“Your horse can sense it.We can all sense it.”K scowls at me.“Like we said, your head’s not in it and that’s not safe.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, sis.”
“Oh, you’ve done it now,” Joe laughs.“She’s gonna blow.”
“Damn right, I’m gonna blow!”I shout.“We may be related by marriage now, but I’m still the same Summer.Knock it off, or I’ll knock your block off!”
I squeeze my leather riding glove into a fist and show it to him.He rolls his eyes with as much melodrama as Jasmine.But he resumes his silence, which is more like him.
Special K is the baby in years but the biggest in size of all the MacLaine men.He’s as quiet as Declan is loud.What the man says in a year wouldn’t be enough to fill a comic book.
He shakes his head and looks at me with disapproval, then turns his horse in the direction of the grove of trees.Joe and I follow Special K down.The stallion balks at the entrance, so I back him away and trot him in circles just to keep his feet busy.Then I ride him to the entrance again.
He fights me, but I remind him that I’m the one who decides where we go and how we get there, that it’s not his decision to make.He rears up and tries to throw me off his back but fails.I circle him around again and give him a good pat and stroke, assuring him there’s no hard feelings.
I cluck my tongue and once again I urge him into the trees.This time, he goes.
I can see why Bob is spooked.It’s a little creepy in here.The sunlight is dappled and the bright glint from the snow cover is subdued.The place is dark with shadows, and I’m sure the air is thick with the panic from the cattle, who must have moved even farther into the interior in their confusion.
“Up ahead,” Joe whispers.He knows not to add to the animals’ terror with a loud voice.
I hear the sound of low bawling and hooves pawing the ground in frustration.I follow the noise to find the ten head clumped together, their eyes large and their breathing ragged.
I coo to them, and Special K does the same.It only takes ten minutes or so to move them out, and then after realizing they’re free of the evil grove, they run toward the rest of the herd to inhale the feed we laid down earlier.
“You’d think they’d know those trees by now,” Joe says.“It’s the same damn trees they’ve seen their whole lives.”
“That’s why we eat them, and not the other way around,” Special K says.
The stallion is giddy with relief that he’s free of the trees.He’s antsy and kicking a bit.
“All right, boys.Now, I’m ready to be warm.”I turn Bob and head toward the stables.I barely need to encourage him to take off at a full gallop.
We go fast, but it’s a controlled sprint.I know the stallion can go much faster, but I’m right back to the same lesson: I decide where we go and how we get there, not him.I can hear Special K trying to catch up to me.His majestic red roan, Diego Guapo, is a fabulous horse, but he’s no match for crazy Bob’s speed.And the roan is carrying a lot more weight.
We’re flying.
But Special K is gaining on me, damn him.“All right, show me what you’ve got,” I tell the stallion.I cut him loose, and it’s a wild ride.BeelzeBob is an athlete, a wild man.
He gallops tirelessly across miles of meadow.We’re friends now.I can sense that.He did what I wanted, and now I’m allowing him to show me what he can do.
This is what it’s all about.Sunshine.Speed.Leaving Special K behind with ice flying in his face.
I laugh.
Even over the thud of hoofs on snow, I think I hear the rumble of Declan’s motorcycle in the distance.I move my head in the direction of the main ranch road.
And just like that, it’s all over.
I go flying.The world blurs all around me.
I hear the sound of my body hit the icy ground.I can’t move.Trapped.Can’t get air.All I feel is crushing pressure and pain.
I’ve heard about what happens in these moments.Moving toward the light.Life events flashing.
Not for me, though.As I enter the split second between life and death, there’s no light, music, or parade.It’s just me and a quick flare of time, and then time is running out.
