The girl before me circles her second barrel. Her black Quarter horse cuts the corner a hair too tight, and I hold my breath as the barrel spins on its rim. I’ve been in her shoes, and it feels like the world sits in a stand still. As she races towards her last barrel, my eyes don’t leave the black Cal Ranch logo as it wobbles then drops to the ground. The crowd lets out a collective sigh as the announcer makes the call that her score will be docked five seconds. It may not feel like much, but in a racewhere the winners are separated by a thousandth of a second, it’s everything. Racing is a tough sport—it’s easy to get caught up in cheering for someone else’s downfall. But I’ve been there, it’s not easy climbing up the ranks. I make a mental note to find her after and tell her she’s got it next time. As the rider comes down the straight, I can see the tears welling in her eyes. But I push Queen into the open space and take deep breaths.This is it. My time.Ourtime.
“And now, one of the best up and coming riders this sport has seen in a long time.” The announcer's voice blasts through my thoughts and my heart slows into a steady pace, ready for what’s to come. “Hannah Harlow…” The booming voice over the speakers is drowned out by someone shouting my name from behind me. “Hannah! Wait!" Looking over my shoulder, I find one of the rodeo coordinators running towards me, his heavy boots sinking into the dirt as it sprays up behind him. “Hannah, wait! It’s your folks…”
Turning Queen towards him, I yell over the noise between us, “Where are they sitting?” I can’t go to them now, but I can find them after. When he gets closer, I see fear and pain in his eyes. He gives me a sad shake of his head, trying to wave me over to him.
“Hannah, I’m so sorry.” The ground falls out around me. Something is horribly wrong, I feel it in my soul. Oblivious to the blow I’ve just been given, Queen hears our names, and out of habit, turns to take off. Before I can stop her, she is barreling down the corridor and we enter the arena. Blinding lights and deafening cheers are a shock to my system. I’m numb, my hands fumbling with the reins as the first barrel approaches at a breakneck speed. She leans perfectly into the turn, but my body is frozen. My mind is blank.They were just here. My vision is closing in around me, unable to focus on the blur of the barrel before me.
Weightless. I’m completely weightless. The ground moves below me, and the hot summer breeze blows strands of hair from my braid. I don’t realize that I’ve been thrown off Queen until the dirt floor meets my face.Hard. The sound of my head bouncing off the ground will haunt me for the rest of my life. Soft, brown dirt coats my face, dust pushing up my nose. But all of it is a dull ache compared to the pain raging in my heart. The crowd gasps and then goes eerily silent as I lay motionless on the ground. All I can see is the black that seeps in from the edges of my vision, the overhead lights going fuzzy all around me. My parents’ picture from minutes ago fills my mind. The sting of tears pricks at my eyes and I let them fall. I don’t need anyone to tell me, I can feel it in my bones.
They’re gone.
“Where doyou want me to put her?” A hard wall of warmth hugs me to their chest, his gruff voice vibrating against my cheek as my eyes flutter open and closed as I come back to consciousness. I want to curl up in the way he smells, like he’s been riding horses all day in a freshly cut pasture. My head hurts too much to try and open my eyes fully, so I fall back into the haze and let the mountain of a man carry me off to wherever he sees fit. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that I shouldn’t be noticing all of these details about whoever has me crushed in their massive arms. I’ve had a handful of concussions before and remember the haze of confusion that lingers after each one. But this time is different. Amidst the chaos that is racing through my mind, I find comfort in him. Through the heaviness in my head, I feel every inch of contact through myclothes. Despite what my parents think, I’ve had my fair share of barn loft lays, but the way this man holds me is all man, allcowboy. The way his hands slide out from under me when he lays me down on something soft and has my mind spinning with wicked thoughts.
“There ya go, darlin’.” His accent is thick and flows around me like honey melting on top of Sunday morning biscuits. I can’t fight the goosebumps that pop up where his skin touches mine. Through the pounding headache, I pry my eyes open and squint against the bright lights of an ambulance. A black Resistol hat blocks the blinding lights, and grey-blue eyes meet mine. Just before they close the doors, lips brush gently across my temple. My eyes drift shut as warmth floods through my veins, wrapping around the pain and twisting it into a longing for him to hold me again. A familiar scent of wide open spaces and sunny days caresses me in the heat from his chest, a smell that I want to bathe in and forget everything else around me. Cracking my eyes open once again, I catch a glimpse of him tugging his hat off his head, running a large hand through unruly, dark hair then smacking the dust off on his black chaps. From here, he’s all dark and storm clouds, but I still smell him around me, still feel his fingers wipe the dirt off my cheek and tuck my hair behind my ears as he carried me out. Pain slams back into me with enough force to pull me under, and I’m left dreaming of my cowboy as the paramedics do their best to ease my sobs as I drift in and out of consciousness.
hannah
“Hannah, honey. Are you listening?”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, eyes blazing in rage as I focus my gaze on my aunt who is sitting across the dining room table from me. There is no anger in her eyes, though. Only sorrow. She nods her head, realizing that she just called me something that was one of the last things I heard from my parents before they were t-boned by a drunk driver on their way back to the arena.
“Hannah. I am very sorry for your loss.”The man who was introduced as my parents’ lawyer crosses his hands on the top of my dining room table. A table that I’ve sat at my entire life, eating and laughing with my parents. Just the sight of it, the feeling of being in this house, haunts me. I wipe the fresh tears from my face and look at him as he speaks. “Your parents left everything to you. This house, the land, it’s yours to do what you’d like with. Their life insurance will pay off any debts or loans so you won’t have to worry about making monthly payments. And?—”
“Sell it,” I cut him off, firmly meeting his gaze. A mask of determination and finality slips into place. “The day after thefuneral, list it. House and land.” I stand and leave the room, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. I overhear my aunt telling the lawyer to wait a moment, then the sound of her footsteps follow me out the back door. I stare out at the five acres of green that I’ve called home for my entire life. The clouds run across the sky until they slam up against the mountain peaks, the wind making the tall, overgrown grass sway like waves in the ocean.Am I ready to give this all up?Thoughts plague me, but despite the war in my head, I know that this will never feel like home again. Not without them. When my aunt’s arm wraps around my shoulder, twisting my body into hers, I shake with emotion. Anger that this is the way my life has turned out. Pain that I’ve lost my parents before I’ve even turnedtwenty. Denial that I’ll live the rest of my life without them.
“It’s ok, let it out.” And despite my best efforts, I do. I let my tears fall until I feel weak, exhaustion tugging at me to lay down. “You don’t have to make any decisions yet,” she whispers against my hair, smoothing it down like my mama used to do.
Looking up at her face, so similar to my dad’s, I nod my head. “I’ve made my decision.” My voice sounds stronger than I feel. I give her a tight nod and head back inside, sitting across from the man who has patiently been waiting. Then I sign the papers and pretend to have it all together on the outside, while internally I can feel my heart putting a wall around itself brick by brick.
The night before the funeral, I toss and turn. When I can’t take it anymore, I get out of bed and pad down the hallway, stopping briefly in front of my parents’ slightly open door. I haven’t been able to go in, but the sight of the boxes that my aunt has packed up makes my chest clench. I dodge the creaky floorboards outside the guest room where my aunt and uncle sleep. Her kids are grown and live in dorms on their college campuses; she told me she would stay as long as I needed her to. If there is any time better than the present to get readyto be on my own, I can’t think of it. I sink into one of the worn leather stools at the kitchen island and power up my laptop. The numbers that have popped up in my bank account are astounding. I’m not sure if it’s sleep deprivation or self-preservation, but by the time my eyelids are drooping and my head bobs up and down from exhaustion, I close my laptop and slink back towards my room.
Morning comes too quickly, the birds outside far too happy for the occasion. Turning towards the mirror, I clasp my mama’s necklace around my neck, a simple gold chain connected on each side of a diamond studded horseshoe. I hold it in my palm for a few moments, pushing down the emotion that threatens to break free. Voices grow louder from the kitchen as I make my way down the hall, stopping abruptly when my uncle sees me walk through the doorway. My aunt's eyes swing to me, fire blazing behind her red, swollen eyes. She’s held it together in front of me, but I’ve heard her cries from her room each time she closes the door.
“What’s this?!” she hiccups at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. I look to where she is pointing. My laptop sits on the counter with emails and websites open on the screen. I lean against the wall, running a finger under my chin.
“I can’t stay here, Shan.”
“So what, you're going to live your life in a trailer?” She clicks on a tab at the top of the screen, a website for Trek Right Trailers popping up. I simply nod my head as her hands fly to her hair and she stares at the floor. Out of all the floor plans, model 7840 caught my eye. Two horse stalls in the back, a small tack room off to the side. Inside the sleeping quarters is a kitchenette, bathroom, couch and queen bed. Everything I need to run away from all of this.
“And this?” She swings back to the laptop, stabbing at the screen with enough force I’m worried she’ll crack the screen. Anemail confirmation for a truck that hasn’t even hit the lot yet pops up. She does a double take at the price before cursing under her breath.
I shrug mindlessly. “I need something to pull the trailer with.” My aunt's jaw drops, eyes swinging to my uncle who has his head in his hands. When he looks up, though, it isn’t disappointment on his face. It’s pride. He stands, making his way to my aunt and pulling her into his arms. Turning to look at me, he says, “Shan, look at her.” Her puffy eyes and tear stained face turn to me. “Doesn’t she look just like him?” Nodding her head up and down, fresh tears breaking free. “It’s like telling the wind to stop blowing.” She laughs when she untangles herself from her husband and then quickly crosses the room, pulling me into her. “I used to say that about your dad, Hannah.” I sink into her, not that I need anyone’s permission to make my choices, but living with her mad at me would be a burden that I don’t need sitting on my shoulders.
“I’ll be ok,” I whisper, rubbing her back. When she finally pulls away, she holds me at arm’s length, then nods her head before walking outside to get in the cars that will take us to the church. My uncle gives me a wink, then follows her out. I take a look around my house that in a few hours will be filled with people, the sagging couch where we’d watch our shows together, the dining room table that we ate dinner and Dad taught me how to play cards. So many memories that I don’t want to forget, but could never create new ones. The choice is made: I’m selling and moving on.
It’s one of those perfect summer storm days in the West. A rumble in the distance draws my attention from the two caskets in front of me. One covered in deep red roses.Dad.The other has bright yellow lilies draped over the dark wood.Mama. Dark clouds gather across the valley and I feel the breeze pick up. I didn’t bother tying my hair back today, and I lean into thecaress of it against my skin. I stay until everyone has filtered out, hushed condolences and pats on the back as people pass by on their way to their cars. I watch as the men in black suits lower my parents into the ground, not shedding one tear as I listen to the sound of dirt being tossed into the hole as it showers over their caskets. It’s not until the first drop of rain falls and a crash of thunder rings that I’m shaken from my thoughts. I lean down against the fresh dirt, laying a palm on each of my parents. “I got this,” I whisper the words from my mom’s last text before standing, wiping the dirt off on my dress and walking through the light rain fall to my dad’s truck.One last ride,I think to myself.
The rain mists across the mountains that separate us from busy Park City. I’ve always loved summer storms, Mama did, too, so it felt like she was riding shotgun with me. The moment I parked my dad’s truck back in the driveway of my childhood home, I storm through the house, passing all our family and friends dressed in black, quiet sobs muffled around me as I pushed out the backdoor and raced across the muddy drive to the barn. My black dress blows behind me like the storm cloud I’ve turned into after that night. Queen raises her head the moment I throw open the sliding doors, tossing her mane like she can’t wait to escape this hell with me, either.
I don’t even bother throwing the saddle on her, just tossing a rope around her muzzle and jumping up. We take off across the five acres of freedom that will forever hold a special place in my heart. Rain soaks us and chills our skin to the bone, but we don’t stop until the sun peeks out from behind the clouds. A beam of sunlight resting on top of the green peaks in the distance. Only then do I drop down on Queen's back and let my tears mix with her already rain-drenched coat. I make a promise to myself, here at my lowest and most broken point, that it will be the last time I cry. The last time I let anyone get close to me, so that I neverhave to feel this heartbreak again. By the time I walk Queen back to her stall, the once bright yellow stitched sunflowers on my Roman bootsare brown with caked mud.Good. Nothing pretty ever lasts.
hannah
TWO YEARS LATER
“Areyou sure you’re ready for this?” Tearing my eyes off the tunnel that leads out to the rodeo grounds, I look over at my coach, Matty. His weathered hands rest on the horn of his saddle. His kind, brown eyes meet mine, and I give him a soft smile. Pulling the brim of my hat down over my eyes, I look back towards the noise waiting for me at the other end of the tunnel. Notthehat. No, that hat was burned the second it was put in my hands.
It’s been two years since I’ve raced, but the moment the house was packed up and anything that I didn’t want to keep was sold, I loaded everything else into the new truck and stuffed it into a storage unit. Then I took off, Queen loaded into her new trailer, and drove across the country. I stopped at rodeos along the way, trying to ease myself into it little by little. I’d sit in the crowded bleachers and watch the riders while pushing away thoughts of my parents. I watched girls I’d raced with for years win first place, happy that they had their moment, but knowingit wouldn’t be for long. I’d let them have their moment while I was recovering and preparing to come back, but my mind was made up the first time I climbed on a horse. This is what I was made to do, and I’d be the best at it.
