“You have to move slowly around horses,” said Clay, leaning down as Bea began to dance, kicking up dust. “Horses like calm, slow people. See? Look at her eyes. She’s still waking up a bit.”
“Okay,” said Bea with a solemn nod.
Austin stood outside the arena, leaning against the wooden fence as he watched Clay assist Bea into the saddle. Clay was saying something to her, her nodding in response as he adjusted her stirrups and gave her one-on-one instructions how to hold the reins in one hand. The look on her face was something he folded into his heart to keep for later, when he couldn’t see her every day. When he had to beg Mona for a chance to talk with her on the phone.
The only thing that gave him comfort, then, was the gentle way Clay talked to her. The way, even attending to all the guests, he kept coming back to Bea as the horses went around the arena at a quiet walk.
Then, when Brody called for everybody to trot, Clay was at her side, not touching the reins, but just being there so Bea could be brave, straighten her back and go with the trot.
She bounced a bit, but she was concentrating on her form, face flushed, eyes wide, and pleasure in her smile when she spotted Austin and waved at him. And in that moment, one hand on the reins, one hand in the air, not hanging on to the saddle horn like many of the other guests were, he was so proud of her, he could have exploded into a million pieces and not minded one bit.
24
Clay
The riding lesson went well, and Clay was pleased at how much Bea had enjoyed herself. Seemed natural and not afraid. He knew Austin was watching from the sidelines, leaning against the fence, doing his best not to shout out instructions like some kind of soccer mom. He let Clay do his job, let Bea find her own way, but stayed nearby in case she needed him.
After the lesson, as Clay hurried to help guests dismount, then brought out brushes and chamois cloths and sweat combs, taking away saddles to the barn to be wiped down. He lost track of Austin, but then saw him and Bea headed away, hand in hand, Bea looking up at her dad as she chattered and half-skipped in her new boots.
Maybe they were going to the fire pit and then through the long grasses down the hill to the river. Or maybe they were headed to the shade of the trees on their way to the river rock bridge. Wherever it was they were going, Clay longed to go with them.
The feelings were so new, that kind of longing, like a lost thing coming home, felt so uncertain he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He was the guy who could have sex with pretty much anyone he wanted to, just by crooking his finger at a handsome stranger and flashing his dimples. His ass had many admirers, as did his thighs, his smile.
Having sex in the alley behind the Rusty Nail used to be the culmination of his hard-working week. Only now, looking ahead to the weekend, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to be part of the father-daughter walk. Wanted to be part of simple events, like braiding hair, and horse lessons with Austin watching. Wanted to think a different way as to what was important and what was not.
Was he ready for that? If he and Austin truly started dating, he’d be dating a guy with a kid, which sounded so homey and sweet but also serious and maybe something he wasn’t ready for.
He didn’t know, so he threw himself into work, always checking his phone for text messages from Austin, which came, but which only told him what Austin and Bea were doing, rather than asking Clay to join them. Which was fine, really, it was. He needed to get his head on straight, and quit pining for a guy who had his daughter with him for only a short time.
Plus he had a job to do, a job that he loved and wanted to keep, so he volunteered for extra barn duty. Went with Jamie to pick up trash along the riverside. Helped Quint when the engine of his old blue and white truck started pinging, and they adjusted the fan belt and added some good oil, and didn’t snicker when Quint patted his truck’s hood and told Blue Jean that she was a good girl.
All of this was his everyday world, what he loved. And now there was Austin and Bea and maybe a new kind of world he could share with someone.
At dinner, he scrambled to clean up from where a cow had slobbered all over him as he untangled her hoof from a bit of barbed wire. He had helped Quint clean the wound, and watched the cow walk off like nothing had happened, and was late to clean up, late to dinner.
When he got to the dining hall, Bea and Austin were once again surrounded by people, the older couple, the three fun-loving middle-aged ladies.
Clay had to go sit with a couple with two teenagers who looked bored enough, like they wished they were somewhere else, but who, in the end, were well behaved enough to at least pretend to have a good time. Some people, well, the ranch wasn’t for them, and that was okay by Clay because for some people, the ranch was everything.
The evening was clear and the air was dry, and Clay was happy to help set up the fire pit for Bill’s story time. He wished he could plop down on a hay bale next to Austin and Bea and just listen to Bill draw out the ghost stories and hustle through the funny ones, but he was on tap to bring out supplies for making s’mores, and he was on tap for cleaning up after.
When he was done with that task, he discovered Austin and Bea had gone back to the cabin. And then realized it was simply too late to go knocking on that door to ask if Austin would like to stand beneath the light of the quarter moon and hold hands and kiss while night owls hooted and scolded and faraway coyotes sang to each other.
The next few days went like that, with Austin busy and occupied with Bea and his own job, leaving Clay in a state that felt like dust was settling on him, a drought with no rain in sight.
“Everything okay?” asked Leland on Thursday afternoon when the two of them were in Leland’s office with Brody, going over the rotation for horses so the vet could come out and give them each a quick checkup.
“Everything’s fine,” said Clay, not waiting for a private moment with Leland, the way he would have done, had he wanted to share.
Normally he would have drawn Leland aside and asked him for advice, but that would be tantamount to asking Leland who Clay should become. Leland would, no doubt, tell Clay to be himself, and then ask why it was an issue. Then Clay would have to spill the beans and explain that he was steadily and inexorably falling in love with a tall, red-headed monk wannabe accountant with long muscles over pale skin Clay could not stop thinking about.
“You got your head on backwards,” said Brody on Friday afternoon, when Clay moved too quickly with a saddle in his arms, tripped over the girth, and landed flat on his ass, looking up at Big Red’s belly. “What’s wrong with you lately?”
Standing up, pulling the saddle from the dirt, brushing it off, putting it to rights, Clay didn’t want to say.
Brody was who Brody was. He didn’t need anyone or anything and wouldn’t understand how Clay could be so affected by the presence of a nerdy accountant. How a recently divorced straight guy, how that simple thing could make him feel like he needed to turn his life around. Needed to change who he was. He was so out of his depth he was drowning.
“It’s the accountant, isn’t it.” It was not a question, and Clay pushed past Brody as he carried the saddle to the tack room. “I seen you looking.”
