She yanks her suitcase in front of her, giving the back of it a light kick. “I argued it. The last place I want to be is here, so close to you. I don’t trust you won’t try to sneak in and suffocate me with a pillow.”
More like spray the trailer with gasoline and flick a match at it.
Tapping my thigh, I straighten my posture and glare harder. “My father isn’t coming to welcome you. I don’t know who told you that, but they lied. He’s at a horse show in Calgary today.”
“Of course he is,” she says, quiet enough for the words to be meant only for her. “I guess you get to take over, then.”
Before I can tell her to kick rocks, she’s dragging her suitcase toward me. Each step she takes threatens to make the ground shake. Maybe split entirely. I tighten my hold on my reins and clench my thighs in preparation.
“I’m not helping you with shit,” I warn her.
“Yeah, you are. As much as you supposedly hate me, I know your manners won’t stand to watch me haul this thing all the way across the ranch on my own.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me anymore.”
She doesn’t argue. Instead, she brings her suitcase to rest beneath my stirrup and abandons it there. Her attention is on Diesel now. A beat later, she’s smoothing a hand up his neck and moving to stand in his eyesight.
My horse shifts toward her, nosing her chest like he used to do when she’d come over and he knew she’d brought him a treat. I inhale through my nose and glance at the sky, praying to a God I don’t believe in for patience.
“If you want a horse, you’re not taking mine,” I grunt, forcing Diesel to step away from her. There’s no time to feel guilty about that. I nudge the top of her suitcase with my boot, threatening to send it tipping over. “And you can bring your suitcase to the stable. I’m not carrying it for you.”
Scowling, she drops her hand and wraps it around the handle of the suitcase. “I suppose I should be grateful that I get any help from you.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since getting back.”
Diesel doesn’t want to move, but when I urge him forward, he reluctantly does. I don’t let him relax until we’re in front of the stable. The sassy flick of his tail that comes once I’ve swung off him doesn’t help matters at all. My fingers are vibrating with frustration as I take his lead and knot it around the post.
I can hear the roll of Tilly’s suitcase behind me as I enter the stable and search for a horse she can use today. It’d be easier totake her to her trailer in one of the trucks, but the idea of being trapped inside a vehicle with her for ten minutes isn’t appealing in the slightest. Plus, something tells me this will be more entertaining.
The spotted mare three stalls from the door will be fine. I saddle broke her a few years ago, but she doesn’t get ridden much. It’s a fifty-fifty shot of whether she’ll be an easy ride or one to test how much patience Tilly’s grown to have in the time she’s been away.
I grab her saddle and haul it over before leaning back against the wall and waiting. My biceps fill with tension as I keep holding it, refusing to put it on the horse.
“You could have offered me a ride over here,” Tilly smarts, announcing her presence before boots on the concrete do.
I ignore the dig and drop the saddle into her arms. She catches it with a grunt, taking a laboured step forward. Using her stumble to my advantage, I reach through the empty space behind her to unhook the gate and pull it open.
“I assume you remember how to saddle a horse?”
She tongues her cheek before saying, sugar sweet, “I’ve been working for the last decade, so yes.”
“Great. Get to it, then. I’ll be outside.”
The huff that escapes her is music to my ears when I move past her. I don’t stop to check if she’s in the stall or if she’s retreated. The only thing I do is unhook Diesel and get back into the saddle. He snorts lightly, trying to turn to look for himself where she is.
“Knock it off, traitor,” I mutter under my breath.
His ears twitch in response, and I lead him to the road, far enough away from the stable that he doesn’t have another opportunity to betray me. He may not be a person, yet that never mattered. This horse is one of the only living things that I didn’t lose when I went to prison. It didn’t matter how long I was goneor what I’d done to get myself locked up. He was here waiting for me the day I was let out on parole, still my best friend.
Tilly’s brother was here too, but I’ve struggled to be the same person I was before I went away. He’s felt that, and things have been jilted. It rubs me wrong that he got his sister a job here, especially without giving me a heads-up.
I’ve accepted my new reality, though. As much as I hate it, this is my life, and that’s it. Having Tilly here is a change I’m not prepared for. But . . . maybe I can get some use out of it. Even if only to have a little fun with her.
Revenge could taste smooth if I gave it a chance.
10
SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
