“Yeah!” said Bea, grabbing her tray so she could follow Austin up to the bussing counter. “See you there!”
Once outside the main lodge, he paused at the top of the steps, and took Bea’s hand, and looked at her.
“Yeah, Dad?” she asked, as though he’d asked her a question.
“You know the scene where Dorothy is in the house that has been set down in Oz?”
“Yeah.”
“And you know when she opens the door and suddenly the world turns to color?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I want you to think about it like that. Like you’re about to step through a doorway into another world. You’ve seen the cabin where we slept last night, and you’ve seen the dining hall—”
“And ate chocolate chip pancakes.”
“Right.” He nodded at her and clasped her hand tightly for a second. “And now, we’re going to walk around and look at the river, and the birds overhead, and the green grass that stretches to the horizon.”
“Like looking a painting, right, Dad?”
“Right, honeybee.” He had to swallow hard at her earnest expression, at the curve of her nose, the flush in her cheeks, and thought about how beautiful she was, how happy she was, just to be where they were, standing on the top step of the dining hall, about to step into the day.
“I want you to point out all the colors to me as we go,” he told her. “So I can paint them.”
“Okay, Dad.”
They stepped down the wooden steps and slowly walked along the road above where the valley spread out beyond the river, the blue sky meeting the far horizon. And as they headed even more slowly up the road, and through the trees, she pointed out the red of Indian paintbrush, the sage green of sage, the purple and red windflower, and long petals of yellow arnica nodding among the high grass.
The barn drew both of them like a magnet, him because Clay would probably be there, and her because horses would most definitely be there. As they walked into the cool, shadowy barn, Leland came out of his office to meet them.
“Excellent,” he said, smiling, pleased. “You’re just in time to meet some horses, and maybe help groom them for the lesson.”
“Oh,” said Austin, thinking this through. “I need to get her hair braided before then, so maybe we ought to head back for a bit before we get into all of that.”
“Oh, no,” said Bea, tugging on his hand. “Please, Dad? Can’t we stay. Can’t I pet the horses an’ help groom them? My hair will be okay.”
What was he doing? He was acting like Mona, taking all the fun out of everything before it’d even begun. So what if her hair flew around and got tangled? So what if he’d have to take extra time to help her comb it out before bedtime? So what?
“Got a horse comb here,” said Leland. “Brand new. And there’s string to make a braid, like we do with the horses.”
“Dad.” Bea practically breathed the word. “I can be like ahorse.”
Which was how, after all of everything, Bea was propped on two hay bales, holding her hat in her hand while Austin used a new horse comb to neaten her hair. Which was how Clay found them when he came into the barn, whistling.
“I can braid that,” said Clay. “We’ll do it just like we do for trail rides when it’s windy. A fishtail braid.”
After Clay braided her hair with deft strokes, and Bea was ready, she got to lead each horse out of its stall, with Clay helping her. When the horses were all assembled in the arena, the guests who were also signed up for the lesson came to help, and someone found Bea a box to stand on, while Clay showed her how to be gentle as she brushed.
Leland came out of the barn to help, holding a tail comb and walking behind horses like he’d not a care in the world that they’d kick him.
“I’ll make up the hours later,” said Austin to Leland as he passed by him.
“Never mind that,” said Leland. “It’s your day off, as far as I’m concerned.”
When the horses were groomed and saddled, Bea could almost not contain herself as she waited for her turn for help getting astride.
“This here’s Travelle,” said Brody, bringing a quiet-looking bay mare over to the mounting block. “She’s perfect for a nice little girl like you.”
