come on!” Zach started swimming toward the bank, shoving me in front of him. We scrambled up the rocks, out of the water, just as the rain started. The drops pelted us with ferocious intensity.

“Ow!” I cried as the little drops hit my bare back. They felt as hard as BBs. The aspen leaves rustled around us as the drops fell with the patter of a million tiny feet. Thunder cracked, and then something exploded next to us and a white flash blinded me. The air was full of electric prickles. I screamed and clutched Zach, burying my head in his chest. “What was that?” I gasped.

“Lightning struck that tree!” he shouted over the thunder. He pointed to the smoldering remains of a giant pine tree, now split almost in half, burned black and smoking. We ran along the bank, looking for somewhere, anywhere to shelter. Then the rain changed—hard rocks were hitting my back and shoulders. “Hail, Zach!” I yelled. The hailstones were getting larger and larger. They were the size of gumballs now. “Ow! Ow!”

We scrambled back down the bank, closer to the river again, the hailstones leaving red welts on our skin everywhere they hit. “Zach!” I was panicky now, trying to cover my head with my hands. “Zach!”

“Here! Get under here!” He pulled me roughly under a shelf of projecting rock sticking out from the bank. Crouching down, we could both just fit underneath, with the river rushing just a few feet below.

Somewhat sheltered, I huddled close to Zach, trying to catch my breath. “Oh my God!” I squeaked.

He was breathing hard too, but his blue eyes had lost none of their merriment. “Don't worry, we're not going to die,” he teased, his breath warm on my cheek.

“I know that!” I replied, automatically indignant. I realized that our faces were just inches apart. My breath suddenly stopped and I looked into his eyes. He held my gaze and then his eyes dropped to my lips. My heart gave a great thud. “Zach . . . ,” I whispered.

He touched my wet hair where it lay over my shoulder. “What?”

“I . . .” But I didn't know what I was going to say. I only knew how my body felt at this moment—like I wanted nothing more in the world but to press my lips against his.

He leaned in a little, and just then, dirt and rocks slid out from beneath his feet and he tumbled down the bank, splashing into the river.

“Zach!” I screamed in momentary panic, but the water was only a few feet deep, I saw, and he was already scrambling to his feet.

The rain was letting up too, and the hail slowed and then stopped, as quickly as it had begun. I eased out from under the rock as Zach climbed back up the bank.

“
That
was quick.” I gave a little laugh and tried to brush some of the mud and leaves off my arms and legs, suddenly self-­conscious.

“Yeah. That was intense.” Zach was giving a scratch on his arm a long inspection. I wondered if he felt a little embarrassed, the way he'd opened up to me.

“I've been thinking about a problem,” I said slowly.

“Really?”

“You seem surprised.” I sat down on one of the big rocks.

“It's just that you seem like the type never to have problems.”

“That's cute, but I do have a problem.” I traced a pine needle on the rock so I wouldn't have to look at him.

“What is it?”

“Well . . .” I swallowed. “There's these two guys. And I thought I liked one. But now . . . I'm not so sure.”

Zach's brow was knitted quizzically. “Wait a minute. . . .”

I held up my hand. “Hang on. I'm not done. The one guy seemed perfect at first. And he still kind of is. It's just there's this other guy—kind of annoying. Kind of cocky. But I can't stay away from him. . . .” I finally raised my eyes to his.

He was grinning. “The second guy sounds like kind of a jerk. Not the type for a nice girl like you.”

“I know! I should probably run away, right?” Now my smile matched his. My cheeks ached with it, but I didn't care.

Zach reached out and touched a wet strand of my hair where it lay over my shoulder. “Only you know what's best for you. You have to do what you feel like you have to do.” He clasped my hand in his, intertwining our fingers.

“I know what's best,” I said softly. “It's right here in front of me.”

Chapter
Fourteen

Muddy and tired, we pulled
up to the main house with the sun low in the sky, shooting long golden rays across the pastures. I felt drained but in a good way. The day seemed like it had been the longest day—the longest two days—ever. Zach took my hand briefly as we got down from the truck and I let him. My mind was all mixed up. I didn't know what was happening with him, with Stephen, but I did know that I felt good—really good. I smiled at him. “I just want to say good night to Magic before dinner,” I said.

“I'll come with you.” We hurried toward the stable and ran down the aisle. I stopped short. Magic's stall door was open, sawdust trailing from the entrance. Magic was gone.

“What? Where is he?” I looked around wildly.

“Don't worry,” Zach reassured me. “They probably just turned him out early.” The other horses were still in their stalls.

“Oh, right.” I felt silly for reacting so strongly. We walked out toward the pasture, and then I froze just outside the opposite stable door. A truck was pulled up there, with a trailer attached. Magic was in the trailer, the door shut and locked. “What's going on?” I gasped.

I heard voices from around the side of the truck and stepped around. Stephen was standing there, talking on a two-way radio. “What's going on?” I asked him, trying to stay calm. “Is he hurt?” Maybe he was just taking Magic to the vet.

Stephen lowered the radio. “He's leaving.” He wouldn't look at either of us.

“What do you mean, leaving?” Zach asked. I could tell he was trying to keep a hold of his temper, but I knew him well enough now to know it wouldn't last long.

“I mean Rick wants him to go back. We're driving him to the market now—there's a big auction tomorrow.” He spoke to the truck door.

“What!” My heart was hammering. “What are you talking about? You're sending him away? Our Magic?”

“He's not safe! He screwed up and hurt a guest!” Stephen's voice rose.

My own temper tore loose. “He screwed up because you pushed him!” I screamed back, almost in his face. “You knew, you knew he was afraid of water and you made him go on the trip and across that river because all the horses had to be ready!”

“Rick's pissed, okay?” Stephen said. “I told him I'd take care of the situation, and this is how it's happening.”

“So you're hiding the evidence, is that right?” Zach broke in. His voice was full of barely restrained fury.

“That's not how it is!” Stephen yelled. His voice broke. Shockingly, I heard tears behind the anger. “Look, this horse screwed up all my chances, do you get it? This was supposed to be my ­summer—it
would've
been my summer, if it weren't for him!”

We were quiet, shocked into silence by his painfully screwed-up face. Behind him, Magic looked placidly over the edge of the half door of the trailer. He didn't know he was going to be sold.

I couldn't bear the trusting look on his calm face any longer. I walked up the still-lowered trailer ramp and slid back the metal latch.

“What are you doing?” Stephen said.

Calmly, I fastened the lead rope to the horse's halter and pushed open the door. “I'm putting him back in his stall,” I said, shocked at my own boldness. “He's not going anywhere tonight. If Rick has a problem with that, I'll tell him it was my decision.”

They were silent behind me as I led the horse down the ramp.

***

But later that evening my resolve left me. Zach found me seated at the table in the empty common room, my head in my hands. The sobs poured out of me. I felt a hand on my back and looked up briefly. Zach was standing beside me. After a minute he sat down in the seat next to me and rubbed my shoulders. My sobs emptied themselves out.

I sat up and wiped my nose on my sleeve, not caring how gross it was. “He tried,” I said thickly. “He worked so hard.
We
worked so hard. Just to have that jerked away because of one stupid mistake? It's unbearable how unfair it is.” I dropped my head in my hands and felt the hot tears drop from my eyes. “And you know the worst part?”

Zach held out a tissue and I took it. “The worst part,” I choked out, “is how scared he's going to be. He's going to think I just left him—right after he finally learned to trust me.” The sobs overwhelmed me again as I thought of the uncomprehending animal's fear and confusion. I pictured him standing on the platform at the auction market, a chalked number on his side, trembling at the strange noises and rough hands grabbing him, examining his teeth.

Zach rested his hand on my back and said nothing. He didn't have to. I knew he felt as awful as I did.

Then he stood up. I looked up at him through tear-bleared eyes. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Come on.” He turned around. “We're not giving up.”

I followed him automatically, though I still didn't know what he was talking about. “Giving up what?”

“Giving up on that horse,” he said, and strode determinedly from the room.

I followed him out into the deep mountain night. The air was cool and dry, scented with pine, and the familiar ranch looked eerie under the strong moonlight pouring down. “Zach, what are you doing?”

He didn't answer, just grabbed my hand firmly in his and walked toward the stable.

Inside, the horses were quiet, sleeping, their heads turned toward the backs of their stalls. Here and there I heard the shifting of a body or the clink of a water bucket against the wall. Zach led me toward Magic's stall in the middle. “Hey boy,” he whispered. “Wake up!”

Magic turned from the back of the stall to face us. I imagined that his large eyes were questioning. Zach slid back the bolt and held out a lead rope, which I clipped onto the halter. I had an idea now of where we were headed, and my excitement rose as Magic stepped willingly from the stall.

Together we stole across the moonlit field like two thieves in the night, our precious booty walking behind us, his hooves thunking the ground rhythmically, comfortingly. On and on we walked, one on either side of the horse's head, until we came to the stream where Stephen had forced Magic across that day.

We stopped him a short distance from the water, and there I patted him and Zach talked to him. We spent a long time fussing over him, and then I took his big head in both of my hands and looked him deep in the eyes. “Magic,” I said seriously. He looked back at me as if he could understand me perfectly. “We know you can do this. You've been doing great.” I didn't want to remind him of the Mrs. Coleman incident. “You've been doing great,” I repeated. “Now we're just going to practice a little more.” I didn't want to tell him this was his last chance. No sense in laying on the pressure if it wasn't necessary.

Zach took a small can out of his pocket and shook it. Magic and I looked around. Sweet feed, the sticky, molasses-coated grain no horse could resist. Magic's ears pricked. I dipped my hand into the can and let him lick up a small mouthful from my hand.

Then, talking to him soothingly all the while, I led him across the tussocky grass a little closer to the stream, which was trickling blackly among the grasses. He came willingly, though I sensed the tension increasing in his body. “Here, boy,” I said cheerfully, making sure my body never betrayed the gravity of the situation. Quietly, Zach tipped a handful of the grain from the can, then nodded at me and splashed across the small creek to the other side.

I led Magic closer to the stream and, when I sensed his hesitation, palmed a few grains of sweet feed between his lips. At the banks of the stream he hesitated. Immediately, Zach rattled the can enticingly. The horse's ears pricked up, and before he had a chance to think, I quickened my step. “Come on, boy!” I cried, and before he realized what was happening, he had splashed across the stream, led by my rope. The second he reached the other side, Zach held out a huge handful of grain, which he eagerly slurped up.

Zach and I looked at each other in delight and triumph. “He did it!” I cried joyfully.

“Thanks to you,” Zach said. I flung my arms around his neck without thinking. Our faces were very close, and for a long moment we looked at each other. Then slowly, without hurrying, he placed his hands on either side of my face and drew me to him. He tilted his head and pressed his lips softly, slowly to mine. The kiss seemed to go on forever, though I know it was only a few seconds. But in that instant, the whole world narrowed down to the sensation of his hot mouth on mine, pressing firmly and insistently, the feel of his hands buried in my hair, caressing my neck, just as I'd always dreamed.

He raised his head and we looked at each other. “Zach,” I breathed. He held his finger to my lips.

“Don't say anything.”

Magic crossed the stream six more times that night.

When we finally walked back to the stable, Magic clopping along placidly behind us, snorting his warm breath, I felt Zach's hand reach out and entwine with mine. I didn't know what to think, but then again, nothing this summer had turned out like I'd expected. All I knew was what was happening now—Zach had kissed me and Magic had crossed the water. I had no expectations anymore, because I could no longer predict what would happen.